1640, November.
Members of the Long Parliament.
Anecdotes are related serving to shew that even after the opening of the Long Parliament, the reformers had not definitely made up their minds as to what should be done. One "fine evening," Nathaniel Fiennes, after dining at Pym's lodgings with Mr. Hyde, afterwards Lord Clarendon, rode out with him on horseback "in the fields between Westminster and Chelsea." Hyde, in the course of conversation, asked Fiennes, "what government do you mean to introduce if the existing constitution of the Church were altered?" To this he replied "there will be time enough to think of that;" but he "assured him, and wished him to remember what he said, that if the King resolved to defend the bishops, it would cost the kingdom much blood, and would be the occasion of as sharp a war as had ever been in England; for that there was so great a number of good men who resolved to lose their lives before they would ever submit to that government."[85] These words were uttered in the summer of 1641, when the Long Parliament had been sitting seven or eight months. At an earlier period, Sir Philip Warwick—the Court gentleman who quizzed Cromwell's clothes—met the rough-looking man in the lobby of the House, and wished to know what the real objects of his party were. "I can tell you," he bluntly replied, "what I would not have, if I cannot what I would." We are convinced that Cromwell spoke the truth in relation to his views of both the political and ecclesiastical changes on the brink of which the nation stood. Changes hovered not in the distance but at hand, and amongst them some which must modify the ecclesiastical establishment; but how far, looking at the different opinions of the country, reform ought to be carried, did not at once appear. Some few had republican theories—for example, Vane and Marten—and possibly at an early period they contemplated the overthrow of the monarchy, and with it the Episcopal Church. The latter of these gentlemen blurted out as much, with regard to monarchy, only two days after Fiennes' talk with Hyde, intimating his design to employ certain persons up to a certain point, and then to use them "as they had used others." But there is no solid ground for believing that the greater number of the reformers had at first any further object than that of effectually curbing kingly prerogative in the state, and bringing down the pomp and pride of episcopacy in the Church. The course which they actually pursued shaped itself according to the discipline of circumstances. Their views widened as they went along. As is often the case in times of change, these reformers in the end were forced to seek more than they originally imagined. First denied the little which might have contented them, they felt prompted to a further struggle, and naturally claimed more and more: it was but the story of the Sybil, with her books, repeated once again. Easy is it to point out apparent inconsistencies in the career of men so influenced, and plausible too are the charges against them of concealment, treachery, and breach of faith; but an impartial consideration of facts, and honest views of human nature, will lead to conclusions at once more favourable and more just. The truth is, that the members of the Long Parliament were not theorists intent on working out some perfect ideal, but practical men who looked at things as they were, and with upright intentions endeavoured to mend them as best they could. They aimed at reforming institutions much in the same plodding way as that in which their fathers had founded and reared those institutions. The opening of the States General in France presents in this respect a contrast to the opening of the Long Parliament in England; the brilliant theoristic Frank cannot be confounded with the sober, practical Saxon. The defiance or treachery of opponents filled our religious patriots of the seventeenth century with alarm, drove them to take up a higher position than they at first assumed, and to encamp themselves behind more formidable entrenchments than it then entered into their minds to raise.
Another class in the House of Commons requires attention. Many were favourably disposed to the Church of England, advocating a moderate episcopacy and approving the use of the Common Prayer, with a few alterations. They had no liking for Presbyterian schemes of government, much less for a congregational polity. Their sympathies went with the Church of their fathers, the Church of the Reformation, the Church which was built over the ashes of Ridley, Latimer, and Cranmer. They cannot be called Anglican Catholics; but they were to the heart English Churchmen. Despising the mummeries of Laud, and not liking the instructions of his school, then so common in parish churches—these persons loved the old Gothic and ivy-mantled edifices where they had been baptized and married, and by whose altars their parents slept under quaint old monuments, which touched their hearts whenever they worshipped within the walls. They wished to see the Church of England reformed, not overturned.
Members of the Long Parliament.
1640, November.
Lucius Carey, Viscount Falkland, member for Newport, stood among the chief of this description. His early fate, as well as his high esteem for John Hampden, must ever link their names in affecting companionship. For a time they fought a common battle. What Hampden said at the commencement of the strife about bishops and Anglican High Churchism we do not know; but we know what Falkland said, and shall have occasion to record some of his words, which for fiery sharpness against prelatical assumptions were not surpassed by the speeches of any Puritan. Attempts had been made to bring him over to Popery, which had led to his reading the Fathers and pursuing the controversy for himself.[86] Thus skilled in the knowledge of the whole question, the result of his studies was not only an aversion to the finished system of Popery, but a healthful horror of all those insinuating principles and practices which lead to it. A sounder Protestant did not tread the floor of the House than Viscount Falkland. Virtuous and brave, with honour unimpeachable, and with patriotism unsuspected, he wins our heart, even though we lament the course he ultimately pursued. His full-length character, drawn by Clarendon, true and faithful no doubt, though the hand of friendship laid on the colours, inspires the reader with admiration and love: but we are somewhat startled at what the historian says of the physique of his honoured friend: his stature low, his motion not graceful, his aspect far from inviting, with a voice so untuned that none could expect music from that tongue, he was so uncomely that "no man was less beholden to nature for its recommendation into the world." The portrait of Falkland, by Vandyke, hardly confirms this unfavourable description of his appearance by Clarendon, though even there, in spite of cavalier silk and slashed doublet, ample collar tassel-tyed, and flowing locks, the face of the young nobleman wears a somewhat rustic simplicity, albeit, tinged with an expression of sincere good-nature.
Members of the Long Parliament.
A chief place amongst Church reformers during the first few months of the Long Parliament must be assigned to Sir Edward Dering. He represented the Kentish yeomen, the majority of whom had been driven into Puritanism by the Anglo-Catholic zeal of Laud; and he expressed the predominant feeling of the county, when he quaintly said, "he hoped Laud would have more grace, or no grace at all." Chairman of a sub-committee for religion, and a frequent and ardent speaker, he gathered round him the sympathies of the party opposed to the government, and was hailed by the citizens of London with "God bless your worship!" while the people—who in those days gathered about the doors of the House of Commons, as crowds do still, to cheer their favourite members—pointed to him as the man of the day, exclaiming, "There goes Sir Edward Dering!" This he tells us himself—an indication of his egotism. Vanity, no doubt, and weakness mixed themselves with his impetuous but persistent pursuit of an object, of which many laughable examples are furnished in the story of his life.[87] Impetuous and rash, flexible to flattery, neither firm nor courageous under opposition, he was, nevertheless, amiable, well-meaning, patriotic, gentlemanly, and even chivalrous. He could reason with force, and declaim with eloquence, being no less fervent in his religious affections than in his political sentiments. The comely person of the Kentish baronet aided his popularity, and so did his genial manners, in spite of his hasty temper.[88]
Posthumous fame is often not at all in proportion to contemporary influence. Sir Edward Dering is now by many forgotten, and, even John Pym, perhaps, does not hold the place in history which he did in life; yet, in the early days of the Long Parliament, these persons were more conspicuous in debate, and had more weight with the populace than John Hampden or Oliver Cromwell.