CHAPTER XVIII.
The last ten years of the seventeenth century witnessed the consolidation of Dissent. Growing in confidence, Dissenters made bolder ventures. If some old congregations melted away in villages, where an ejected clergyman had worn out his days, or where the original supporters had died without bequeathing their opinions, together with their property, new congregations were formed in towns, where population gave scope for activity, and social freedom aided religious effort. Preachers with a roving commission settled down into local pastors, and a spirit of enterprise appeared in building places of worship. Nonconformists had for some time amidst hindrance and irritation been digging again the wells of their fathers, stopped by the Philistines; but the days of strife were so far over that they could say: “Now the Lord hath made room for us, and we shall be fruitful in the land;” yet such names as Rehoboth and Beersheba, so often ridiculed, were not used by them as by some of their descendants of later date.
NONCONFORMISTS.
As to the erection of religious edifices in London, it may be mentioned that about the era of the Revolution one was erected in Zoar Street, another in Gravel Lane, and a third in Hare Court.[485] The neglected Halls of City Companies had become available for Dissenting worship, and by economical alterations were transformed into houses of prayer. Turners’ Hall fell into the hands of the General Baptists about the year 1688; soon afterwards the Presbyterians erected “a large substantial brick building of a square form, with four deep galleries, and capable of seating a considerable congregation.”[486] Chapels, as we should call them—but the name was not used by the early Nonconformists—arose in Fair Street, Southwark; in Meeting-house Court, Blackfriars; in the Old Barbican, beyond Aldersgate; and over the King’s Weigh-House, Little Eastcheap. At the end of the century, the Presbyterians provided a moderate-sized wooden building with one gallery in King John’s Court, in the parish of St. Mary Magdalen, Bermondsey. About the same period, the Independents provided a place of worship in Rosemary Lane; and soon afterwards a large and substantial edifice was built by Presbyterians in the Old Jewry, Aldgate. It is remarkable that, after the Act of Toleration had been passed some years, liberty seemed of so precarious a nature, that to enjoy it concealment was necessary. Private houses, therefore, were in this case erected between the meeting-house and the street, that the former might be screened from public view.[487]
Nonconformists in the provinces imitated Nonconformists in London. Bath, then at the head of English watering-places, though still a city much occupied by clothiers, had a congregation which before had been wont to meet in “a shear-shop,” but now dared to come into open day, and to build in Frog Lane, afterwards New Bond Street. In the pleasant neighbourhood of Shepton Mallet, people who had assembled in the green woods now erected chapels in the town and adjacent villages. The Warminster people raised a meeting-house at the cost of £487 2s. 7d., the sum being obtained partly by subscription and partly by the sale of pews and seats, which became the property of the purchasers, and were accordingly sold and bequeathed.[488]
1688–1702.
Turning to midland counties, we find that at Nottingham—where Nonconformists had met in rock cellars such as honeycombed the sand formation, and are now formed into a cemetery—Presbyterians registered rooms in Bridlesmith Gate, and the Independents sought shelter in Postern Place. A few months after William’s accession, the former set to work upon a meeting-house in the High Pavement, and the latter cautiously attempted a smaller edifice at Castlegate. Little leaded windows admitted light through diamond panes; two pillars sprang from the floor to support the ceiling; stairs rising within led up to a small front gallery; a sounding-board covered the pulpit; and square pews, with other accommodation, provided for about 450 people.[489]
At Chester a new edifice, still in existence, carefully preserved, and not long ago tastefully restored, cost £532 16s. 1d. It was opened in August, 1700, when Matthew Henry preached from a text indicating an apologetic spirit for what was thought a daring enterprise: “The Lord God of Gods, the Lord God of Gods, He knoweth, and Israel He shall know, if it be in rebellion, or if it be in transgression against the Lord, that we have built us an altar.”
NONCONFORMISTS.
At Daventry, in Northamptonshire, Dissent made a humble advance, but under circumstances so interesting as to deserve notice. The origin of the church there forms one of the legends which in the following century became dear to many. When Charles II. was on the throne, it happened that a minister put up on his way to London at the sign of the Old Swan. He was taken ill and detained for more than a week, during which period the host and his family paid him kind attentions and completely won his heart. The traveller, restored to health, summoned into his room the kind-hearted people, thanked them for their great civility, and expressed his satisfaction at the order maintained in the house—an exceptional instance in days when hostelries were given over to unrestrained indulgence and boisterous merriment. He added: “Something leads me to suspect there is not the fear of God among you, and it grieves me to see such honest civility, economy, and decency, and yet religion wanting—the one thing needful.” He entered into conversation, and closed by telling them he had in his saddlebag a little book, which he begged them to accept, requesting that they would carefully read it. Having presented them with Baxter’s Poor Man’s Family Book, he went on his way without telling them who he was, nor did they ever ascertain his name, but they felt a suspicion the stranger was no other than Baxter himself. The result of reading this and other works by the same author was that the innkeeper and some of his family became Nonconformists. Weary of his mode of life and having acquired a competence, he retired to a house having a close behind it, at the extremity of which stood some humble outbuildings. These after the Revolution he converted into a legalized meeting-house. His neighbours came, a congregation was established, and a pastor chosen.
1688–1702.
Places of worship were put in trust. Presbyterians drew up their deeds in general terms, not enumerating articles of faith or referring to any ecclesiastical standard. In many cases, Congregational edifices were secured in a similar way, some schedule being annexed to the deed, declaring that the structure should be used by such Protestants in the neighbourhood as could not conform to the established religion. Whatever might be the policy ruling the arrangement, the selection of ministers, and the character of their preaching, in numerous cases still easily ascertained, betrayed no indifference as to what is esteemed orthodoxy of sentiment.[490]
Energies which resisted persecution did not expire in the midst of freedom, although Bishop Burnet predicted “that Nonconformity could not last long, and that after Baxter, Bates, and Howe were laid in their graves, it would die of itself.” The last of these, on hearing the prophecy, remarked to the Bishop, “that its existence depended much more on principles than persons”—an opinion verified by subsequent facts.
NONCONFORMISTS.
The Presbyterians formed the largest, and, in point of social position, the most respectable branch of English Nonconformists in the reign of William. What most indicated their persistency and hope is discovered in their numerous ordinations. Down to the time of the Revolution they had been privately conducted. Just as the Prince of Orange was being driven back to his native shores by untoward storms, a young man named Joseph Hussey, who had been preaching for eight years, sought the rite from the hands of Dr. Annesley and other Presbyterians. Not in the meeting-house of Little St. Helen’s did the parties dare to assemble, but at the Doctor’s “private dwelling in Spitalfields, in an upper chamber.” There, on the 24th of October, 1688, the candidate, as he himself reports, was examined “in the parts of learning by the Elder, who took the chair and spoke in Latin.” The next day he defended a thesis against the Papacy. Upon the 26th he was ordained. The proceedings were begun and finished within the same chamber, in a neighbourhood then losing the last vestiges of rural life under the encroachments of weavers, driven from France by the revocation of the Edict of Nantes.[491] As another instance of the privacy of Nonconformist services, I would mention that the Lord’s Supper was not publicly celebrated in the new chapel in Leeds until the month of October, 1692.[492]
1688–1702.
Ordinations emerged from private habitations when, in September, 1689, five ministers were ordained by Oliver Heywood and four of his brethren, after a notice had been given that the service would be held in the meeting-house at Alverthorpe, “to which whoever had a desire might repair.” One of the candidates stood behind a chair, and poured out a Latin discourse, which seemed to be extempore, but which Heywood believed to be memoriter, upon the validity of Presbyterian orders. This person behaved in an extraordinary manner the next day, for he was seen “walking in a lane, reading a book,” whilst the ordaining ministers were waiting for his appearance. After he had arrived, and had given in his confession, “running through the whole body of Divinity, according to Mr. Baxter’s Methodus Theologiæ, we proceeded,” says Heywood, “to setting the candidates apart. I came down, and there being a void space made, we made them kneel down, one by one, while we all prayed over them.” This was succeeded by the imposition of hands, the delivery of a Bible, the grasp of fellowship, a charge to the ordained, and a sermon to the congregation. The ministers assembled at eight o’clock, waited till ten for the eccentric youth, and did not terminate the service before five in the afternoon, when a dinner followed, at the charge of the ordained.
Another service occurred in 1690, with accompaniments still more unseemly, the misbehaviour now being on the part of ordainers. The service took place at Rathmel in Yorkshire. Oliver Heywood and other Presbyterians came to share in the solemnity with two Independent ministers. Strange as it appears, those who thus met had not agreed what should be done; and one of the Independents, as Heywood reports, urged objections which the Presbyterians undertook to answer. He objected, amongst other things, that messengers from neighbouring churches were not present, and that the minister in this case would not be, as he ought, ordained in the midst of the congregation he intended to serve. Both the Independents were desired to pray, but they refused, “and sat by the whole day taking no part in the proceedings.” The service, however, was decorously enough conducted by the Presbyterians, who, touching the heads of the candidates, offered prayer, and after presenting a Bible, gave the right hand of fellowship. Heywood preached to the candidates and to the people, and the whole ended with singing and prayer. If anybody had wished to prejudice orderly people against Nonconformity, he could not have followed a more effectual method than we find pursued by Independents on this occasion.
NONCONFORMISTS.
A few Presbyterians attempted to revive synodical action, and a meeting with that view at Newbury created much stir—displeasing Nonconformists, who regarded it as injudicious, and provoking Churchmen, who urged it was unjust. Convocation remained in shackles; why, then, should Presbyterian Synods be free?[493] This question was asked, in forgetfulness of the obvious difference relative to the state of voluntary churches on the one hand, and endowed churches on the other.
1688–1702.
As ministers could not continue by reason of death, it became necessary to reinforce the ranks. One young student of honourable descent made his appearance in public life at this juncture. Edmund Calamy—grandson of the Divine of the same name, who had been Incumbent of Aldermanbury—after studying in Holland, where he had accumulated stores of Dutch theology, returned to his native land, and went down to Oxford, where he devoted himself to the study of the question, whether he should enter the Church, or continue his lot with Dissenters? Certainly if anybody ever gave himself to the investigation of the subject, young Edmund did—for, first, he studied the Bible; then he read several of the Fathers, with all sorts of critical helps; then he perused Pearson, on the Ignatian Epistles, as well as Monsieur Daillé and Larroque on the other side; then he betook himself to the examination of Chillingworth’s Religion of Protestants, which he carefully epitomized; then he attacked Hooker’s Ecclesiastical Polity, and went through it book by book, setting down the arguments with such remarks as they suggested; then he turned to Jeremy Taylor’s Ductor Dubitantium, dealing with this as he had done with the rest; and, lastly, with care he read over the Articles, Liturgy, Homilies, and Canons of the Church of England.[494] Such an amount of reading for the settlement of opinion was very well for a youth of twenty-one, and, making allowance for a bias derived from family traditions and from the ugly memories of 1662, we must credit him with candour in looking at the subject on all sides. According to his own account, his reading was chiefly in favour of Episcopacy; yet his conclusion was decidedly in favour of Nonconformity. The Nonconformity which he adopted, however, was moderate; it shrunk neither from Episcopal orders, Liturgical worship, nor the Establishment principle, but from certain things enforced by the Church of England. He tells us himself that he would have received ordination at the hands of a Bishop, “could he have found anyone that would not have demanded a subscription and engagement to conformity, and a subjection to the present ecclesiastical government.”[495]
NONCONFORMISTS.
1688–1702.
It is remarkable to find how much this young man engaged in preaching when he had made up his mind upon ecclesiastical points. He occupied pulpits wherever they were open. He seems to have been welcomed everywhere—now officiating at the opening of a meeting-house, and once at least preaching in a parish church.[496] He had conflicting invitations. He describes a visit to Andover, where the meeting-house was in a back yard, through which he had to pass, the people making a lane for him and presenting their acknowledgments for his good sermon; and how he found the parlour full of men, women, and children—amongst them was a grave old woman with a high-crowned hat, who thanked him civilly for his pains, telling him she thought a special Providence had sent such a shepherd to such neglected sheep. The conversation, however, as it went on proved less and less satisfactory, since it turned out that these Andover folks were divided into parties, the old lady’s Calvinistic sentiments being loftier even than her steeple headgear.[497] Calamy travelled down to Bristol, the great Nonconformist stronghold in the west, to preach to a congregation of 1,500 people, and was met at Bath by a couple of gentlemen, “with a man and horse,” to conduct him to his destination. Upon the road others came to welcome the stranger, like the brethren who met Paul at Appii-Forum, and brought him on his way “in a manner very respectful.” Many of the congregation were wealthy, and they offered him £100 a year and a house to live in, as assistant to their infirm pastor. But, upon returning to London, Calamy decided on accepting an invitation to assist Mr. Sylvester upon an allowance of £40 per annum.[498] He had there the counterbalancing advantage of mixing in the best Nonconformist society. He spent many an evening at the house of Dr. Upton, in Warwick-court, where he met his colleague and Mr. Lorimer, Mr. John Shower, Mr. Nathaniel Taylor, Mr. Thomas Kentish, Mr. Nathaniel Oldfield—names now little known, but celebrities in their own day. Other ministerial meetings were kept up in Dr. Annesley’s vestry, Little St. Helen’s, where once a month Latin disputations took place. Whilst thus engaged, Calamy remained unordained. Desirous of this rite, he successively requested Howe and Bates to take part in it. But no public ordination had yet been held within the city precints. Howe at first seemed pleased with the proposal, but afterwards demurred, saying he must wait upon Lord Somers, and inquire whether such a proceeding would not be taken ill at Court. Bates decidedly declined, and continued to do so for reasons he would not communicate. Matthew Mead was indirectly asked, but begged to be excused, because, as an Independent, he feared he might offend some of his brethren by joining in a Presbyterian ordination. The whole of the transaction is enveloped in mystery; perhaps Bates had not given up all hopes of a comprehension, and thought a public ordination might bar the way to it; perhaps he had given some pledge not to engage in any such service; perhaps Howe was not quite free from similar determents, and both might for personal reasons be unwilling to do what they had no objection should be done by others. My own impression is that both, especially Howe, clung with tenacity to the idea of one united church in England, and though they had little hope of seeing the idea turned into fact, they shrunk from a service like public ordination as perpetuating a separation they would fain have seen come to an end.
NONCONFORMISTS.
At length Calamy and six others were publicly set apart to the ministry, at Dr. Annesley’s meeting-house, by the Doctor himself, Vincent Alsop, of Princes Street, Westminster, Daniel Williams, pastor at Hand Alley, Bishopsgate Street, Richard Stretton, of Haberdashers’ Hall, Matthew Sylvester, of Carter Lane, and Thomas Kentish of the Weigh-House. Annesley began with prayer; Alsop preached; Williams, after another prayer, delivered a second sermon; then he read the testimonials in favour of the candidates; next each of them delivered a profession of faith; and then, one after another, different ministers prayed; Sylvester followed with a charge, and concluded with a psalm and a prayer.[499] The service lasted from before ten o’clock until past six.
As vacancies in Nonconformist pastorates occurred, successors had to be appointed; and it is amusing to meet in the Diaries of the day, cross lights thrown upon the choice of ministers. The famous antiquarian Thoresby was in 1693 a leading member of the old Dissenting Church at Leeds. When deprived of its excellent instructor, Mr. Sharp, “we had several meetings to consult in order to the choice of a successor. I had the usual hap of moderators, to displease both the extremes. In the interim I wrote to several ministers to supply his place. We rode to Ovenden, and made our first application to Mr. Priestly, a person of moderate principles, learned, ingenious, and pious; but the people about Halifax and Horton could not be prevailed upon to resign their interest in him, without which he was not willing to desert them. I afterwards rode with some of the people to Pontefract, to solicit Mr. Manlove, who was at first very compliant, yet after relapsed, but in the conclusion accepted the call and removed to Leeds.”[500]
1688–1702.
Glimpses are caught of meeting-house politics. Thoresby received from his cousin a discouraging account of Mr. Manlove; but when this candidate visited the people, Thoresby found an unanimous desire for the man’s coming, testified by proffered subscriptions.[501] After this person’s settlement at Leeds, the love of Thoresby towards him and the old Dissent began to cool. His archæological pursuits brought him into the society of ecclesiastical dignitaries, and he frequently attended the parish church. By degrees his sympathy with Episcopalians deepened; he received the sacrament with them—a proceeding which offended old friends, and produced alienation. Attracted on the one side and repelled on the other, after hanging for awhile in suspense between the opposite communities, he found himself drawn into the bosom of the Establishment. The Corporation elected him one of their fraternity, and not long afterwards we find him saying: “I received a most comfortable letter from my Lord Archbishop of York, answering many objections against my Conformity, and gave me great satisfaction.”[502]
NONCONFORMISTS.
Fallings-off from Dissent happened in one place, accessions occurred in another. A clergyman, named Michael Harrison, who had usually preached at the church in Caversfield, gathered a congregation of Dissenters at Potterspury, near Stony Stratford, and died a Nonconformist minister at St. Ives.[503] Amidst the reproaches of High Churchmen at the growth of Dissent, from Low Churchmen there were received expressions of goodwill. Hough, Vicar of Halifax, stepped into Heywood’s new place of worship at Northowram, and putting off his hat, exclaimed: “The good Lord bless the Word preached in this place!”[504]
The education of boys, and the theological training of those designed for the ministry, were matters of great anxiety during the reigns of Charles II. and James II., and afterwards received increasing attention.
Seminaries for Dissenters did not in the seventeenth century attain the dignified title of colleges. They were schools where youths were educated for secular vocations, and only by degrees did they become the resort of candidates for the ministry. There was no trust-deed, no constituency, no council, but the entire management rested with the person responsible for opening the institution. In the romantic district of Craven, Richard Frankland, a learned ejected minister, received pupils, but the Five-Mile Act drove him to Attercliffe. First and last he educated three hundred youths for the professions of law and of medicine, and for the work of the Christian ministry.
1688–1702.
Archbishop Sharpe was requested by some of the Clergy to prevent Frankland from proceeding in his labours. He consulted Tillotson as to the best method of procedure, and received from him this reply: “His instructing young men in so public a manner in University learning is contrary to his oath to do, if he hath taken a degree in either of our Universities, and I doubt, contrary to the Bishop’s oath to grant him a licence for doing it; so that your Grace does not, in this matter, consider him at all as a Dissenter. This I only offer to your Grace as what seems to me the fairest and softest way of ridding your hands of this business.” To explain this advice, it is proper to remark, that in the Middle Ages, factions arose at Oxford and Cambridge, and hosts of students, under some favourite professors, would march off to Northampton or Stamford to set up rival schools and grant degrees. Hence an oath came to be required of the University graduates, that in no other places than in the favoured retreats on the Isis and the Cam would they ever establish a scholastic lecture. It was in harmony with Tillotson’s characteristic wariness to give such counsel, but it is hardly worthy of his reputation for gentleness and Catholicity to put the disconcerted Prelate up to the trick of masking the batteries of intolerance under the specious cover of obsolete precedents.
It should be added, that Archbishop Sharpe behaved very courteously to Frankland throughout this unpleasant business;[505] and also that other Dissenting tutors in different ways were hindered by the opposition of Churchmen.
NONCONFORMISTS.
Two other academies sprung out of Richard Frankland’s—one at Attercliffe under the superintendence of Timothy Jollie, another at Manchester under the care of John Chorlton. In the old town of Shrewsbury, Francis Tallents established a seminary about the time of the Revolution. At Taunton, Matthew Warren educated several young gentlemen for the pastorate and for secular occupations. So did Samuel Birch at an earlier period in Shilton. Joshua Oldfield also kept a school at Coventry. John Woodhouse, of Sheriff Hales, Shropshire; George Burden, of Somersetshire; Edmund Thorpe, of Sussex; Joseph Bennet, of the same county; and Josiah Bassett, of Warwickshire, may be added to the list of Nonconformist schoolmasters at different dates, between the ejectment and the end of the century.
The Metropolis drew towards it several learned men in this capacity, and Newington Green became “the favourite seat of the Dissenting Muses.” There the learned Theophilus Gale, and the less known but erudite and able Charles Morton, educated a number of young men. Edward Veal had a school at Stepney, and Samuel Wesley, after having been a pupil of Veal’s, became a student under Morton. Violent opposition to the Established Church is said to have been fostered under Veal’s roof, and this young man, who possessed a lively poetical talent, answered invectives against Dissent by invectives against the Church, until, from some cause which has been differently explained, he abandoned Nonconformity, and one August morning in 1683, with forty-five shillings in his pocket, walked all the way to Oxford, and entered himself as a servitor of Exeter College. Samuel Wesley, in a letter published in the year 1703, reflected upon the Dissenting academies, and afterwards defended what he said in a reply to Mr. Palmer. Much bitterness appeared in Wesley’s pamphlet, and he was accused of ingratitude for assailing institutions, to one of which he had been indebted for a gratuitous education. Palmer vindicated the academies from the charge brought against them; but, by a curious coincidence, he like Wesley gave up all connection with Dissent, and obtained the living of Maldon, in Essex.
1688–1702.
Thomas Doolittle, of Pembroke Hall, Cambridge, and Thomas Vincent, of Christ Church, Oxford, united in conducting, until within a short time before his death in 1708, an academy at Islington. Thither Philip Henry sent his son Matthew, and immediately after his arrival the young man wrote to his sisters, informing them that in his tutor’s meeting-house “there are several galleries. It is all pewed, and a brave pulpit a great height above the people,” adding, in the same letter: “I perceive that Mr. Doolittle is very studious and diligent, and that Mrs. Doolittle and her daughter are very fine and gallant.” During Matthew Henry’s stay at Islington he pursued a course of reading which bore upon the Christian ministry, but when he left that place he studied law for a time at Gray’s Inn, although it does not appear that he ever thought of entering the legal profession. The fact is, that the elder educated Nonconformists of that day valued all kinds of learning, and were anxious that their children, especially if designed for the ministry, should traverse the widest curriculum of study. Further, it may be mentioned that Ralph Button, fellow and tutor of Merton, Oxford, who died in 1680, conducted another academy at Islington.
Dissenting academies could not resemble national Universities. A variety of professors, extensive libraries, aristocratic society were beyond their reach, and polite literature and the graces of composition were but little cultivated. Too much time was given to the study of dead languages—a mistake, indeed, shared by the Universities. A keen observer, Daniel De Foe, noticed this defect, and pointed out how absurd it was, that all the time should be spent on the languages which learning was to be fetched from, and none on the language it was to be delivered in. To this error he attributed the fact that many learned, and otherwise excellent, ministers preached away their congregations, “while a jingling, noisy boy, that had a good stock in his face, and a dysentery of the tongue, though he had little or nothing in his head, should run away with the whole town.”[506]
NONCONFORMISTS.
Youths of all sorts were admitted into these academies, as into modern boarding-schools; hence some pupils might be of doubtful character. Also prejudices against the Church of England would naturally arise. Amongst the elder pupils the controversies of other days would be revived, and enthusiastic spirits would tilt a lance on the side of “the good old cause.” Charles I. and Charles II. would be no favourites; James II.’s Popery would be denounced; Cromwell would be excused and praised; and William III. lauded to the skies. In the common room where students unbent, there might be fun and laughter; in the private study there might be other volumes than classical and theological text-books; levity and idleness probably existed in these gatherings of great boys and young men; and damaging charges, no doubt, could be substantiated against some of them; but the character of these maligned institutions must, after all, be judged by their courses of study, by the character of their professors, and by their educational results. These tests being applied, lead to a favourable conclusion. The studies combined logic, metaphysics, and ethics, with readings in Colbert, Le Clerc, Suarez, More, Cicero, and Epictetus; natural and political philosophy, with the use of Aristotle, Descartes, and Vossius; and the perusal of Latin and Greek historians and poets. Candidates for the pastoral office read Divinity, and studied the Greek Testament with such critical helps as were afforded in those times. We are assured that in lectures the Church of England was treated with respect, the Predestinarian controversy was discussed with moderation, and Monarchical maxims of government were upheld.[507]
1688–1702.
What the most distinguished teachers were, and what many of the pupils became, may be seen in preceding pages.
I must not conclude this chapter without stating that as these academies were interrupted by intolerant laws, common schools also were subject to the same inconvenience. Cunning methods were sometimes adopted by schoolmasters, or were alleged to be so, with the view of overcoming clerical opposition,[508] and occasion was given for the display of an unseemly spirit even by Bishops otherwise exemplary; bad mutual relations consequently in many quarters existed between Churchmen and Nonconformists.