Other Bishops.
Ralph Brownrigg, of Exeter—of whom, when made a Bishop, Fuller observes he was "defied by some who almost deified him before, in whose eyes he seemed the blacker for wearing white sleeves"—after losing his bishopric found shelter at Sonning, a pleasant little village on the banks of the Thames, not far from the town of Reading. There, in the hospitable mansion of Thomas Rich, he enjoyed respectful entertainment during the Protectorate; and about a year before his death received the appointment of preacher at the Temple. "The deserved opinion of his goodness," we are informed by Fuller, "had peaceable possession in the hearts of the Presbyterian party; and I observed at his funeral that the prime persons of all persuasions were present, whose judgments going several ways met all in a general grief for his decease. He was buried on the cost of both Temples, to his great but their greater honour."[321]
Thomas Winniffe,[322] who was a Bishop with Puritan predilections, and who was raised to the see of Lincoln at the beginning of the Church troubles—by way of conciliation, when it was too late—found little besides sorrow in the possession of his mitre. Driven from his house at Westminster he went to live at Lambourne, in Essex, "having formerly been the painful minister thereof;" and there he died in the year 1654, leaving a goodly reputation for piety and learning.
John Owen and Roger Manwaring, two Welsh bishops, the first of St. Asaph, the second of St. David's—like the rest of those just enumerated—died before the Restoration, Owen, in the year 1651, Manwaring, at Carmarthen, in 1653.[323]
The fortunes of the Bishops who survived the return of Charles the Second, and the re-establishment of Prelacy, demand a few notices. In the sequestered village of Langley, in the County of Bucks, King, Bishop of Chichester, spent some years at the seat of his brother-in-law, Sir Richard Hobart. Wren, "that bird of ill omen," driven from his nest at Ely, had to undergo some severe retaliation for past offences; and became so reduced in circumstances, that when his son took a degree at the University of Oxford in the year 1660, the father had not wherewith to pay the fees. Juxon, the amiable Metropolitan who attended Charles on the scaffold, retained the use of Fulham Palace up to the year 1647—"reserved, like Ulysses by the Cyclops, for the last morsel" and, after the Whitehall tragedy, he retired to his manor of Little Compton, in Gloucestershire, where he remained until the Restoration. Skinner, Bishop of Oxford, during the whole period of the Commonwealth enjoyed the Rectory of Launton, where he read prayers and conferred orders. Warner, Bishop of Rochester, a man of wealth—and, after compounding for his estates, possessing a handsome residue—largely helped his suffering brethren, at the expense of some self-denial, which led him to say—for he was a man of humour with a little self-complacency—"that he did eat the crag ends of the neck of mutton himself, that he might leave the poor the shoulder." Brian Duppa, an ecclesiastic of moderate opinions, and a graceful courtier, who succeeded Davenant at Salisbury, spent some time at Richmond in solitude and devotion; but he availed himself of opportunities to preserve and revive the Episcopal Church. From one of his letters we learn that in the year 1653 meetings were being held to consult "ne ecclesia aliquid detrementi caperet, especially in such a sad juncture of time, when the well-being of it could hardly fall into consideration, and the great care was, that though stripped of all her outward helps, yet there might be a being left her."[324] Piers, Bishop of Wells, whose Episcopal administration had irritated the Puritans, lived at Cuddesdon, upon a considerable estate of his own, which the party in power "had been so merciful as to leave him."
Bramhall.
There was at that time another Prelate who by his ability, devotion, and attainments, adorned the Irish bench. Bramhall, Bishop of Londonderry, fled to the Continent after the ruin of the Royal cause, and then having returned to Ireland, and undergone great dangers and difficulties, he fled again and had a narrow escape. "This escape of his is accounted very wonderful, for 'the little bark he was in was closely hunted by two of the Parliament frigates, many of which were on that coast; and when they were come so near that all hopes of being saved were taken away, ... on a sudden the wind slackened into a perfect calm, and, as it were, flew into the sails of the little vessel, and carried her away in view.'" "On his arrival in foreign parts, Providence supplied him with a considerable sum of money, of which he greatly stood in need; for having had seven hundred pounds long due to him, for salmon caught in the river Bann, and sent abroad, which debt he looked upon as lost, he was now so fortunate as to recover it; which proved a seasonable relief both to him and to many Royalists that partook of his generosity. During this second time of his being abroad, 'he had many disputes about religion with the learned of all nations, sometimes occasionally, and at other times by appointment and formal challenge;' and wrote several things in defence of the Church of England. He likewise purposed to draw a parallel between the liturgy of the Church of England and the public forms of the Protestant Churches; and 'for that end designed a journey into Spain;' 'but he met with an unexpected diversion in his first day's journey into that kingdom;' 'for he no sooner came into the house where he intended to refresh himself but he was known and called by his name by the hostess. And his lordship admiring at his being discovered, she soon revealed the secret, and shewed him his own picture, and assured him there were several of them upon the road; that, being known by them, he might be seized and carried to the Inquisition, and that her husband, among others, had power to that purpose, which he would certainly make use of if he found him. The Bishop saw evidently he was a condemned man, being already hanged in effigie, and therefore made use of the advertisement, and escaped out of the power of that Court.'"[325] As an example of the reverses suffered in those days, and to indicate the strange employments to which the highest dignitaries might have to betake themselves, it may be mentioned, that Bramhall acted as prize-master to Charles at the port of Flushing, where, in person, he sold captured freights, and had often to complain of the indignities to which he and his fellow Royalists were exposed.
Bramhall.
Although not compiling memoirs of these sufferers, yet to interest the reader, as well as illustrate the circumstances and sentiments of Episcopalians during the Commonwealth, we venture to notice certain passages in Bramhall's writings, which were composed by him during the period of his exile. In his "Just Vindication of the Church of England," printed at London (1654), the author (who wrote in Holland) complains of the Episcopalians having to suffer so much for their principles—"being chased as vagabonds into the merciless world to beg relief of strangers." Then, comparing the conduct of Papists abroad and at home during an earlier period with the conduct of English Churchmen of his own day towards indigent brethren, he charges the latter with neglecting to manifest sympathy and help. Foreign princes and their own countrymen of the same communion had founded colleges in other lands for Roman Catholics who were driven from England; and the age before the civil wars had been as fruitful in works of Protestant piety and charity as any age preceding it since the conversion of Britain. Hence, although foreign assistance could not be hoped for, yet a larger supply from home might have been expected, inasmuch as English Episcopalians then were much more numerous than English Catholics had been at the period referred to. "Hath the sword," he goes on to ask, "devoured up all the charitable Obadiahs in our land?" or, is there no man that lays "the affliction of Joseph to heart?" A great lack of love and zeal amongst brethren of the same faith in England alone could justify these interrogations—for Bramhall laments no want of ability in his friends to succour the wanderers, but only a want of will. The exiled Prelate could only cast himself and his companions upon the help of Heaven. "God, that maintained His people in the wilderness without the ordinary supply of food or raiment, will not desert us until 'He turn our captivity as the rivers in the south.' Where human help faileth, Divine begins."[326]