"I, or rather the Lord, require of you that you walk in all peaceableness and gentleness, inoffensiveness, truth, and love towards them, as becomes the servants and Churches of Christ—knowing well that Jesus Christ, of whose diocese both they and you are, expects it; who, when He comes to gather His people and to make Himself 'a name and praise amongst all the people of the earth,' He 'will save her that halteth, and gather her that was driven out, and will get them praise and fame in every land where they have been put to shame.' And such 'lame ones' and 'driven-out ones' were not the Independents only, and Presbyterians, a few years since, by the Popish and prelatical party in these nations; but such are and have been the Protestants in all lands, persecuted and faring alike with you, in all the reformed Churches. And therefore, knowing your charity to be as large as all the flock of Christ who are of the same hope and faith of the Gospel with you, I thought fit to commend these few words to you, being well assured it is written in your heart, so to do with this, that I shall stand by you in the maintaining of all your just privileges to the uttermost."[133] The Christian spirit which breathes through this epistle commands our sympathy and admiration. Every line testifies to that gentle love for all the true disciples of Jesus Christ—which grew like a tender flower, which gushed like a limpid stream, for the refreshment of his friends, out of the depths of a strong and rugged nature such as made Cromwell a terror to his enemies.
The other noticeable letter despatched from his Highness's Cabinet about the same time, was intended for no other hands than those of the renowned Cardinal Mazarin, the prime minister of France—in answer to his Eminence's request for the toleration of Catholics in England.
1656, December.
"The obligations, and many instances of affection," says Cromwell, "which I have received from your Eminency, do engage me to make returns suitable to your merits. But although I have this set home upon my spirit, I may not (shall I tell you I cannot?) at this juncture of time, and as the face of my affairs now stands, answer to your call for toleration (of Catholics here). I say I cannot, as to a public declaration of my sense in that point; although I believe that under my Government your Eminency, in the behalf of Catholics, has less reason for complaint as to rigour upon men's consciences than under the Parliament. For I have of some, and those very many, had compassion, making a difference. Truly I have (and I may speak it with cheerfulness in the presence of God, who is a witness within me to the truth of what I affirm) made a difference; and, as Jude speaks, 'plucked many out of the fire'—the raging fire of persecution, which did tyrannize over their consciences, and encroached by an arbitrariness of power upon their estates. And herein it is my purpose, as soon as I can remove impediments, and some weights that press me down, to make a farther progress, and discharge my promise to your Eminency in relation to that."[134] Cromwell did what many rulers do. Without having an intolerant law repealed, he relaxed its execution. The time was not ripe for perfect religious liberty. Cromwell understood its broad principles better than Mazarin; but it was not given to the Protector, as it has been to his posterity, to see the entire breadth of their practical application. The letter shews some respect for the consciences of Catholics; but it indicates, in the way of conceding liberty to that class of religionists, difficulties over which at the time the writer had no control. Evidently he was prepared to advance rather than recede in his liberal treatment of a class of persons who, by the common consent of almost all Protestants, were excluded from the enjoyment of the political privileges of citizenship.
Extempore Preaching.
In those days of tardy intercourse with the Continent, this last letter had scarcely reached its destination when the gossips of London were all astir with reports relative to Cromwell's escape from a great personal danger. A story gained circulation, to the effect, that a hole had been cut in the backdoor of Whitehall chapel, and that a basket of pitch, tar, and gunpowder had been placed there, with a lighted match hung over it, in order to blow up both the palace and the Protector. A resolution of the Parliament to keep a day of thanksgiving followed the discovery of this design—known in history as Sindercombe's plot—whereupon a curious debate ensued upon the question, as to who should preach the sermon for improving the event. Alderman Foot, member for the city of London, proposed that Dr. Reynolds should perform the office; when exceptions were taken to the "low voice" of that eminent Presbyterian Divine. The same complaint was urged with regard to Mr. Caryl, the Independent. "It is strange we should not hear as well now as we did fourteen years ago," observed Lord Strickland—one of his Highness's Council, and member for Newcastle-upon-Tyne—to which Mr. Robinson, who represented Yorkshire, added the remark—"Ministers tell us our faults. It is fit we should tell them theirs. Their reading of sermons makes their voice lower. I doubt we are going to the episcopal way of reading prayers, too." Another member moved that Mr. Matthew Mead, minister of Stepney, might be selected as one of the preachers: and he expressed an earnest hope that charity might be more manifest on the occasion than it had been when a fast was last observed by the Houses, for then "nothing was given at the door to the poor." From observations advanced in the course of this amusing debate, it appears that reading discourses had begun to be somewhat fashionable amongst the English pulpit orators of the Puritan period; it was, however, otherwise in Scotland, memoriter delivery being the practice there; and hence, Lord Cochrane of Dundonald, who sat for Aire and Renfrew, suggested his fellow-countryman, Mr. Galaspy, of the Scotch kirk, as a minister peculiarly fitted to edify the House by his ministrations, because he was not accustomed to read his discourses. The honourable member raised a laugh by saying "something of an evil man who read his sermons."[135]
1657, March.
The New Constitution.
In the month of March, there were debates in the House respecting the new Magna Charta of England, contained in the document first called, "The humble Address and Remonstrance of the Knights, Citizens, and Burgesses now assembled in Parliament;" but afterwards still more modestly entitled, "The humble Petition and Advice."[136] A blank had been left for the name of the chief magistrate. Was it to be the title of King or Protector? Major-General Ludlow called this new programme of the Commonwealth a shoe fitted to the foot of a monarch; yet it might be worn, he said, and walked in, by one bearing a less pretentious appellation. For weeks there were, on this weighty question, discussions in St. Stephen's, with conferences and speeches at Whitehall, ending, as every one knows, in Cromwell's refusal of the English Crown.[137] That unique episode in our national history does not come within the scope of our narrative, but the Petition and Advice, in which the proposal of kingship appeared, requires consideration under its ecclesiastical and religious aspects. The framers of the new Charter had their eye upon the Instrument of December, 1653. Like the Constitution it was to supersede, it disqualified Papists for political rule, and for all exercise of the franchise. Members of Parliament and of the Council of State were still required to be men of integrity, fearing God. All acts and orders for the abolition of Bishops, Deans, and Chapters, and for the sale of cathedral property, were distinctly confirmed in both schemes of government; and, as a fundamental principle in each, it was laid down that the Christian religion, as contained in the Scriptures, should be held forth as the public profession of the country. But, on comparing the long Article, number xi., in the Humble Petition, with the corresponding Articles of 1653, numbered xxxv., xxxvi., and xxxvii.,[138] we discover some not altogether unimportant differences. The Article xxxv. of the first Instrument speaks of a contemplated provision for ministerial maintenance, less subject to scruple and contention, and more certain than the present—meaning tithes. Not a word appears on this subject in No. xi. of the Petition. A Confession of Faith to be agreed upon by his Highness and the Parliament is desired in the Petition and Advice, but nothing of the kind had been mentioned in the Articles. Moreover, in the Petition and Advice it is distinctly said:—"That none may be suffered or permitted by opprobrious words, or writing maliciously or contemptuously to revile or reproach the Confession of Faith to be agreed upon as aforesaid"—a provision to which nothing similar can be found in the Articles. Also, in the earlier case, liberty was conceded to all persons who professed faith in God by Jesus Christ, so that they did not abuse their freedom to the injury of others; but in the later scheme of government, an enumeration is attempted of primary articles of belief necessary to be held as a condition of toleration. Freedom is limited to those who "profess faith in God the Father, and in Jesus Christ, His eternal Son, the true God, and in the Holy Spirit, God, co-equal with the Father and the Son, one God blessed for ever; and do acknowledge the holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testament to be the revealed will and word of God; and shall in other things differ in doctrine, worship, or discipline from the public profession held forth." The determination to draw a broad and distinct line between clergy and laity—which was expressed in the resolutions of the first Protectorate Parliament, when the Articles of 1653 came under discussion—is decidedly taken up by this second Parliament, and incorporated in their Advice.
1657, May.
Cromwell's Speech.