As to the inner life of persecuted Episcopalianism, "Evelyn's Diary" affords information beyond, perhaps, any other contemporary production. A sequestered and learned minister preached in Evelyn's parlour and administered the blessed sacrament, when, according to Episcopal usage, it was "wholly out of use in the parish churches." He heard once the Common Prayer read[354] ("a rare thing in those days") in St. Peter's, at Paul's Wharf, London; and in the morning of the same day he listened to the preaching of "the Archbishop of Armagh—that pious person and learned man, Ussher—in Lincoln's Inn Chapel." On a Christmas day there was no sermon anywhere, no church being permitted to be open, so the diarist observed it at home. The next day he went to Lewisham, where "an honest Divine delivered a discourse."[355]
Now and then an "honest orthodox man" ascended the pulpit of Evelyn's parish church, and although the Incumbent was "somewhat of the Independent," yet "he ordinarily preached sound doctrine and was a peaceable man, which was an extraordinary felicity in that age." Once Evelyn heard a person who "had been both chaplain and lieutenant to Admiral Penn, and who thus, as he says, used "both swords."[356]
Repeatedly notices occur in the "Diary" of neglected festivals, and of private preachings and communions; and he indicates his caution no less than his zeal, by stating that his only reason for going to church whilst these "usurpers" possessed the pulpits was, that he might not be suspected of being a Papist. He felt the wholesome uses of adversity, and states—after alluding to Dr. Wild as preaching in a private house in Fleet Street—that the zealous Christians who gathered together there were much more religious and devout than they had ever been in times of prosperity. He notes down the circumstance, that on Christmas day, 1657, at the conclusion of a sermon by Mr. Gunning, in Exeter Chapel, the building was surrounded by soldiers, and the communicants were kept inside as prisoners. Evelyn himself had his place of confinement in the mansion to which the chapel belonged; but was allowed to dine with the noble master of it, the Countess of Dorset, Lady Hatton, and others. Some of Oliver's colonels came in the afternoon to enquire into the matter, and they asked the Royalist churchman why he durst offend against the ordinances of Parliament. It appears from his answer that the name of "King Charles" had been omitted from the service, and that supplications of a general kind were offered on behalf of kings and princes. At the conclusion of the account, however, the diarist acknowledges that the soldiers after all, did not really interrupt the worship, but only held up their muskets "as if" he says, "they would have shot us at the altar, but yet suffering us to finish the office of communion."[357]
Such was the case in London. In the country an instance occurred—perhaps only representing several of the same kind—of a public defiance of the law. In the year 1658, as John Wilson, a cloth merchant of Leeds, kinsman of Bishop Wilson's father, was walking through the streets he met the Vicar and said to him: "When shall we have Divine service again in Leeds Old Church?" The Vicar replied: "Whenever Mr. Wilson will protect me in the discharge of my duty." "Then," he rejoined, "by the grace of God it shall be next Sunday." Accordingly, on that day the bells rang as in the days before the wars, for morning prayers, and a large congregation was gathered together. In the centre aisle stood Mr. Wilson, with a great number of persons drawn up as if to protect the Vicar. News of this occurrence soon reached London, and an order came down for the imprisonment of the bold violator of Parliamentary ordinances; but before his trial could take place Oliver Cromwell died.[358]
Episcopalians.
Mention has been already made of a practice, adopted by some Anglicans, of using parts of the Prayer Book with less or more of alteration. But besides this method another appears to have been proposed, if not actually adopted. There lies before us, at the moment of writing these lines, a little volume in manuscript,[359] evidently intended to be read by Episcopalian Churchmen in their worship during the Commonwealth. It neither exactly follows the order, nor does it, except in a very few instances, adopt the phraseology of the Common Prayer. "A Prayer preparatory to the holy Sacrament" appears upon the first page, followed by "A Meditation when we come to the holy table"—meant no doubt for private use; and next to it there follows that which appears to be the opening of a service of social worship. It commences with a long series of confessions, including this remarkable one:—"Not observing the times of festivity or fasting appointed by just authority according to the example of Thy people in all ages." After each article of confession there occur the words: "O Lord! righteousness belongs unto Thee, but unto us confusion of face, as at this day." "The form of absolution, to be pronounced by the priest only," is expressed in the following terms:—"Almighty God, our Heavenly Father, who of His great mercy hath promised forgiveness of sins to all them that with hearty repentance and true faith turn unto Him, have mercy upon you, pardon and deliver you from all your sins, confirm and strengthen you in all goodness, and bring you to everlasting salvation, both of body and soul, through Jesus Christ our Lord." Next to the absolution is the Lord's Prayer; and next to the Lord's Prayer are brief petitions associated with it—the same as are found in the like portion of the "Order for Morning and Evening Prayer" in the Church of England service at the present day. Lamentations respecting the Church and the nation are inserted; after which the first lesson is directed to be read;[360] then comes "A Form collected out of the Psalms," in which the people respond to the priest. There succeed three prayers; the first two confessing sins, and imploring mercy, the third interceding for the son of Charles I. There are also prayers for the clergy, for the enemies of the Church, and for the removal of the anger of God from His afflicted people. The service ends with the benediction. "A Prayer to be said during these troubles;" "A Confession of God's justice in His punishments, and A Deprecation of His judgments;" and "A Prayer for the 30th of January," conclude the volume. From the second of these forms we extract the following passage:—"Arise, O arm of the Lord, and put on strength, let not man have the upper hand, let not the mischievous imaginations of our enemies prosper, lest they be too proud. But now Thou hast frustrated all our worldly hopes and affiances, take the matter we beseech Thee into Thine own hands, and by what means it pleaseth Thee, put a period to our wasting miseries, that these lands may no longer be rent and torn asunder by their own children, and thus made drunk with the blood of their own inhabitants. Bring into Thy way of truth all such as offend through ignorance, mollify the hard-hearted, be merciful to all that offend not of malicious wickedness, but let Thy exemplary judgments be upon such as will not turn nor fear God, and be a means for the speedier conversion of the rest. O God of all order and peace, and yet makest men to be of one mind in an house, turn the hearts of the people of these lands to their God, to Thy servant our King, one to another, make up our breaches, heal our wounds, compose our divisions, bring all things again into a right frame among us, both in Church and State, and knit us again together in the unity of the Spirit and in the bond of peace. Arise and help us, O God of our salvation, for the glory of Thy name; help us in these our great extremities in this most needful time of trouble, for Thy promise' sake, for Thy mercies' sake, for Thy Son Christ Jesus' sake, to whom with Thee and the Holy Ghost be all glory and praise now and for ever."
Episcopalians.
Thus the proscribed and suffering children of the Episcopal Church, forbidden to use the ancient prayers so dear to their affections, prepared for themselves new ones, in which they expressed their patriotism and their loyalty. The latter sentiment is conspicuous in these original offices—indeed it had become a perfect passion in the breasts of the Episcopalians. Whatever doubts some might have formerly felt as to the wisdom of the proceedings of Charles the First, they now almost all regarded him as a martyr for Episcopacy; so that, as they engaged in their devotions, the crimson-stained shadow of the departed monarch rose before their eyes with a touching solemnity and religious reverence for his memory blended with their remembered allegiance to his crown. Thorough legitimists, they now esteemed that crown the property of his eldest son. All Republicans, all Commonwealth men, all who dared to uphold the rights of Parliament or of a Protector against the rights of kings, were to them no better than rebels. Whereas the loyalty of some persons rested on their religion, the religion of many more rested on their loyalty. They cared very little, if at all, about ecclesiastical and spiritual questions. They simply believed that King Charles had died for the Church of England, and that, as loyal men, they ought to love it for King Charles' sake. The religion of many of them was merely a feeling of that description. Sufferings in the cause—as is always the case—endeared the cause to the sufferers. They had lost their relatives in battle; they felt twinges in their old wounds when the weather changed; Naseby and Marston Moor were names to them full of anguish. They had endured confiscation, imprisonment, and bonds. One could tell how he had carried packets to the Queen at the risk of his life; a second how he had lost his eyes and his arms in the King's service; a third how he had been tossed and tumbled up and down, and was tried eleven times for his life, and how he was brought to the foot of the gallows, and yet after all escaped with his life; and a fourth, how he had lost £2,000, had been turned out of doors, had been burnt with matches, and carried to Worcester, and kept there under guard, whence he had fled, had been obliged to take to trees for a hiding place in the day time, and then to travel all night, had been caught and sent to the gatehouse, and sentenced to be shot, and had then got out of prison during sermon time, and lived three weeks in an enemy's haymow, and limped on crutches to Bristol, and so escaped. The widows of soldiers, too, talked of being plundered, stripped, and whipped, of their banished children, and of their own poverty and hardships; in all which stories, though there might be not a little exaggeration, there was also not a little truth.[361]