XII. The charities revived or established after the Restoration, springing from the benevolent spirit of Christianity, call for some notice. Visiting the venerable hospital of St. Mary, in the City of Chichester, with its spacious hall, spanned by an arched roof, and its rows of tiny rooms built on either side, as if in a covered street, with its chapel and altar table, and other provisions for Episcopalian worship on Sundays and week-days, and with its old-fashioned men and women finding rest in their declining days, after the toils and troubles of life; or visiting the like venerable hospital of Bishopgate, in the City of Norwich, with somewhat similar arrangements, we see the kind of place in which benevolent people loved to shelter the aged and the infirm in the days of Charles II. After the banishment—during the Commonwealth—of the ancient religious services, and of the old spirit of these quaint retreats—not, however, to the violation of the charitable purposes of the foundation—those services took possession of them again at the Restoration. The same may be said of numerous almshouses in different parts of the country.

New ones of a similar description were established. Bishop Ward’s College of Matrons, for the maintenance of ten widows of orthodox clergymen, may be mentioned as an instance. He disliked it to be called an hospital, it being intended for those who were well descended, and had lived in good reputation. He purchased land in the Close at Salisbury, on which to erect the buildings, and the Cathedral being so near, they were required to attend worship there, both morning and evening. The same prelate endowed an hospital at Buntingford, in Hertfordshire, the place of his birth, for ten aged men, each to receive ten pounds a year.

Some persons, in founding almshouses, required that all the inmates should “be conformed to the Church of England, according to the Thirty-Nine Articles,” and placed under the ban of exclusion all such as should not profess, or follow the Protestant religion, or should absent themselves from the parish or castle church without cause.[354] Others devised bequests in a more catholic spirit, providing “that poor boys may be instructed in the principles of the Protestant religion, and in the fear of the Lord, and also to read and to write, and to cast up accounts, that so they may be blessed in their souls as well as in their bodies, and may be a blessing to their masters, and may for ever have cause to bless God for the fatherly care” of the Mayor on their behalf.[355]

The name of a singular kind of person, who signalized himself by his beneficence, may also be introduced.

An epitaph on a tomb-stone in the Chapel of Jesus’ College, Cambridge, records his deeds:—“Tobias Rustat, Yeoman of the Robes to King Charles II., whom he served with all duty and faithfulness in his adversity as well as prosperity, both at home and abroad. The greatest part of the estate he gathered by God’s blessing, the King’s favour, and his industry, he disposed in his lifetime in works of charity, and found the more he bestowed upon churches, hospitals, universities, and colleges, and upon poor widows and orphans of orthodox ministers, the more he had at the year’s end. Neither was he unmindful of his kindred and relations in making them provision out of what remained. He died a bachelor the 15th day of March, in the year of our Lord 1693, aged 87.”

Dr. Sutcliffe, in the reign of James I., founded and built a college at Chelsea “principally for the maintenance of the true Catholic, Apostolic, and Christian faith, and next, for the practice, setting forth, and increase of true and sound learning against the pedantry, sophistries and novelties of the Jesuits, and others, the Pope’s factors and followers; and, thirdly, against the treachery of the Pelagians, and Arminians, and others, that draw towards Popery and Babylonian slavery, endeavouring to make a rent in God’s Church, and a peace between heresy and God’s true faith—between Christ and Antichrist.”[356] Although patronized by the King, this indefinite scheme for maintaining truth in a controversial age came to nothing, and Charles II. appropriated the ground occupied by the college to the famous Royal Hospital for superannuated soldiers. Everybody is familiar with the imposing edifice near the banks of the Thames, and with the stories about Nell Gwynn’s influence, in the establishment of the foundation, but it is not generally known, that a number of persons, besides the King, took part in the work, and that it is really a monument of national as well as of Royal munificence.

Tillotson, in one of his sermons, commemorates the benevolence of a London merchant:—

“He (Mr. Gouge) set the poor of St. Sepulchre’s parish (where he was a minister) to work at his own charge. He bought flax and hemp for them to spin; when spun he paid them for their work, and caused it to be wrought into cloth, which he sold as he could, himself bearing the whole loss. This was a very wise and well-chosen way of charity, and in the good effect of it, a much greater charity; than if he had given to those very persons (freely and for nothing) so much as he made them earn by their work, because, by this means, he rescued them from two most dangerous temptations—idleness and poverty. This course, so happily devised and begun by Mr. Gouge, gave, it may be, the first hint to that useful and worthy citizen, Mr. Thos. Firman, of a much larger design, which has been managed by him some years in this city, with that vigour and good success, that many hundreds of poor children, and others, who lived idle before, unprofitable both to themselves and the public, now maintain themselves, and are also some advantage to the community. By the assistance and charity of many excellent and well-disposed persons, Mr. Firman is enabled to bear the unavoidable loss and charge of so vast an undertaking, and by his own forward inclination to charity, and unwearied diligence and activity, is fitted to sustain and go through the incredible pains of it.”[357]

Such instances of Christian benevolence are quite as worthy of being recorded in ecclesiastical history as the strifes of controversy, and the changes of government, and it may therefore be added in reference to “the useful and worthy citizen, Mr. Firman,” just mentioned, that, although he was a person of singular and heterodox opinions, he distinguished himself above many who condemned his errors; and left behind him a name for active and unwearied charity, which entitles him to a place in the same honourable list with Howard, Fry, and Peabody. The details of his beneficence are minutely recorded in his interesting life: besides establishing a linen manufactory entirely for the employment and benefit of poor spinners, he visited prisons, and redeemed poor debtors; he was a zealous supporter of Christ’s and St. Thomas’ Hospitals; he largely gave away Bibles, good books, and catechisms; he diligently helped the French Refugees; he evinced a deep interest in the sufferings and relief of the persecuted Irish, and he was an eminent contributor to the wants of the poor.[358]

Nor were missionary efforts altogether neglected. Sir Leoline Jenkins—who, in 1680, succeeded Sir William Coventry as Secretary of State—was touched by the large amount of spiritual destitution amongst the Navy and in the Colonies, and with a view to the supplying of it, he instituted two fellowships in Jesus’ College, Oxford, the holders of which should go out to sea as Chaplains of the Fleet, or proceed to “His Majesty’s foreign plantations, there to take upon them a cure of souls.”

In July, 1649, an ordinance had been passed by the Long Parliament for the propagation of the Gospel in New England. A collection for the object having been made in every parish, a large sum was realized in consequence. With this money certain lands were purchased of Colonel Beddingfield, a Roman Catholic Royalist, the annual proceeds of which were to be devoted to the mission. But after the Restoration, the Colonel seized back the property for his own use, and it was only after legal proceedings,—in which Clarendon, as Lord Chancellor, behaved most equitably,—that it was recovered by the trustees. Charles II. granted the Society a new Charter of Incorporation, of which Robert Boyle became president; and Mr. Ashurst, an influential and pious citizen, and alderman of London, who had been treasurer before, reaccepted that important post. Richard Baxter took an active part in the proceedings at home, and John Eliot, a missionary to the Indians, carried on its operations abroad. Letters are preserved which passed between the illustrious Divine and the illustrious Evangelist, and from one written by the former we learn that, although, from reasons connected with the peculiar character of the times, numbers were unwilling to leave England just then to embark in this new expedition of religious zeal, many would have been glad to have gone amongst “Persians, Tartarians, and Indians,” to preach the Gospel, had they but understood the language. Hints respecting universal language—a dream which occupied the thoughts of Wilkins, the Bishop of Chester, and inspired George Dalgarno’s Ars Signorum—occur in Eliot’s letters, showing that he leaned towards the Hebrew tongue as the all-comprehensive vehicle of instruction—the tongue which, he said, will be spoken in heaven, and which, by its “trigramical foundation,” is “capable of a regular expatiation into millions of words, no language like it.” Baxter was strongly excited by the deplorable destitution of the Gospel, but it inspired more of despair than of hope; it paralyzed rather than stimulated effort. “He that surveyeth the present state of the earth, and considereth, that scarcely a sixth part is Christian, and how small a part of them are reformed, and how small a part of them have much of the power of godliness, will be ready to think that Christ hath called almost all His chosen, and is ready to forsake the earth, rather than that He intendeth us such blessed days below as we desire. We shall have what we would, but not in this world.”[359] There are also several letters from Eliot to Boyle, written with touching simplicity—reports, in fact, of the missionary work in New England—in which the apostle to the Indians addresses the President of the Society as a right honourable, deeply learned, abundantly charitable, and constant, nursing father.[360]

Boyle devoted to the New England mission, £300 a year during his life, and, by his will, bequeathed a legacy of £100; and although several persons of distinction were nominally connected with the scheme, he was its moving-spring, its power and life. The meetings for the transaction of its affairs, which he commonly attended, were held at Alderman Ashurst’s residence in London—the first board of foreign missions in Protestant England, and the first mission-house of that kind in its enterprising metropolis. Missionary operations on a much larger scale were commenced after the Revolution.

XIII. I have recorded several incidents which occurred in the Universities. Nothing like a history of those great institutions comes within the purpose of this work, nor is there any need to describe their state after the Restoration, as in former volumes I described it before that event:—because, during the Commonwealth, the Universities were extraordinarily circumstanced, but at the Restoration they returned to their normal condition, in which they have continued ever since. A few notices, however, indicative of the studies and habits of the members, may be appropriately included within this chapter.

Sancroft conveys an unfavourable impression of the state of things at Cambridge in the year 1663:—“It would grieve you to hear of our public examinations; the Hebrew and Greek learning being out of fashion everywhere, and especially in the other Colleges, where we are forced to seek our candidates for fellowships; and the rational learning they pretend to, being neither the old philosophy, nor steadily any one of the new. In fine, though I must do the present society right, and say, that divers of them are very good scholars, and orthodox (I believe) and dutiful both to King and Church; yet methinks I find not that old genius and spirit of learning generally in the College that made it once so deservedly famous; nor shall I hope to retrieve it any way sooner, than by your directions who lived here in the most flourishing times of it.”[361]

Not only would the transition from Puritan to Anglican occasion inconvenience, but a transition also occurred from the study of the old to the study of the new philosophy,—from Aristotle to Plato, and from the pursuit of metaphysics to the investigation of physical science. Lucas founded a professorship of Mathematics in the year 1663, to which office Barrow was the first appointed, and in his inaugural address, he eulogizes that department of knowledge which he was about to teach.[362]

Another great change at Cambridge, consequent upon the Restoration, is seen in the decline of Calvinistic theology, the return of Anglican opinions, and especially the progress of the Latitudinarian schools of Divinity, described in a subsequent portion of this work. Turning to less important matters, it may be observed that Royal mandates became too common, and provoked refusals from the College authorities. Dr. Cudworth, Master of Christ’s, politely apologized for declining an order for the election of a son of Sir Richard Fanshaw, as a Fellow, pleading that “since the Restoration, their little College had received and obeyed ten Royal letters; and even received a manciple imposed by letter, though it was a thing never known before.” “When mandates are so plentifully granted they cannot possibly be all obeyed.”[363] North set himself decidedly against these mandates, as most mischievous abuses, and contrived by pre-elections to obviate their occurrence. “Out of the several years, four or five one under another, he caused to be pre-elected into fellowships scholars of the best capacities in the several years; which made it improbable another election should come about in so many years then next ensuing, for until all these elections were benefited there could be no vacancy, and that broke the course of mandates whilst he lived.” North was a High Tory, an advocate of absolute monarchy, a severe disciplinarian, and an austere man in his personal habits. Although his opinions accorded with those prevalent in the University, his conduct as the Head of a College made him unpopular; and it happened, one evening,—when sitting in his dining-room by the fire, the chimney being opposite to the windows, looking out into the great quadrangle,—that a stone was sent from the court through the window. He was “inwardly vexed, and soon after, the discourse fell upon the subject of people’s kicking against their superiors in government, who preserves them as children are preserved by parents; and then he had a scroll of instances, out of Greek history, to the same purpose, concluding that no conscientious magistrate can be popular, but in lieu of that, he must arm himself with equanimity.” He differed at times from the senior fellows, and at a meeting for business, when eight of them had determined to have their own way, and carry a point on which they had previously agreed, one of them attempted to effect his object by saying, “Master, since you will not agree, we must rise, and break up the meeting.” “Nay,” he replied, “that you shall not do, for I myself will rise and be gone first.”[364] This brought them round. The relation of such an incident gives an idea of the High Church Don at Cambridge much better than any general description, and throws amusing light on the social life of the University.

The election of a new Chancellor was then, as it generally is, an exciting event for the University men, and every kind of influence was brought to bear upon the success of the respective competitors. In 1671, the Duke of Buckingham entered into a contest with the Earl of Arlington, for the enjoyment of the honour, and obtained the prize; Williamson, the Secretary of State, having without effect canvassed on the opposite side. Leading men apologized to him for not supporting his candidate, of which an instance appears in the following communication:—

There are other letters amongst the State Papers on the same subject, including one from Dr. Cudworth, to Williamson, excusing himself for supporting the Duke instead of the Earl.

Charles II. visited Cambridge on the 4th of October in the same year, and the whole body of students wearing academical habits, according to their several degrees, lined the streets as His Majesty visited the various buildings. He was received by the new Chancellor and the other authorities, who presented him with a “fair Bible,” accompanied by a short speech from the public orator. The King visited the University’s libraries and the Colleges of Trinity and St. John, and after dining at Trinity he saw a comedy acted there, with which he expressed himself well pleased.[365] In 1674, the Duke of Monmouth succeeded the Duke of Buckingham in the Chancellorship, and in that year we find the former sending a curious communication to the Eastern University.

By His Majesty’s desire he noticed the liberty which several persons in holy orders had taken to wear their own hair and perukes of an unusual and unbecoming length, and rebuked them for it, strictly enjoining that all such, who professed the study of Divinity, should wear their hair in a manner more suitable to the gravity and sobriety of their profession. He also blamed them in His Majesty’s name for reading sermons, and commanded that preaching from MS., which took a beginning with the disorders of the late times, should be wholly laid aside, and that preachers should deliver their sermons, both in Latin and English, by memory or without book, as being a way of preaching which His Majesty judged most agreeable to the use of all foreign Churches, to the former custom of the University, and the nature and intention of the holy exercise itself.[366] These injunctions were anticipated at Oxford, where James, Duke of Ormond, continued Chancellor from 1669 to 1688.

“It is not long since,” writes Dr. Ralph Bathurst, President of Trinity, “we had notice of the Duke of Monmouth’s letter, written by His Majesty’s command, to the University of Cambridge, against long hair and the reading of sermons. It was here thought advisable to obviate the like reproof to ourselves, by an early compliance with His Majesty’s desires, though we think ourselves much more blameless than they, especially in the last particular. To this end, I have this day published a programme, the copy whereof I have made bold to send you.”[367]

With this amusing insight into academic life, may be coupled another of earlier date. Williamson, Secretary of State, presented to Queen’s College, a silver trumpet and two pairs of banners. Thanks were returned by Dr. Thomas Barlow, in the name of the Society, and the gift was described as “most welcome, not only for its cost and curiosity, but for its congruity to them who by statute are to be called to dinner with a trumpet, though fitter for him to give than for a poor College to receive, to call them to a mess of pottage and twopenny commons. It will be used on all solemn days, but at other times their old brass trumpet will serve the turn.” In another letter, it is remarked, “The Provost, and all the company, highly extol them, and are very grateful for them. The trumpet was long sounded in the quadrangle, wine was drunk through the hall, and venison pasties were at every table, there being a whole buck from Lady Foster, of Aldermaston,” besides Williamson’s from Woodstock.[368] Old Christmas and Candlemas customs were revived, and the senior undergraduates amused themselves at night before the charcoal fires by bringing in the freshmen, and making them “sit down on a form in the middle of the hall, joining to the declaimer’s desk,”—where they were required to “speak some pretty apothegm, or make a jest or bull;” and if the thing were not done cleverly, the unhappy wight was punished by the seniors, who would “tuck him—that is set the nail of their thumb to his chin, just under the lip, and by the help of their other fingers under the chin, they would give him a mark which sometimes would produce blood.”[369] A picturesque usage occurred on Holy Thursday, when the Fellows of New College walked to Bartholomew’s Hospital, which was decked with fruit for the occasion, and then, after reading the Scriptures, and the singing of hymns, they offered silver to be divided amongst poor men; then they proceeded to Stockwell, where, after reading the epistle and gospel for the day, the Fellows in “the open place, like the ancient Druids, echoed and warbled out from the shady arbours, melodious melody, consisting of several parts, then most in fashion.”[370]

The conduct of persons who from time to time acted the part of Terræ filius, had been complained of under the Commonwealth; it continued to be complained of after the Restoration. The excesses into which these lawless students were wont to run, with other corresponding extravagances, appear to have reached their greatest height in 1669, at the opening of the Sheldon theatre. South once, as University orator, delivered a long oration, in which he satirically inveighed against Cromwell, the Fanatics, the Royal Society, and the new philosophy:—and then pronounced encomiums upon the Archbishop, the building, the Vice-Chancellor, the Architect, and the Decorator, concluding with execrations, cast upon Fanatics, Conventicles, and Comprehension, “damning them ad inferos, ad Gehennam.” At the same Commemoration, the Terræ filius gave so general offence, that Dr. Wallis says: “I believe the University hath thereby lost more reputation than they have gained by all the rest.” “The excellent Lady,” he adds, “which your letter mentions, was, in the broadest language represented as guilty of those crimes, of which, if there were occasion, you would not stick to be her compurgator.”[371]

Complaints of the same kind were made years afterwards. The Bishop of Oxford, writing December 14, 1684, complains:—“The Terræ filii in this place have of late taken to themselves such licenses as were altogether intolerable, their scurrilous discourses passing not only the bounds of decency but of common humanity, so that it was necessary for the University to oppose sharp remedies to so prevailing an evil.”[372]

Within eighteen months of the date of the Oxford decree for burning the books of Milton and others, there occurred another Act conceived in the same spirit. Lord Sunderland wrote to the Bishop of Oxford, Dr. John Fell, complaining of John Locke,—“He being,” remarks the Bishop in reply, “as your Lordship is truly informed, a person who was much trusted by the late Earl of Shaftesbury, and who is suspected to be ill-affected to the Government, I have for divers years had an eye upon him, but so close has his guard been on himself, that after several strict inquiries, I may confidently affirm that there is not any man in the College, however familiar with him, who has heard him speak a word either against, or so much as concerning the Government.” Yet, although Locke was so extremely cautious, the Bishop professed the greatest zeal in seeking his expulsion, and, after describing what he himself meant to do, adds: “If this method seem not effectual or speedy enough, and His Majesty, our founder and visitor, shall please to command his immediate remove, upon the receipt thereof, directed to the Dean and Chapter, it shall accordingly be executed.” A warrant, immediately despatched by Sunderland, signified the King’s pleasure, that John Locke should be removed from his student’s place, to which the Bishop obsequiously replied: “I hold myself bound in duty to signify to your Lordship that His Majesty’s command for the expulsion of Mr. Locke from this College is fully executed.”[373] This disgraceful deed originated, it is true, with the Sovereign, but the part taken by the Bishop, and the Dean and Chapter of Christchurch, with the silent acquiescence of the University, demonstrates what must have been the political and ecclesiastical atmosphere of the place at that time.

We here terminate these somewhat rambling notices of the ecclesiastical, the religious, and the academic life of the period; and proceed to notice, in the next chapter, a very important subject connected with the state of the English Churches, which has not received from historians the attention it requires.