PREACHING.
An amusing story is related of Barrow’s preaching, soon after the Restoration, at St. Lawrence Jewry. His “aspect pale, meagre, and unpromising, slovenly and carelessly dressed, his collar unbuttoned, and his hair uncombed,” so alarmed the congregation that a spectator declares, “there was such a noise of pattens of serving maids and ordinary women, and of unlocking of pews, and cracking of seats, caused by the younger sort hastily climbing over them, that I thought all the congregation were mad.” An apprentice accosted him when all was over, saying, “Sir, be not dismayed, for I assure you ’twas a good sermon.” When asked what he thought of the congregation running away, Barrow answered—“I thought they did not like me or my sermon, and I have no reason to be angry with them for that.” “But what was your opinion of the apprentice?” “I take him,” replied he, “to be a very civil person, and if I could meet with him I’d present him with a bottle of wine.” Some of the parishioners afterwards called on Dr. Wilkins, the Incumbent, to expostulate with him for allowing one “who looked like a starved Cavalier to preach in his pulpit.” Baxter, happening to be in the Vicar’s house when the parishioners arrived, Wilkins said: “The person you thus despise, I assure you, is a pious man, an eminent scholar, and an excellent preacher, for the truth of the latter, I appeal to Mr. Baxter, here present, who heard the sermon you so vilify, I am sure you believe Mr. Baxter is a competent judge.” Baxter praised the sermon, and the parishioners ended by requesting that Barrow might preach again. But he was not disposed to appear any “more on that stage.”[312]
As to the mode of delivering sermons, some Nonconformists, as well as Churchmen, read from a MS., and Dr. Charnock is described as having used an eye-glass to assist his sight.[313] Of Baxter, it is said in the funeral sermon by his friend and assistant Sylvester—“He was a person wonderful at extemporate preaching, for having once left his notes behind him, he was surprised into extemporate thoughts upon (as I remember) Heb. iv. 15, ‘For we have not an High Priest, &c.’ Whereon he preached to very great satisfaction unto all that heard him; and when he came down from the pulpit, he asked me if I was not tired? I said, With what? He said, With his extemporate discourse. I told him, that had he not declared it, I believe none could have discovered it. His reply to me was, that he thought it very needful for a minister to have a body of divinity in his head.” Clarkson, in his funeral sermon for Dr. Owen, remarks that he seldom used notes. Of Dr. Bates, Howe observes, that faithful to the example and traditions of their Puritan fathers, “his sermons, wherein nothing could be more remote from ramble, he constantly delivered from his memory, and hath sometime told me, with an amicable freedom, that he partly did it, to teach some that were younger to preach without notes.”[314] Bull, however,—in this respect anticipating Addison,—advised young Divines not at first to preach their own sermons, but to provide themselves with the compositions of approved authors, or to read to their congregations either one of the authorized Homilies or a chapter selected from The Whole Duty of Man.[315] The old Puritan practice of taking down sermons continued to be very common; and, if we may notice so trivial a matter as pulpit costume, it is amusing to add an odd story told of a Royal chaplain, who preached before the King at Newmarket, “in a long periwig and holland sleeves, according to the then fashion for gentlemen,” at which His Majesty was so scandalized that he commanded the Chancellor of the University to put in execution the statutes respecting decency in apparel.[316]
SUPERSTITION.
VIII. Superstition still prevailed. Though the zeal for witchfinding diminished, rumours of witchcraft continued in circulation. People in Worcestershire said, that if certain witches had not been taken up, the King would never have returned to England. From Lancashire, a stronghold of the infernal sisterhood, one of the correspondents of the Secretary of State wrote an account of a woman who confessed, that she, and her father and her mother, “each rode on a black cat to Warrington, nine miles off, and that the cats sucked her mother till they sucked blood.” He states, however, that he had “little faith in this, though given on oath.”[317]
Wise and good men, especially Divines and lawyers, clung as firmly as ever to the old belief of the power of necromancy. Baxter pursued his inquiries into the subject; and Sir Matthew Hale, at the Bury Assizes, in March, 1664, observed, touching a witch case, that he made no doubt there were such creatures, and appealed to Scripture in proof of the fact.[318] On that occasion, Sir Thomas Browne, gave it as his opinion, that the parties named in the indictment as sufferers, were really bewitched. It is proper to remember, with respect to such superstitions, that, at that time, things were worse in France than in England. Witchcraft, divination, raising apparitions, and consulting the stars, were so common there in 1679, that a Commission was appointed, called the “Chambre Ardente,” to inquire into such cases.
The Royal touch for curing the King’s Evil was again sought and bestowed. A minute religious ceremonial, almost incredible to us, accompanied the act. His Majesty sat in a chair of state. One of the Clerks of the Closet stood on his right hand, holding as many gold angels, everyone tied to a riband of white silk, as there were patients to be touched. A chaplain read in the 16th chapter of the Gospel of Mark from the 14th verse to the end. The chirurgeon presented the diseased; and making three reverences, they knelt down together before the King, the chaplain repeating the words: “They shall lay their hands on the sick, and they shall be healed.” His Majesty then touched the cheeks of the persons brought to be cured; after which, the chaplain read the first chapter of John as far as the 15th verse; and, as the words were pronounced, “That was the true light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world,” the King suspended round the neck of each person one of the gold angels, handed to him by the clerk. Other passages of Scripture followed, a prayer was offered, and the ceremony ended with the King’s washing his hands.[319] Numerous were the applications made for the Royal touch, to which, no doubt, the obtaining of a gold angel operated as a motive, no less than the hope of receiving a sovereign cure.
SUPERSTITION.
I add a further illustration of the superstition of the age, not amongst the ignorant, but the educated. Rectors of parishes requested the Secretary of State to procure His Majesty’s touch for parishioners who were troubled with the malady. When Charles II. went to Newmarket, Sir Thomas Browne wrote to Sergeant Knight, and sent certificates for divers afflicted persons who were going from Norwich to be touched by the King. No fewer than 92,107 persons were asserted by the eminent physician, just named, to have passed through this ceremony between the years 1660 and 1683. One woman is said to have been cured of blindness by these wonderful means; and greater marvel still, a man is reported to have been cured of Nonconformity by witnessing the effect of the Royal fingers upon his child!—he expressed his thanks in this method: “Farewell to all Dissenters, and to all Nonconformists; if God can put so much virtue into the King’s hand as to heal my child, I’ll serve that God and that King so long as I live with all thankfulness.” An example of other absurd beliefs is found in a statement made to the Secretary of State, about a salmon which came up to the River Avon, on a Christmas Day. It was represented as being so religious, that it allowed itself to be touched by a staff, whereas at other times it is said, “Salmon are so shy that they endure not the least shadow.” “If any one made a prey of these quiet Christian fish they came to an unfortunate end.”[320]
Samuel Hartlib, in his correspondence with Dr. Worthington, of Cambridge, raised a question respecting angelic apparitions: “For long-bearded, good angels,” he says, “or lady-angels of true light, they do indeed cross all the old records of antiquity, whether Gentile or Jewish, neither Mercury, nor Gabriel, appeared otherwise than in prime of youthful vigour.”[321] The Cambridge scholar inclined to the idea, that angels might appear in long beards, and told his friend a story of a stranger, who knocked at a sick man’s door, and directed him to make use of two red sage leaves, and one blood-wort leaf, steeped in beer for three days,—and to live for a month in fresh country air. “Several circumstances,” he gravely added, “made it probable that he who came was a good angel, and if so, that he appeared as a grave old man, very tall and straight, of a very fresh colour, his hair as white as wool, and his beard broad and very white.” This old man, believed to be an angelic visitant, wore new shoes, tied with black ribbons.[322]