On the 8th of May, four days after the Presbyterians had put in their exceptions, Convocation met for the first time since the year 1640;[218] the Northern Synod assembling at York, the Southern at London.

Sheldon, Bishop of London, with other Bishops of the province of Canterbury, together with Deans, Archdeacons, and Priests, also the Dean of the Arches, with his Advocates and Proctors, repaired to the house of Dr. Barwick, a physician, in St. Paul's Churchyard. In that house, during the Civil Wars, he had entertained his brother John, afterwards Dean of St. Paul's, and allowed him the use of an oratory—some Gothic chamber, perhaps, with quaint oriel, destroyed in the London fire. Arrayed in their vestments, the Bishops and clergy entered in procession through the "little south gate," into the ancient Gothic edifice, for the restoring of which a deep and wide-spread zeal had begun to show itself—the Cathedral being, it is said, "a princely ornament of the Royal city," where was a confluence of foreign princes' ambassadors, the structure being "injured by the iniquity of the late times," and its repair being necessary to prevent the dishonour of its neglect falling upon the whole city.[219]

There, the Dean, Residentiaries, and the rest of the Canons, were waiting to receive the procession with due ceremony, and to conduct its members into the choir. It was a jubilant hour for the Episcopal Church of England, for it betokened a resurrection after years of death-like silence, imprisonment, and humiliation; and no doubt, in many a bosom, sentiments of deepest gratitude and adoration, mingled with feelings of excusable pride, as the choir fervently sang the Te Deum in English; and Dr. Thomas Pearce preached a sermon in Latin from Acts xv. 28, "For it seemed good to the Holy Ghost, and to us, to lay upon you no greater burden than these necessary things." The sermon ended, and an anthem sung, Sheldon, the Bishop of London, who acted as President, in consequence of the advanced age and infirmities of Juxon, with the rest of the clergy, went into a Chapter House provided for the occasion, "the goodly old house being, by the impiety of Oliver Cromwell's Horse Guards, rendered unfit for use." The King's Writ and the Archbishop's Commission to the Bishop were formally presented and read; after which the latter, "in excellent Latin," addressed the Lower House, bidding them go and choose their Prolocutor.

On the Thursday following, May the 16th, Dr. John Pearson, Archdeacon of Surrey, presented Dr. Henry Ferne, Dean of Ely, as the Prolocutor chosen by the Lower House; and "three elegant Latin speeches were made: one by the presenter, another by the Prolocutor, and a third by His Lordship the Bishop of London, in approbation of their election."[220] This ceremony took place in Henry VII.'s Chapel, Westminster—whither, from St. Paul's Cathedral, Convocation had adjourned, as to the place of meeting used by the representatives of the clergy before the Civil Wars—and that Chapel, many of those who now ascended the stone steps at the back of the Abbey choir, would consider to have suffered almost as much desecration from the Presbyterian Assembly of Divines, as other parts of the sacred edifice had done from the depredations of the soldiery.

Convocation sat, probably, "in one of the inferior chapels."[221] No one like Robert Baillie—who so minutely describes the Westminster Assembly—has bequeathed us a picture of this Episcopalian Synod twenty years afterwards; but anybody who has witnessed the meetings of the Lower House—the Deans in their scarlet robes as Doctors, and other dignitaries in academic costumes, with square caps in their hands, can picture what a contrast, in these respects, the clergy convened in 1661, in a side Chapel of the Abbey, must have presented to the ministers, who assembled in 1643, within the Jerusalem Chamber. Nor can we find any report of the Debate, like that preserved in the Diary of Lightfoot; but there can be no doubt that the usual characteristics of ecclesiastical councils and conferences might be found on this occasion; that there was much of learning, of eloquence, and of hair-splitting; that some speeches were logical, and others very illogical; that the debates were sometimes wearisome, and sometimes lively; and that, occasionally, irregularities of discussion called for the interference of the Prolocutor.[222]

An early act of Convocation, indeed, one on the very day of meeting, was to deliberate respecting forms of prayer for the two anniversaries so intimately connected with the Royal family—the anniversary of Charles II.'s birth, and return; and the anniversary of his father's death. The Bishop of Ely, one of a Committee appointed for the purpose, presented the first of these to the Upper House on the 18th, and the form was confirmed and issued by the King in Council on the 22nd.[223] On the 18th also, the Bishop of London recommended that a form should be prepared for the baptism of adults,—it being alleged that many people, owing to the diffusion of Anabaptist opinions, had not been baptized in their childhood. That duty was entrusted, like the other, to four Bishops and eight clergymen, and the result appeared and received approval on the 31st. A Committee of Prelates and Presbyters undertook to frame the service for Charles' martyrdom. It is a curious fact, that there were two offices for the 30th of January, drawn up in the year 1661, in one of which, referring to Charles and other martyrs, there occurred the words, "That we may be made worthy to receive benefit by their prayers, which they, in communion with the Church Catholic, offer up unto Thee for that part of it here militant." Such a recognition of the intercession of saints in Heaven, indicating a strong Romanist tendency, has been made a ground of reproach by Nonconformist opponents; on the other hand, Episcopalians have denied the existence of the words in any collect prepared for the occasion. The contradiction is just, so far as the form adopted by Convocation is concerned; but there was an earlier one, laid aside on account of its containing the clause in question.[224] The form in the Prayer Book of 1662 differed from both the forms which made their appearance in 1661.

Upon the 31st of May, Dr. Pory introduced a prayer for the Parliament, which was not an entirely new composition, inasmuch as one including the expression, "our religious and gracious King," had been inserted in the Prayer Book in the reign of Charles I.[225] It appeared, for the first time, in its present shape for use, at a general fast, held on the 12th of June, 1661, special mention of it being made on the title page; from which form of service it was transferred to the Book of Common Prayer. For the same fast a general form, suited for such an occasion, was ordered on the 7th of June, to be prepared by a Committee; also, a supplication for fair weather was recommended for consideration. Upon the 18th of June, the King issued his letters patent, authorizing Convocation to make canons and constitutions; in which letters occur a formula, to the effect that the clergy had always promised, "in verbo sacerdotii," that they would never promulge, or execute any new ordinances without legal license:[226] accordingly the Acts of Convocation, on the following day, notice the receiving of this Royal license, and record the appointment of certain Bishops and Presbyters as a Committee for considering the business to which it relates,—the Committee being appointed to meet at the Savoy Palace.[227] Upon the 17th of July the Bishop of Salisbury presented a draft of canons which he had prepared, and which were again referred to him for further consideration. On the 19th and 22nd the canons still occupied the attention of the Upper House. On the 27th a benevolence was voted to His Majesty; on the 31st Convocation adjourned.[228]

Thus far, we have ventured to place the contemporary proceedings of the Savoy Conference, and those of Convocation, in parallel lines; there is an advantage in doing so. We see how additions to the Prayer Book, made at the very time when the Commissioners were engaged in discussions upon its existing contents, would appear vexatious to the Puritans: we also clearly notice the peculiar position of Reynolds, who appeared at the Savoy as a Presbyterian, and in Convocation as a Prelate—in the one character apparently objecting to the Prayer Book, in the other, adding to it new forms; and we discover that the Houses of Convocation refrained, whilst the Commission lasted, from doing more than supplying certain additional prayers, deferring the business of revision until the Conference had broken up.

We have seen the Presbyterians at the Conference putting in their exceptions; we now turn to the answers of the Bishops. They were written in an discourteous, uncharitable, and captious spirit, not indicating the slightest disposition to conciliate, but foreclosing the possibility of removing any Presbyterian objection: for they said, the alteration asked would be a virtual confession that the Liturgy is an intolerable burden to tender consciences, a direct cause of schism, a superstitious usage—it would justify past Nonconformity, and condemn the conduct of Conformists. The document presents an angry defence of the Church formulas; and, whilst there is much in the reasoning which commends itself to admirers of the Liturgy, the temper betrayed is of a kind which assuredly most of those admirers will condemn.[229]

The discussion upon baptism alone needs particular attention. It is affirmed that the form in the Prayer Book is "most proper; for baptism is our spiritual regeneration." That answer indicates that the Episcopalians in the Conference took the words in the Prayer Book to express the doctrine of baptismal regeneration. "Seeing," say they, "that God's sacraments have their effects where the receiver doth not 'ponere obicem' put any bar against them (which children cannot do), we may say in faith, of every child that is baptized, that it is regenerated by God's Holy Spirit; and the denial of it tends to Anabaptism, and the contempt of this holy sacrament as nothing worthy, nor material, whether it be administered to children or no."[230]

It had been arranged, that whilst the rest of the Presbyterian brethren employed themselves in drawing up exceptions against the Book of Common Prayer, Baxter should prepare additions. In one fortnight he accomplished his task, and presented his Reformed Liturgy. A Reformed Liturgy, differing from that of the Church of England, had, in the sixteenth century, been published in Holland; but it amounts to no more than a compilation from Calvin's Genevan Service Book. Baxter determined that his should be original; and, accordingly, setting to work with his Bible and his Concordance, he drew up a new collection of devotional offices. They include orders of service for the Lord's Day, and for the celebration of the sacraments of the Lord's Supper and Baptism; a discourse upon catechizing, preparatory to the communion; a form to be used in marriage; directions for the visitation of the sick, and the burial of the dead; prayers and thanksgiving for extraordinary occasions, and for particular persons; and a discourse on pastoral discipline, with forms of public confession, absolution, and exclusion from the fellowship of the Church. He also prepared an Appendix, containing a larger litany or general prayer, and a long ascription of praise for our redemption.[231]

The author tells us that he compared what he did with the Assembly's Directory, the Book of Common Prayer, and Hammond L'Estrange; but he seems to have borrowed little or nothing from these sources, beyond introducing or allowing the use of the creeds—sometimes the use of the Athanasian Creed—the Te Deum, and the psalms in order for the day. The modes of expression employed by Baxter are not founded upon the study of former liturgies, and are remarkably unlike those of the Anglican and the ancient Communions. They are carefully drawn from the Bible, and the margin of the new service book is studded with innumerable references to Scripture texts. No one who reads the work, especially considering the short time in which it was executed, but must acknowledge it to be a very extraordinary performance; and even Dr. Johnson said of the office for the communion, "that it was one of the first compositions of the ritual kind he had ever seen."[232] The comprehension and fervour of all the prayers must excite admiration; but many of them labour under the Puritan disadvantage of being too long, and they are frequently at variance with that kind of religious taste which appreciates the character and tone of the litanies and the collects of the Church of England.

Baxter candidly admits, that he made "an entire Liturgy, but might not call it so," because the Commissioners required only "additions to, or alterations of, the Book of Common Prayer."[233] How a completely new Liturgy could come under the latter denomination I cannot understand. As he omitted all reference to the Book of Common Prayer, his new Directory bore on the face of it the intention of superseding, or of rivalling that venerable manual of devotion; and wherever the former might have been adopted, it would virtually have put the latter aside. Still, as his petition shows, he was willing that it should be left for ministers to decide which Liturgy they would adopt; and, it may be concluded, that he would not have objected to a blending of the two, however incongruous such a thing may appear to many.

This famous Presbyterian polemic, at the same time that he presented his reformed formularies, presented with them a petition to the Bishops, begging them to yield to such terms of peace and concord as they themselves confessed to be lawful. "For though," as he argued, "we are equals in the King's Commission, yet we are commanded by the Holy Ghost, if it be possible, and as much as in us lieth, to live peaceably with all men;—and if we were denied, it would satisfy our consciences, and justify us before all the world;"[234]—two points which that honest theologian ever kept in mind. He craved consent to read the document; some objected, but, ultimately, the reading of it was allowed. It consisted chiefly of an appeal to Christian feeling, founded upon a variety of considerations, especially upon the wrong which would be done to the Puritan brethren, and the mischief inflicted on the Church of England if their scruples were disregarded.[235]

The contrast between the pacific, conciliatory, and reasonable strain of the petition, and the hard and repulsive tone of the prelates' answers to the exceptions, is very striking.

A rejoinder to the Bishops' answers, touching the exceptions made to the Liturgy, followed, on the part of the ministers. A preface to it was drawn up by Calamy. The rejoinder itself, composed by Baxter, forming, indeed, a book of 148 pages, and taking up the Episcopal document, paragraph by paragraph, with a great deal of close reasoning and scholastic subtilty, is too extensive in its range, and too minute in its details, to admit of any satisfactory synopsis of its contents being presented on these pages. But a sharp reference, at the close, to the concessions offered by the Bishops must be noticed. After thanking them, Baxter adds, in the name of his brethren, "we must say in the conclusion, that, if these be all the abatements and amendments you will admit, you sell your innocency and the Church's peace for nothing."[236]

Time wore away, and nothing resulted from these long papers. At last came a session for vivâ voce debate. The Puritans wished the Bishops to talk freely, but their Lordships maintained a prudent reticence, and even Reynolds could not persuade his Episcopalian brethren by "friendly conference to go over the particulars excepted against;" they resolutely insisted that they had nothing to do until the necessity for alteration should be proved,—proved that necessity already was, in the estimation of Puritans, proved it could not be in the estimation of Anglicans.

All hope of a pacifying conference being abandoned, the Presbyterian Divines agreed to a debate; many hours were spent in fixing its order. The Bishops, according to their policy throughout, maintained that it belonged to those who were accusers to begin; they were simply on the defence. No effect was produced by the Presbyterians' rejoinder:—"We are the defendants against your impositions; you command us to do certain things under pain of excommunication, imprisonment, and silence. We defend ourselves against this cruelty, by asking you to show authority for this." At last it was settled, that there should be a formal dispute, to be conducted by three persons on each side. Strangers were allowed to be present, and the room was full of auditors,—young Tillotson, the eminent preacher and Archbishop of later days, being amongst them. The debate turned upon vague abstractions, and upon subtle theological distinctions, occasionally interrupted by outbursts of temper and uncivil personalities. As might be expected, the Hall of the Savoy Palace became an arena for logical gladiatorship, and the object of the meeting a strife for victory.

At one time it seemed as if light were breaking through the clouds. Bishop Cosin, who on the occasion now referred to, occupied the chair, laid before the meeting a paper, which, he said, a worthy person had offered unto his superiors. It put,

I. The question, "Whether there be anything in the Doctrine, or Discipline, or the Common Prayer, or Ceremonies, contrary to the Word of God?"

II. It asked, if nothing in the Book was unscriptural, what the Presbyterians desired in point of expediency?

III. It then suggested that such desires should be submitted to "the consideration and judgment of the Convocation, who are the proper and authentic representatives of the Ministry."[237]

Baxter drew up an answer, in which he maintained the principal part of these proposals "to be rational, regular, and Christianlike." After going over much of the old ground, and referring to the Convocation in no unfriendly spirit, he says: "We are resolved faithfully to teach the people, that the division of the Church is worse than inexpedient:" and, "We conclude with the repetition of our more earnest request, that these wise and moderate proposals may be prosecuted, and all things be abated us, which we have proved or shall prove to be contrary to the Word of God."[238]

To talk in this way seemed hopeful; but hope in this instance was a delusion. Each party suspected the other. Mutual confidence did not exist. Baxter, although he wrote as he did, really looked at the seemingly friendly proposals, as "a cunning snare."

The paper warfare recommenced—the disputants on each side, "writing extempore," withdrawing into another room for that purpose.[239] The first subject discussed was the "imposition of kneeling," to which Baxter, although he took the gesture itself as lawful, objected, because he thought antiquity was against the custom, and because "the penalty is so immediate and great, to put all that kneel not, from the communion." With this discussion was connected another, as to whether there is anything sinful in the Liturgy.[240] The following specimen in relation to the last question may give some idea of the scholastic forms which were employed. The Episcopal opponents maintained, "That command which commandeth only an act, in itself lawful, is not sinful." The Presbyterian respondents denied this, contending that some unlawful circumstance might hang in the command, or that the penalty might be overcharged. The proposition, after revision, was put thus: "That command which commandeth an act, in itself lawful, and no other act whereby any unjust penalty is enjoined, nor any circumstance whence directly, or per accidens any sin is consequent, which the commander ought to provide against, is not sinful." The respondents denied again, on the ground, that "the first act commanded may be per accidens unlawful, and be commanded by an unjust penalty, though no other act or circumstance be such." The Bishops amended their proposition at last, making their logical network so fine that even Baxter, subtle as he might be, could scarcely wriggle through the meshes. "That command which commandeth an act, in itself lawful, and no other act whereby any unjust penalty is enjoined, nor any circumstance whence directly, or per accidens, any sin is consequent, which the commander ought to provide against, hath in it all things requisite to the lawfulness of a command, and particularly cannot be guilty of commanding an act per accidens unlawful, nor of commanding an act under an unjust penalty."[241] Thomas Aquinas was not more acute, more ingenious, or more wearisome. Morley, many years afterwards, urged that denying such a proposition as the last, was not only false and frivolous, but "destructive of all authority," and struck the Church out of all power to make canons for order and discipline.[242] To those who admit that the Church may, within limits, decree rites and ceremonies—and Baxter in his arguments did not deny this—Morley's reasoning is forcible. The manner in which Baxter met the position of his opponents was by no means satisfactory, and his warmest admirers must acknowledge that his mode of conducting this part of the controversy was no less injudicious than honest.

In drawing to a close our account of the Conference, it is important to mention that the Bill of Uniformity, hereafter to be described, actually passed the House of Commons on the 9th of July, about a fortnight before the Conference broke up. The proceedings of a Royal Commission to review the Prayer Book, and make alterations for the satisfaction of tender consciences were, by this premature act, really treated with mockery—a circumstance which could not but exceedingly offend and annoy the Puritan members, and especially serve to embitter the language of Baxter as the end of the fruitless sittings approached.[243]

The last two meetings are particularly described: The Doctors on the Episcopalian side, Baxter says, crowded in—not more than two or three were present on the other side. Sanderson, Bishop of Lincoln, occupied the chair—"a very worthy man, but for that great peevishness, which injuries, partiality, temperature, and age had caused in him." A paper by Gunning came under discussion. He denied a statement made by Baxter, Bates, and Jacomb. The latter, on oath, confirmed what Baxter said; but the Chairman pronounced that Gunning had the best of it. He further charged Baxter with being contentious. Baxter told him that it was strange, a man should be prevented from replying to his antagonist. Gunning advanced citations in proof of his point; upon which Cosin called upon all the Bishops and Doctors on his side, at that moment a large majority, to give their votes. They all cried "Aye!" Those who are familiar with modern committees, and with what occurs when both parties lose their tempers, and the stronger carries the point, can understand how the Savoy Conference terminated. "We were all agreed," says Baxter, "on the ends for the Church's welfare, unity, and peace, and His Majesty's happiness and contentment; but after all our debates, were disagreed of the means, and this was the end of that Assembly and Commission."[244]

Thus ended the last of the three great Conferences between Anglicans and Puritans; the two previous ones being held, respectively, at Hampton Court before King James, and in the Jerusalem Chamber under Dean Williams. It reminds us of another Conference, the last between Romanists and Reformers, carried on in Westminster Abbey in the month of March, 1559. Like the Romanist Bishops on that occasion, the Anglican Bishops on this, protested, with some reason, that it was not for them to prove the Church's doctrine to be true; they professed the old established faith of Christendom; if it was attacked, they were ready to answer objections. But unlike the Popish, the Anglican prelates were now in the ascendant, and had their opponents at their feet. The Puritans, on the other hand, resembled, as to relative position, the Romanists, of whom it is remarked, they "were but actors in a play, of which the finale was already arranged."[245]

It is amusing to read Baxter's account of his brother Commissioners. Some, he says, rarely attended, and when they did, said very little. Morley was often there, a chief speaker, with fluent words, and much earnestness, vehemently going on, and bearing down replies by his interruptions. Cosin was constant in attendance, talking much, with little logic, though with abundant learning in canons, councils, and patristic lore. Henchman was the most grave and comely of the Bishops, and expressed himself calmly and slowly, with some reticence. Gauden was almost always present, and though he had a bitter pen, he was moderate in speech, "and if all had been of his mind," says our reporter, "we had been reconciled." Reynolds spoke much the first day, to bring his Episcopal brethren to moderation; a "solid, honest man, but through mildness and excess of timorous reverence to great men, altogether unfit to contend with them." Dr. Pearson was a true logician, disputing "accurately, soberly, and calmly"—"breeding in us a great respect for him, and a persuasion that if he had been independent he would have been for peace." Dr. Gunning mixed passionate invectives with some of his argumentations, though understanding well what belonged to a disputant, but "so vehement for his high imposing principles, and so over zealous for Arminianism and formality and Church pomp."[246] Sterne, Bishop of Carlisle, "looked so honestly and gravely and soberly," that it seemed, such a face could not have deceived. Baxter's judgment of physiognomy here, however, proved to be at fault, for when the prelate once broke silence, it was to exclaim,—as Baxter used the word, "nation:"—"he will not say kingdom lest he should own a king."[247] While Baxter thus spoke of his opponents, they thus spoke of him: "At this Conference in the Savoy, that reverend and great man, Bishop Morley, tells us, the generality of the nonconforming Divines showed themselves unwilling to enter upon dispute, and seemed to like much better another way tending to an amicable and fair compliance, which was frustrated by a certain person's furious eagerness to engage in a disputation, meaning Mr. Baxter."[248] "There was a great submission paid to him by the whole party. So he persuaded them, that from the words of the Commission they were bound to offer every thing that they thought might conduce to the good or peace of the Church, without considering what was like to be obtained, or what effect their demanding so much might have, in irritating the minds of those who were then the superior body in strength and number."[249]

After the debates were over, the Presbyterians waited on the Lord Chancellor, to advise with him as to the account to be given of their doings to the King. At first His Lordship received Baxter "merrily," and comparing his spare figure and his thin face with the rotunder form and plumper cheeks of one of his companions, said, "If you were as fat as Dr. Manton, we should all do well." To which Baxter—fixing his dark eyes on Clarendon, replied—"If His Lordship could teach me the art of growing fat, he should find me not unwilling to learn by any good means."[250] Becoming serious, the Chancellor charged the Divine with being severe, strict, and melancholy, making things to be sin which were not so. The latter simply rejoined, that he had spoken nothing but what he thought, and nothing but what he had given reasons for thinking.

He afterwards drew up a paper in the form of a petition, supplying an account of the Conference; and it was arranged that Reynolds, Bates, and Manton should present the document. Baxter accompanied them at their own request. Manton delivered the paper into the Royal hands; Reynolds added a few words; and, of course, Baxter could not be silent. He made, as he represents, "a short speech," in which he informed His Majesty how far they had agreed with the Bishops, "and wherein the difference did not lie, as in the points of loyalty, obedience, and Church order." The King put the commonplace question suggested in all such disputes, "But who shall be judge?" Baxter seized the opportunity to say that "Judgment is either public or private—private judgment called discretionis, which is but the use of my reason to conduct my actions, belongeth to every private rational man; public judgment is ecclesiastical or civil, and belongeth accordingly to the ecclesiastical governors (or pastors), and the civil, and not to any private man." If Charles II. had been like his grandfather, James, a scholastic discussion had been inevitable; but the gay grandson, perhaps without heeding what the words meant, passed over Baxter's remark in silence. The Puritan historian winds up all with the curt remark, "And this was the end of these affairs."[251]

Much sorrow and trouble sprung out of the Conference.[252] The Episcopalian Royalists treated their opponents as a vanquished party, and retorted on their old persecutors by calling them seditious and disaffected. Young clergymen hoped they were on the road to preferment if they reviled and calumniated Presbyterians; and Baxter especially became a butt for malignant marksmen. Even his prayers were heard with suspicion, and so, as he said, it was a mercy when he was silenced. Yet his own account of the Conference produced a favourable impression in quarters where he and his friends had been misapprehended. The Independents, in the first instance, had been annoyed that the Presbyterians had not consulted them; some of the latter Divines, too, had been zealous of their more influential brethren, and both parties had joined in saying that the Puritan Commissioners were too forward in meeting the Bishops, and too ready to make concessions; and that Baxter, although unimpeachable as to his motives, had been too eager for concord, and too ready for compromise. But now the printed papers turned the tide; the Independents admitted that the Presbyterian Commissioners had been faithful to their principles.[253]

The Independents took no part in the Conference at Worcester House or in that at the Savoy. They were not consulted by Presbyterians—an instance of neglect which some of the Independents resented—but it is plain, from a consideration of the principles of the latter party during the Civil Wars and Commonwealth, that they could not, consistently with those principles, harmoniously unite in any scheme for comprehension. Their methods of Church discipline, felt to be most important for securing the purity of their Churches, rendered it impossible that their ecclesiastical institutions should work in harmony with an Establishment. Why the Independents were overlooked by the Government at that period, is obvious. At the Restoration they were thrown into the background. Their previous political influence had sprung from their connection with the Army, from the favour of Republican officers, and from the religious sympathies of Oliver Cromwell. That influence terminated on the eve of the King's return; and it is easy, without suspecting their loyalty, to understand how they would, at such a crisis, lose social position as well as political influence.[254] Their prosperity under the Protectorate necessarily entailed their adversity at the Restoration. Moreover, although to the Presbyterians there remained friends at Court in the Earl of Manchester and other noblemen, the Independents enjoyed no aristocratic patrons. The Fleetwoods, Desboroughs, and Berrys, so far from being able to assist their fellow-religionists, had enough to do to take care of themselves. The Presbyterians, as we have seen, had still, in London, clergymen of high standing and great activity, but the Independents could not make any boast of that kind. Dr. Owen, who of them all, perhaps, possessed the greatest influence, lived in retirement at Stadham. John Howe, never a party man, and thoroughly averse to the occupations of public life, quietly pursued his pastoral duties at Torrington. Dr. Goodwin, it is true, had removed to the metropolis on his ejectment from Oxford, but he now spent his time in seclusion; and Caryl, another distinguished member of the Congregational body, and a City pastor, preferred commenting on the Book of Job, to any entanglement in political affairs. Philip Nye was, probably, the most active of the denomination, but he had no power to serve the cause, forasmuch, as at the time of the Restoration he had narrowly escaped the fate of Hugh Peters.[255] The Independents, as a party, were not in a position just then to render it a matter of importance that the Government should conciliate them; nor did they manifest any desire to secure for their system the temporal benefits of State endowment. Their retirement from the stage of public affairs brought them no disadvantage. Providence had appointed for them a moral discipline, of which the fruit was to appear in after years. They had embraced principles eminently conducive to the freedom and spirituality of Christ's Church, and they were destined to take an important part in the development of English Christianity through the diffusion of those principles. Their disconnection with the Establishment harmonized with that destiny. The Baptists, like the Independents, and for similar reasons, were unrepresented in the Commission; so indeed, also, if we except Reynolds, were the moderate Episcopalians, who although not prepared to go so far as their High Church brethren in the matter of conformity, were ready to advance in that direction much beyond the limits marked out by the Presbyterians; but looking at the temper on the other side, there is no reason to suppose that the presence and counsels of such men would have altered the results of the discussions.

Having described the Savoy Conference, and the contemporary meetings of Convocation, there remain to be noticed the proceedings of that higher assembly, with which both the others were coeval.