THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES BY THE SAME AUTHOR. A HISTORY OF THE PAPACY FROM THE GREAT SCHISM TO THE SACK OF ROME, 1378-1527. 6 vols. Crown 8vo, $s. net each. QUEEN ELIZABETH. With Portrait. Crown 8vo, $s. net. HISTORICAL ESSAYS AND REVIEWS. Crown 8vo, 55-. net. UNIVERSITY AND OTHER SERMONS. Crown 8vo, 5.1. net. PERSECUTION AND TOLERANCE : Being the Hul- sean Lectures, 1893-4. Crown 8vo, 4^. 6d. THE CHURCH AND THE NATION: Charges and Addresses. Crown 8vo, $s. net THE MIND OF ST. PETER AND OTHER SER- MONS. Crown 8vo, 35. 6d. net. THOUGHTS ON EDUCATION : Speeches and Ser- mons. Crown 8vo, $s. net. MEMOIR OF SIR GEORGE GREY, BART., G.C.B., 1799-1882. With 3 Portraits. Crown 8vo, 61. net. CARLISLE. Crown Svo, y. 6d. (Historic Towns.) THE AGE OF ELIZABETH. With 5 Maps and Genea- logical Tables. Fcap. Svo, zs. 6d. (Epochs of Modern History. ) SIMON DE MONTFORT. Fcap. Svo, vs. 6d. (Histori- cal Biographies. ) LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO., LONDON, NEW YORK AND BOMBAY. HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES MANDELL CREIGHTON, D.D., D.C.L., LL.D., ETC. SOMETIME BISHOP OF LONDON EDITED BY LOUISE CREIGHTON SECOND IMPRESSION LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON NEW YORK AND BOMBAY 1904 College Library; TO HIS OLD PUPILS I DEDICATE THIS BOOK IN THE HOPE THAT IT MAY SPEAK TO THEM WITH HIS VOICE, AND THAT HISTORY MAY BE TO THEM AS IT WAS TO HIM A LIVING STUDY, GIVING TO THEM ALSO NOT ONLY REVERENCE FOR THE PAST BUT GUIDANCE FOR THE FUTURE. 1119408 PREFACE OF the lectures in this volume those on Saint Edward the Confessor, the Picturesque in History, Heroes, and Elizabethan London have already appeared in the Cornhill Magazine, and I have to thank the Editor for kind permission to reprint them here. I have also to express my thanks to the Syndics of the Cambridge University Press, to the Curators of the Oxford University Chest, and to the Rev. Dr. A. J. Mason and the Rev. Professor W. E. Collins, for kind permissions to include in this volume the Rede lecture, the Romanes lecture, and the lecture on Laud's Position in the History of the Church of England. The two former were published at the time of their delivery, and the latter appeared in the volume issued for the Archbishop Laud Commemora- tion. The other lectures have never been published, Those on the Friars, Bishop b viii PREFACE Grosseteste and his Times, the English Church in the Time of Elizabeth and the Study of a Country are printed from the reporter's notes as they were delivered. Though naturally less finished productions than the others, they give a very good idea of Dr. Creighton's manner of popular lecturing. His inaugural lecture as Dixie Professor of Ecclesiastical History, which is here printed for the first time, shows what history meant to him, and what he tried to make it mean to others. To him its living interest lay in the fact that he saw everywhere when he looked into the past " the working of great elemental forces, which are common to human society at all times ". What he cared to note in every age, whether past or present, was "the thing that was accomplished, the ideas which clothed themselves with power". LOUISE CREIGHTON. CONTENTS PAGE THE TEACHING OF ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY i THE CONGREGATIONALISTS 2Q THE BAPTISTS 48 THE COMING OF THE FRIARS 69 ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI 84 THE INFLUENCE OF THE FRIARS 98 BISHOP GROSSETESTE AND HIS TIMES, IST LECTURE . . 116 2ND LECTURE . . 124 ,, ,, SRD LECTURE . . 136 THE ENGLISH CHURCH IN THE REIGN OF ELIZABETH . . 149 LAUD'S POSITION IN THE HISTORY OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND 164 THE EARLY RENAISSANCE IN ENGLAND ..... 188 THE ENGLISH NATIONAL CHARACTER 213 SAINT EDWARD THE CONFESSOR ...... 241 THE PICTURESQUE IN HISTORY 261 THE STUDY OF A COUNTRY 285 HEROES 305 ELIZABETHAN LONDON , . , . , . , 324 THE TEACHING OF ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY. INAUGURAL LECTURE AS DIXIE PROFESSOR OF ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY. 1 THE most agreeable part of an inaugural address under ordinary circumstances is that in which a new professor pays a well-merited compliment to him whom he succeeds. No task can be more pleasant than a retrospect of past progress, a careful apprecia- tion of the results of a careful method, an enumeration of the fruits of a life of study and a picture of its quickening influence upon the lives of others. Such a survey is gratifying to all, for it serves in some degree as a measure of the contribution of the Uni- versity to the advancement of human knowledge. It is above all things useful to one who is beginning his labours as a teacher, for it enables him to estimate soberly the ground which has been already occupied, and to mark out the lines along which he proposes to advance. In my own case such a survey is impossible. The thought that I am the first occupant of this Chair gives me an increased feeling of responsibility, because 1 Given at Cambridge on 23rd January, 1885. I 2 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES there is no one in whose steps I can claim to follow, or whose work I can profess to carry on. But though I have no direct predecessor in this Chair, I have great traditions in this University to guide me. Cambridge in our own day has fostered a school of theologians who are strong in the use of the historical method. I will not attempt a survey of their labours, but will only say that they have done much to substitute for unprofitable controversy a fruitful search for truth. They have set themselves soberly and steadfastly to sift the evidence of Christian antiquity. They have gone far to dispel difficulties and to settle problems by reducing them to definite proportions, by regarding them in strict reference to the circumstances which gave them birth. The traditions of theological teach- ing have been thoroughly leavened by the historic spirit. So far as regards the origins of the Christian Church, its organisation, its doctrines, its rites, its liturgies, the existing staff of teachers need no further help. They are all historians within their several spheres. Theology has become historical and does not demand that history should become theological. I think, therefore, that I am not merely following the direction of my own studies, but am also con- sulting the needs of the teaching of the University, if I say that I do not at present purpose to turn my attention to the earliest period of the history of the Church. I think that I should be doing a more useful work if I tried to carry on the subject to later times, and aimed at kindling a greater interest in the nature and influence of the ecclesiastical organisation when considered as a factor in European civilisation. I TEACHING OF ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY 3 should like to work from the historical rather than from the theological side. I should like to chronicle the actual achievements of the Church and follow the record of its activity through the changes of time. It has long seemed to me that England has contri- buted unduly little towards this important branch of historical study. Many reasons may be assigned for this. Foremost among them is the fact that the peculiar character of the English Reformation tended to narrow English interests and to isolate English thought. When once the severance from the Roman Church had been accomplished, Englishmen did not care to look back upon centuries of decadence and corruption. Attention was almost exclusively given to the history of the primitive Church and the writings of the Early Fathers. From these alone were materials drawn for the controversy with Rome. The Bible and primitive antiquity were the foundations on which the English Church claimed to be built. It rejected the authority of the Bishops of Rome and passed over in disdain the period in which that authority had been recognised. When the Romish controversy ceased, the controversy with Nonconformity took its place, and was conducted with the same weapons and by the same evidence. As against the Church of Rome, the Church of England insisted that what she had discarded was discarded because it was without suffi- cient warrant of Scripture or primitive usage. Against the Nonconformists, the Church of England insisted that what she retained was retained because it had sufficient warrant. Neither of these lines of con- troversy led to historical investigation beyond the i * 4 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES limits of early times. The very title " ecclesiastical history " till recent years suggested to the ordinary hearer only the history of the first five Christian centuries. Moreover, little need was felt of history for the pur- pose of dealing with the internal organisation of the Church. The English Reformation in one sense did not go nearly far enough. The Roman jurisdiction had broken down the machinery of the Church, had destroyed its organisation for self-government. The Roman jurisdiction was swept away, but the disordered machinery was left unamended. Questions affecting the fundamental basis of the English Church were eagerly discussed and zealously maintained by skilful disputants, while its internal organisation was never de- finitely settled. The union between Church and State depended on mutual alliance against those who were supposed to be common foes. Not until the present century, when the State had gradually given equal rights to all its citizens without distinction of religious belief, did the question of its relations to the Church become serious. Historical learning was then hastily enrolled in the service of preconceived theories, and a fitful glamour was thrown over an uncertain past. The facts brought to light by the Ecclesiastical Courts Commission were almost entirely forgotten. Again, the national life of England has in modern times given the Englishman strong political instincts of a decidedly practical kind. He has been concerned with problems as they arose, and he has dealt with them as they presented themselves before him. The Englishman studied history, if he studied it at all, to find in it TEACHING OF ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY 5 guidance for a definite purpose. The study of war- like glories in the past was always popular, for it was an encouragement of national aspiration in the pre- sent and the ground of hope for the future. The outburst of strong national feeling which marked the sixteenth century made men forgetful of an older England which counted itself as a member of the great Commonwealth of Christendom, of which inti- mate union the unity of ecclesiastical organisation was the symbol and the warrant. The records of the activity of the Mediaeval Church were left to the same fate as the ruins of the mediaeval monasteries. The memory alone remained of the abuses which had led to violent reform. The centuries of beneficent use- fulness were forgotten. The whole life of the past was misunderstood, because the action of the chief power which moved it was neglected or misrepre- sented. Only in recent times has the importance of the ecclesiastical side of mediaeval history been recognised. Perhaps the study of ecclesiastical history is still looked upon with some suspicion. It is considered as likely to be adverse to secular history, as having a tendency to exalt the Church, to revive obsolete prin- ciples, and awaken controversies which had better be allowed to rest. One point cannot be too clearly stated, though it is almost superfluous to state it ; that science knows no difference of methods, and that ecclesiastical history must be pursued in exactly the same way, and with exactly the same spirit as any other branch of history. The aim of the investigator is simply the discovery of truth. Ecclesiastical history 6 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES is precisely like constitutional history or economic history : it deals primarily with one aspect of the time, but it deals with it in a spirit of absolutely free inquiry and entire independence of judgment. It is true that ecclesiastical partisanship is strong in many cases ; but I am not sure that it is stronger in distorting the truth than is political partisanship. It is true that very different estimates are formed of the characters and aims of such men as Anselm, Becket or Laud ; but men are not agreed about Cleon or the Gracchi or Caius Julius Caesar. It is true that different minds have different conceptions of the pro- gress of the Church ; but there are different concep- tions of the progress of secular affairs. In fact all differences of historical judgment resolve themselves into differences of the conception of progress. His- torians mainly differ according as their conception of progress is historical or political. By a political conception I mean one which is directly derived from the political movements or political theories of the present day, which takes as its starting-point ideas which are now prevalent, or problems which are now pressing for solution. According to this view the student of history knows exactly what he wants to find in the past. He wishes to trace the development of the principles which he himself holds and which he believes to be destined to success. To him the past was a failure so far as it did not follow those prin- ciples. He turns from the main current of events to seek out streams of tendencies which were to swell till their flood prevailed. He looks for those in the past who were like-minded with himself, and makes TEACHING OF ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY 7 them the prominent figures in his picture. He has no doubt that the perspective of the present is the true perspective, and draws the sketch according to its rules. The historical conception of progress is founded on historical experience of the evolution of human affairs. Its object is to understand the past as a whole, to note in every age the thing that was accomplished, the ideas which clothed themselves with power. It tries to estimate these in reference to the times in which they occurred. It knows no special sympathies, for it sees everywhere the working of great elemental forces which are common to human society at all times. It strives to weigh the problems of the past in their actual relations to their times ; it tries to strip them of their accidental forms and show their fundamental con- nexion not merely with present ideas but with the process of man's development. Thucydides in one sense was mistaken in supposing that the events which he recorded were likely to occur again in such or similar shape. Greek life admitted of no second Peloponnesian War. Yet we still turn to his pages for instruction in the nature of the enduring conflict of man with his surroundings, of the struggles be- tween the different organisations which political socie- ties from time to time invent. I will not defend, but will only state my own preference for the historical rather than the political view of progress. I turn to the past to learn its story without any preconceived opinion what that story may be. I do not assume that one period or one line of study is more instructive than another, but I am ready 8 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES to recognise the real identity of man's aspiration at all times. Some episodes in history are regarded as pro- foundly modern ; others are dismissed contemptu- ously as concerned with trifles. In some ages there are great heroes, in others the actors are sunk in in- dolence and sloth. For my own part I do not recog- nise this great distinction. Men's minds were always active. Great struggles were always going on. Great principles were always at stake. At some periods it takes more care and patience to discern them than at others. In some periods they set all Europe in a blaze, at other times they were mooted in a corner. I am not sure that for the purposes of study the smaller scale does not present the problem more intelligibly. I am by no means certain that what are called the great periods of history are most full of instruction to the beginner. It must, however, be admitted that ecclesiastical history lends itself more easily than any other branch of history to what I have called the political mode of treatment. This is inevitable from the nature of the subject. The Christian lives by faith. He believes that the teaching of the Gospel, which it is the work of the Church to spread, is divinely appointed to trans- form the world. His belief in the power of the ideas which the Church teaches, passes on to a belief in the organisation by means of which they have been taught. Partisanship gathers round the very name of the Church ; and men strive to trace an ideal unity for the system to which they themselves adhere. The belief in the power of the Gospel to transform the world leads men to demand in all periods of history, TEACHING OF ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY 9 definite proofs of its influence. They ask that its in- fluence should have been exerted as they wish to see it exerted in the questions of the present day. Con- sequently some set to work to show that the work of the Church was continuous and was always advancing on its own lines amidst various untoward conditions. Others denounce the organisation of the Church in the past as hopelessly corrupt, because it did not produce the results which they demand from it at present. If ecclesiastical history is to be studied historically all such preconceived opinions must be dismissed. The Church and the world must be studied together, in their mutual relations. All forms in which the ideas of Christianity clothed themselves must be regarded as equally important. The question about them all is the same, what influence did they exercise on man's civilisation ? The Church must always be regarded as a factor in the history of man's develop- ment It did not always work for the same ends : it was affected by the society around it : its zeal, its purity wavered at different times. I think that even in its worst times it did not cease to uphold a standard of Christian principles, and keep alive whatever purity of heart remained. When I say that ecclesiastical history must be studied in the same way as secular history, I do not mean that the student must lay aside the belief in a Divine purpose accomplishing itself by human means. All history alike teaches that. For this very reason greater care is necessary to discover the truth. The more the study is ap- proached with a spirit of reverence and seriousness, the less danger there ought to be of partial judgments io HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES and the blindness of partisanship. The more we appreciate the greatness of the issues, the more care ought we to take in considering them fully, in pausing before we condemn, in exercising sobriety. I will notice a few points of detail in which the study of ecclesiastical history seems to offer peculiar difficulties to the temper of the student. First of all it particularly lends itself to a kind of picturesque and flippant treatment, for it has the elements of satire readily at hand. To one who looks at the matter from an outside point of view, the work of the Church, the lives of Churchmen, easily invite ridicule. It is easy to point to the failure of the organisation of the Church to embody for its own guidance the principles which it tries to enforce on others. It is easy to col- lect examples of the difference between the lives of Churchmen and their professions, the perversion of Scriptural phrases to ungodly purposes, the assertion of a worldly power for a kingdom which is not of this world. There is truth in all this and the error lies only in exaggeration. The perpetual contrast between endeavour and attainment is the central feeling in- spired by the great drama of human affairs. All history is deeply tragic ; it tells a ceaseless tale of failure, sacrifice and sorrow. It sets forth the small- ness, the shortsightedness, the inadequacy of man to deal with the problems with which his path is strewn. The sense of pain is rarely absent from the generous mind which follows the record of man's changes. All this is true. Still feeling, however righteous in itself, cannot be given the chief place in a study which claims in any way to be scientific. Yet it lies so near the TEACHING OF ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY n surface of the reader's heart that it can be appealed to at any moment and is relieved by the appeal. This nearness of emotion supplies a dangerous rhetorical weapon which it is easy to wield in accordance with preconceived opinions. Moral indignation is skilfully enlisted on one side only, and a partial standard of judgment is applied. It is easier to point out this danger than to say how it can be avoided. We cannot altogether omit moral judgment without degrading the subject and losing the sense of its real issues. Especially in ecclesiastical matters ought our moral standard to be lofty. All that we can do is to apply it impartially, and regulate our judgment fairly by a view of all the conditions of the time. Generally this method leaves us a sense of disappointment. Heroes are dwarfed and great events seem robbed of their greatness. It is hard to admit that if we cannot level up, fairness demands that we should level down. But this is the first part of a process which will lead to the discovery of deeper truths. Better than hero- worship is the discovery of great principles. If truth requires us to admit grave defects and serious errors, let us then in all charity attempt to discover what good remains. The history of the Church too often tells the story of human imperfection and frailty of the passionate pursuit of unworthy or trivial ends. This ought not to turn our eyes from the good which was mingled with the ill, or make us forget that the good, whether great or small, would not be fostered by any other means. I turn to another point. Ecclesiastical history is necessarily concerned with the growth of opinions ; iz HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES and the process of tracing the application of ideas and their gradual spread is one which admits of great latitude. There is a temptation to exaggerate the importance of opinions which seem to agree with our own, and to claim for them an occult influence ex- tending through ages. It seems to me that on such a point especially we cannot too resolutely stand on the requirement of actual proof. The question that history asks about opinions is simply, how far did they influence events? A man's utterances are valuable historically, for the effect which they produced when they were uttered, for the meaning which they had at that time. It is one thing to believe fervently that truth never dies, and that noble ideas are always fruitful. It is another thing to elevate these ethical convictions into principles which are of themselves enough to explain the growth of human affairs. History requires an apparent con- nexion, an organised arrangement of events: otherwise it is a shapeless and unintelligible record. But this connexion is one that runs on continuously through the ages, and ought to be made manifest by the move- ment of events themselves. The same truths, the same ideas are repeated age after age, when the same sort of difficulty is before men's minds. Again, ecclesiastical history has suffered as a science because it affords the materials for so many biographies. The lives of isolated individuals are profitable for edification, and thereby they are unduly exalted into historical personages. A hero is immediately created and when once a hero has gained a hold upon the popular imagination, it is an ungrateful task to try TEACHING OF ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY 13 and remove him from his pedestal. It is often found easier to construct for him an ornamental niche and treat him with outward marks of deference. Per- haps nothing is more capricious than the selection of worthies who are supposed to have prepared the way for the Reformation. The continuous effort for the reform of ecclesiastical abuses is one of the chief features of mediaeval history. The attempt was made in various ways and was supported by various argu- ments. The prevalence of corruption was acknow- ledged by all serious men ; the extent of the corrup- tion was exposed often in exaggerated language ; the causes of the corruption were fearlessly attacked. It is hard to see in some cases the line which distin- guishes those who are exalted as reformers from those who are passed by unnoticed. The tendency of an age as a whole is frequently misrepresented through a desire to elevate unduly some prominent figure into a prophet of the future. I pass on to consider the general bearings of the subject of ecclesiastical history. If we regard the course of events since the first appearance of Christianity as an organised system in the world, we see how large, how very large a part it has played in history. In the decline of the Roman ' world, Christianity was the only influence which bound society together, and afforded the only possible basis for a reorganisation of the imperial system. When the decline of population and energy within the bor- ders of the Empire invited the settlements of the German tribes, the fortunes of those tribes depended upon their power of assimilating the principles, and i 4 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES respecting the organisation, of the Christian Church. Christianity preserved all that was preserved of old civilisation, and preserved all that was preserved of the simpler life and manners of the new peoples. The Church was strong when nothing else was strong. It moulded the ideas, and gave a pattern of the political system, on which Europe was slowly built up. Christianity became for centuries the bulwark of Europe against invasion from the East. When the wanderings of the peoples were over, it was chiefly the industry of Churchmen which brought the wasted land under cultivation, and opened up the beginnings of industrial life. The Church was the guardian of knowledge, the only source of education. The need of preserving some sort of order had led to a system of social organisation in which the freedom of the individual was more and more disregarded. The Church afforded the only escape from the grinding tyranny of feudalism. Churchmen may appear selfish or arrogant in the history of the Middle Ages, but the objects for which they strove were not entirely concerned with the elevation of their own order. The Church had no military force to support her. She was strong only in the moral force which is given by popular approbation. Her voice was effectual only so far as it was re-echoed by popular opinion. Her penalties were enforced only where their justice was recognised. With all its defects the Mediaeval Church uttered the only possible protest against the tyranny of an unruly oligarchy. Beneath the protection of the Church the people became conscious of their strength. But in the course of this struggle against TEACHING OF ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY 15 oppression, the organisation of the Church itself had grown monarchical ; and an organisation which might be useful in time of conflict was destructive when the battle was over. " Rome only you will have, and Rome will destroy you," was a prophecy early made ; to the English Bishops. The authority of the Pope was a useful refuge against the overweening power of the King and lords. But the Papacy, which had grown strong as the defence of the Church, undertook its entire government, and so ran counter to the rising spirit of national consciousness. It was in opposition to the claims of the Papacy that the theories of the modern state were first distinctly formulated. But political theories could afford no practical remedy till the foundations of the ecclesiastical system were shaken by a doctrinal revolt. The theology of the Middle Ages was a massive structure which might well enthral men's minds. Proceeding on a method of deduction, it gave scope for bold speculation, while it slowly built up a powerful system which seemed impregnable. But the rise of the New Learning turned men's minds to new fields of discovery. Theo- logy was no longer the only important science, and the criticism which was at first applied to other sub- jects was carried to the foundation of theology itself. Ecclesiastical history is concerned with the ideas round which mediaeval civilisation centred, and from which modern ideas took their rise. It is not too much to say that till the end of the seventeenth cen- tury, ecclesiastical history is the surest guide to the comprehension of European history as a whole. After a long period of religious conflict the State asserted 16 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES its unity and supremacy on principles which were independent of the Church. After a long period of criticism, science advanced to the investigation of the universe with a new method of induction. Christianity did not lose by this revolution, but history no longer centred round the organisation of the Church. The 1 spirit of the Gospel perhaps became a more powerful influence in society when the claims of an authoritative explanation of its letter to mould civil society were put aside. In the study of history of any kind one caution is necessary. A study which has for its subject-matter the experience of the past must beware of seeking too direct results. The aim of all study is the education in method. It ought to develop the power of observa- tion rather than supply opinions. It ought to fit the student to discern between what is plausible and what is true. The aim of the study of history should be the formation of a right judgment on the great issues of human affairs. The work of the present is carried on perforce amid the tumult of conflicting opinions. When we stand aside and watch for a moment, it is almost painful to observe on what a scanty fund of real knowledge the strongest and most decided opinions are accepted and upheld. The study of history can give no mathematical certainty, but it can create a sober temper, which is the basis of all true wisdom. It can give a sense of the largeness of problems, of their complexity, of the dangers of overhaste, of the limits of man's power over his surroundings. The study of history rightly pursued ought to be the most useful means of forming a capacity for dealing with TEACHING OF ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY 17 affairs. It shows us great ideas prevailing at all times ; it shows us repeated failure to give these ideas effect ; it shows the conditions under which these ideas in- fluenced political action ; it shows us seeming triumphs which ended only in disaster ; it enables us to judge of the qualities which led to permanent achievements ; it points out the nature and limits of man's foresight. These are the important lessons of history, and they are lessons which may be learned from any period, and from any field of man's activity. For my own part, I think that they are best learned in periods which do not challenge direct comparison with the present. We are calmer and more impartial when the conditions of the problem are somewhat remote, when there is no danger of awakening our own feel- ings of partisanship, when we are not misled by similarity of names and terms which we have adopted as our own. I have said more than enough on these general topics. How is this study of ecclesiastical history to be promoted in this University, for what objects, and by what means ? On this point I, as a stranger, can only speak with imperfect information. I would have preferred not to have spoken at all, but it occurred to me that my inexperience would perhaps enable me to say what otherwise I should not venture to say, and which might be worth saying. The fact that I am unfettered by any positive knowledge of possibilities allows me greater freedom in drawing an ideal picture of the functions which a professor of ecclesiastical history might conceivably discharge. I will express some considerations which have occurred to me. 2 1 8 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES First of all the study of ecclesiastical history is naturally of real importance to those who are prepar- ing for clerical life. The early period is so interwoven with the rise and organisation of the Church that it is indistinguishable from a knowledge of theology. But beyond this, the development of the ecclesiastical system throughout the Middle Ages has left its traces on the organisation which still exists. The clergy should understand better than they do their own ecclesiastical antiquities. It is surprising how little is known about the history of cathedral establishments, ecclesiastical courts and ecclesiastical officials, or even of such a body as Convocation. Proposals for the re- form of all these institutions are common enough : it is a truism to say that nothing can be wisely re- modelled until the steps by which it came to its exist- ing form are fully understood. Much misapprehension exists about ecclesiastical revenues, and the clergy cannot always give accurate information on the sub- ject. But more than this, I think that every clergyman ought to be ready and able to learn the ecclesiastical history of the district in which he labours. It would afford him an excellent means of giving instruction to his people. Great truths are to be taught in many forms, and many valuable lessons are to be learned from the history of places. Simple folk can learn much from things before their eyes. They are in- terested in the place where they have been born and bred, and there are few ancient churches whose fabric would not furnish the text for many instructive ser- mons. Our churches are as a rule our most ancient buildings ; their architecture was influenced by local TEACHING OF ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY 19 circumstances ; their growth tells the story of local progress. Dean Stanley set an excellent example by making Westminster Abbey serve as a record of Eng- land's history to many who before had passed it by with scarcely a glance. In every place where stands an ancient church, it is as full of memories that can be made intelligible to those who dwell beneath its shadow, as is the great Abbey of the Confessor. A little knowledge of history, a little interest in the sub- ject gained in this place, would enable an intelligent man to understand his church wherever it might be. Moreover, the clergy are by virtue of their office the guardians of their churches and the keepers of the re- cords of their parish. It is urged, with some truth, that they have not always shown themselves intelli- gent guardians in the past. It is, I admit, a small part of their duty, but it is none the less a part of it, and it is one which they should be fit to discharge with scrupulous care. Still further, it is well for every clergyman, for the sake of his own mind, to have an interest outside his professional studies. Any one who has felt the burden of parish work will at once admit the necessity of some intellectual pursuit to re- store his mental balance when overborne by details. A taste for ecclesiastical history gives an object for reading which is at once large and ennobling and not alien to his immediate duties. A clergyman sees much and picks up interesting local knowledge as he goes on his daily round of visits. If he has been so far trained as to be capable of appreciating evidence, he may glean much incidentally if his eyes and ears be open. Many valuable records of the past are daily 2 * zo HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES lost because no one understands them. Parochial his- tories, the results of the leisure of busy clergymen, are amongst the valuable contributions to local history. Many of these considerations apply with equal force to laymen as to clergymen. The study of history is popular in this University and will, I trust, grow still more popular. It attracts many young men who have no direct object in studying for a definite literary career, or for professional advancement, but who turn to the subject which has the greatest connexion with life and with affairs. It should be the object of their teaching to give them as large a view as may be given of the general course of history. The end in view is that they should understand their political and social surroundings, that they should have the temper necessary to form a right judgment, and that they should at least know what is the knowledge necessary to make that judgment valuable, and where that knowledge is to be found. For this purpose a study of ecclesiastical history can certainly claim a place. It exhibits a clear continuity of events. It is intimately connected with constitutional and social history, while it is the centre of the history of European thought. Its records in early times are fuller than any others : it is more intimate and more picturesque. It is easier to reconstruct the life of the past round ecclesiastical questions than round any other. It has, moreover, the advantage of readily kindling an interest in local history, which I consider to be a point of great importance in inducing a man of leisure to pursue his studies in later life. My experience has led me to the conclusion that the study of history in the uni- TEACHING OF ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY 21 versities is useful to many different classes of minds. Some use it as a direct training for a political or administrative career, to others it gives an interest for serious reading in the intervals of a busy life ; to others again it has given a genuine interest in their own locality, and has put them in the way of fruitful research. There is yet another class which it should be the special purpose of a university to create. I mean the class of students who devote themselves to the furtherance of knowledge. While we do our ut- most to train young men for active life, we must also aim at fostering learning in every branch. There are few branches of study which open a wider field than does that of ecclesiastical history, and it is a subject which an Englishman of to-day is specially qualified to treat. Much that has been done in the past is disfigured by partisanship. I think that a fair-minded English Churchman at present is more likely to take a large and sympathetic view of past problems, and is more free from those motives which lead to partisanship, than is a writer in any other country. It is in his power to sympathise with every ' form of religious endeavour, for the system to which he holds has elements in common with all. He lives i in a State where religious tolerance is complete, and where no Christian body is regarded as a political danger. He has nothing to uphold which requires him to modify the strict application of the historical method. But the subject has not for those reasons become to him cold and dead. It is no mere question of antiquarianism, but is full of living interest. In the history of Christianity he sees the traces of God's working in the world : he feels the need of setting forth against unbelief the plain unvarnished story of the work which the Church, however hampered by faults or corruptions, has nevertheless been enabled to work in the world. He burns to show how the Church has, through strange vicissitudes, knit together European society in the past, and must be its bond in the future. How that bond can best be made firmer, how the organisation of the Church can best be fitted for its work, these are momentous questions on which the experience of the past may well be consulted with eagerness. The opinions, the organisations of all religious bodies, the successes attending on various manifestations of religious zeal, these are points which demand careful consideration. The relations between Church and State open up an endless field of inquiry and present a problem which has no logical solution, but which each age has solved in its own fashion, and which each age needs wisdom and moderation to solve aright. On all these points and many more than these, Englishmen of to-day look with a singularly impartial spirit. It will be my aim in dealing with them to show no clerical or Anglican bias. Ecclesiastical history is common to all religious bodies, and the time is, I trust, past and gone when any man thinks that he can best defend his own opinions by blacken- ing those who opposed them in the past. Our political life is vigorous enough to enable us to understand that ideas or systems prevail because they meet some pressing need. The essence of fruitful investigation TEACHING OF ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY 23 of the past is to discover how men's wants arose and how they were met. Every system has its place and serves its purpose. No system prevails universally, because no system is large enough to supply all needs. We look to the growth of a wider charity to remedy our evils in the future. It is a first step towards this end to allow the light of that charity to shine upon the past. It remains for me to suggest in what ways it is possible for a professor to help in attaining the objects which I have put before you. The position and work of a professor is by no means easy to define. It is his first duty to represent his subject, to urge its claims on attention, to do what he can to promote its study. But the method by which this result is best to be attained must depend on the relations of that subject to the examinations of the university, and on the re- lation of the professor to other teachers in the same subject. Ecclesiastical history is recognised in the examinations for the theological and the historical triposes. But a glance at the lists of lectures issued by the Boards of Study for those faculties, shows that direct teaching for the subjects of examination is at present adequately supplied by college and university lecturers. It is well that this should be so. Yet, though direct preparation for examinations be left to others, a professor ought to be able to do something even for examination purposes. He may choose por- tions of his subject which are connected with the examinations, and may treat them with greater ful- ness and clearness than a college lecturer would be justified in attempting. Many undergraduates learn 24 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES more from a detailed view of one period than they could learn from a general sketch. A nucleus of in- formation, an insight into method, a grasp of impor- tant principles, these, when once gained in any field, give to many minds a living interest which rapidly spreads, and forms a starting-point for independent work. I am speaking from my own experience. My attention was directed to the study of ecclesiastical history by the fact that I accidentally attended a course of lectures given by Dr. Shirley on the life and works of Anselm. I went in absolute ignorance of mediaeval history, while I was engaged in other reading. Those lectures made the Middle Ages real to me, and gave me a source of interest which I have never since lost. I am of opinion that it should be the ideal of a professor to produce such results. My object then will be to lecture on subjects which are cognate to those recognised in the University ex- aminations, and to treat them as largely and fully as I can. I shall aim at making my lectures a training in historical method and in the temper necessary for historical judgment. I shall hope that a fuller grasp of principles, a fuller experience of the working of in- stitutions, and a familiarity with the sources of history will react upon the general course of reading prescribed for an examination, and will make it more interesting and more life-like. I shall make each course complete and self-contained. I shall try to make no demands on previous knowledge, and to deal with subjects which possess general interest. My reason is that I think the subject of ecclesiastical history is one of general interest, and that it is of great use to students TEACHING OF ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY 25 to wander sometimes outside their own special study, and I would not deter any by an appearance of tech- nical abstruseness. According to my conception the objects which a professor might reasonably set before himself in his lectures are, first, to give a stimulus to those who are reading for examinations, so as to widen and deepen their views ; secondly, to give general instruction in such a way as to bring his subject into greater pro- minence and excite more interest in it. How he is to accomplish these ends must be left to himself. I know that plans are under discussion for the regulation of the number of a professor's lectures. I wish I thought that any such plan was likely to produce good results. In these days of organisation one is ashamed to plead, " Do not organise me : leave me alone ". But a regu- lation about the number of lectures to be given by a professor seems to me to have two dangers. It sup- poses that the great duty of a professor is to lecture, and so may tend to create a view that the most popu- lar lecturer will make the best professor. Moreover, it introduces a numerical standard which confounds quantity with quality. Different subjects differ greatly in the nature of the teaching which they require. Now the study of history does not require much teaching, but it requires good and careful teaching. The great danger to which it is liable is that of cram. The knowledge required for examination is contained in books which are easily accessible and are easily read. The difficulty of the subject lies in its vastness, and in the multitude rather than the complexity of its details. The young student needs to have clearly 26 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES marked out for him the course which he has to follow. He needs a map for his guidance, but he should make his going for himself. Many lectures are a dangerous snare. Instead of reading for himself and thinking for himself a young man runs from lecture to lecture, fills notebook after notebook with jottings which are inaccurate because they were not understood, reads very little and scarcely thinks at all, but tends to learn by rote the contents of his voluminous notebooks for the last few months before his examination. This which is the common danger of all examinations, is especially a danger in the case of history. The books are plain, the subject is not intricate, but the books are many and the subject is large. If the study of history is to be in any way a training for life, it must be because a man has learnt to extract from a number of details what is of permanent importance. If this has been done for him by a series of dictation lessons, he has learned nothing. But these questions of the organisation of professors are for wiser heads than mine to decide. I have already apologised for my boldness in speaking at all. My aims and my opinions are founded upon the best of my present knowledge, and I am ready to change them if cause be shown. Appeals were common in former times from a Pope ill-informed to a Pope who was to be better informed. I rather think that Popes resented that form of appeal. I trust I shall be always ready to receive it with all humility. But there is one consideration of para- mount importance. However widely a professor may spread the net of his lectures for the purpose of giv- TEACHING OF ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY 27 ing an impulse to some, or quickening the interest of others, his ultimate object should be to catch a few who may become genuine students. There is much to be done, much to be investigated, there is room for labourers of almost every kind. In the field of history 1 think that there are some amongst those who go forth from this place who might be encouraged to devote their leisure to work that might be fruitful. The highest result of a professor's labours would be the formation of a small class of those who were willing to prolong their university course, that they might study methods of research, that they might begin some work which would be capable of ex- pansion into a worthy contribution to historical literature. There should be no part of his work more gratifying to himself than that of giving counsel and advice to such students in later years, suggesting subjects, revising their pages for publication, encourag- ing them by all means to persevere. I need not say that for this purpose a professor must be above all things a diligent student himself. Perhaps the most powerful influence that he can exert is the example of a life devoted to the pursuit of knowledge. Nor should he put any narrow limits upon his possibility of usefulness to other students. This great University forms a part of the great commonwealth of letters, and its professors should feel themselves bound to promote literary comity, and be a connecting link between fellow-workers wherever they may be. Many a retiring student labours on in ignorance of what is being done by others, and is glad of information about books or manuscripts, which it should be a professor's task to acquire and disseminate, 28 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES I have spoken more than enough about the ideal which I would wish to keep before me. I am con- scious of my own inadequacy to attain to any part of it. Yet I would wish to live and labour with these objects in view, and the more calls that are made upon my time and care to satisfy any one of them, the better I shall be satisfied. THE CONGREGATIONALISTS. 1 THE object of these addresses is to try and understand the principles on which rest the differences which divide Christian bodies from one another. Our ten- dency, when first we are brought face to face with such differences, is to approach them from the point of view of common-sense, to consider them as contained in so many formulated statements which can be discussed on their own merits. But this attitude is soon found to be superficial. The causes of disagreement lie deeper than the surface. They are interwoven with every part of a man's view of life : they are a portion of his moral and intellectual heritage : they have been handed down to him from the past and appeal to his emotions by the halo of noble tradition with which they are surrounded. English Nonconformity has great memories. All its various forms corresponded to some genuine need of the time in which it arose. Each embodies some great truth which was once over- looked or neglected. Nonconformity can boast its roll of martyrs and confessors : it can point to the record of undoubted services which it rendered to England in times gone by. To understand the principles of Con- gregationalism we must not be content to take them 1 A lecture given in Great St. Mary's Church, Cambridge, in November, 1890, 29 30 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES from the mouth of their modern exponents ; we must consider the conditions which gave them birth. The ecclesiastical revolution of the sixteenth century was profound. The old system of the Church was overgrown by so many abuses that, when it adopted an attitude of stubborn conservatism before the cry for reform, it could not maintain itself at the bar of an awakened and, in some ways an intelligent, public opinion. But the leaders of the revolt found it easier to point out the weaknesses of the old system than to erect a new one in its place ; and the need of satisfying temporary conditions, rather than any clear grasp of principle, dictated the constructive efforts of Luther in Germany. Calvin's strength lay in the fact that he built up a system as strong and as authoritative as had been that which it claimed to replace. But England had no need of Calvin's system. It dealt with its own difficulties in its own characteristic way. It discarded the papal jurisdiction, it removed the accretions of mediaeval theology, it abolished ceremonies which did not tend to edification, but it retained the system and the organisation of the old Church. The practical question to be settled was whether or no such a simple solution of the question was possible. It has always been a tendency of the English mind to dislike specula- tion, to be shy of new ideas, and to imagine that England can settle its own affairs independently of the great currents of thought which agitate the rest of Europe. The success of the Reformation undertaken by Henry VIII. and Cranmer depended on its consistent maintenance during the time when men's minds were fermenting. This was prevented by the alternate THE CONGREGATIONALISTS 31 changes of the reigns of Edward VI. and Mary. Both periods drove a number of exiles on to the Continent, and raised two bodies of uncompromising partisans who introduced into England on the one hand the ideas of Calvin, on the other hand the ideas of the Romanist reaction. The Anglican system, as restored under Elizabeth, no longer corresponded to the wishes of the most fervent minds. It satisfied the bulk of the nation, but there was a fringe on either side who hoped to modify it according to their own preferences. Still neither party wished to divide the Church. Both believed that the unity of the State involved the unity of the Church ; both accepted as an axiom the necessity of a uniform system of ecclesiastical organisation. The influence, however, of Calvinism as a system of Church government was never strong in England. The early Puritans cannot fairly be considered as Calvinists. They rather represented a floating feel- ing of dissatisfaction with the coldness of religious life, and the want of adequate opportunities for the expression of personal devotion and the nurture of personal religion. The Church was ill-supplied with teachers ; sermons were rare ; attendance at church was required by Act of Parliament ; no latitude was allowed. The precarious condition of politics made the establishment of order a paramount necessity of State ; and, unfortunately, religious discussion was held to be dangerous. The rule of the State was, that people might think what they liked, but they must go to church to prove that they were loyal subjects. Further, as discussion led to dissension, 32 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES and as England needed a united front and a resolute bearing to face its manifold foes, discussion was pro- hibited. The intention was not so much to sup- press opinion but to attempt to make the State the arbiter of the limits within which the expression of opinion was permissible. The State was tolerant in so far that it did not aim at enforcing unity, but it demanded a minimum of uniformity, the extent of which it claimed the right of defining. Thus the Church tended to lose the appearance of a free and self-governing body, and seemed to be an instrument of the policy of the State. Its pleadings and its argu- ments lost half their weight because they were backed by coercive authority. The dangerous formula, " Obey the law," was introduced into the settlement of ques- tions which concerned the relations of the individual conscience and God : a dangerous formula, because it seemed to admit the existence of a body of enlightened opinion which was struggling against the decisions of expediency and could not be met upon the open ground of truth and the reasonableness of the thing in itself. Moreover, this uniformity of the sixteenth century was essentially retrograde. We are in the habit of looking on the mediaeval Church as a great engine for the repression of opinion ; but this is scarcely true. It allowed the formation of opposing bodies of philo- sophic opinion ; men ranged themselves under the banners of conflicting teachers ; many questions which have since been closed by the Church of Rome were then open for discussion. The peasant in the country village was not left entirely at the mercy of his parish priest, but was aroused by the stirring mission THE CONGREGATIONALISTS 33 services in the open air and the popular preaching of the friars, who from time to time broke the mono- tony of the formal services of the Church. In the sixteenth century in England all this liberty was suddenly stopped. The rude festivities by which the mediaeval Church sought to bring some sense of God's presence into the ordinary life of man were done away with as being superstitious and unedify- ing. The friars disappeared, and in many villages the voice of the preacher was silent from one year's end to another. Homilies, injunctions and proclama- tions were read from the pulpit ; but they were far-off echoes of struggles and controversies which did not touch the hearts of men. The mere fact that appeals to the Pope were abolished left the man of suspected opinions at the mercy of the speedy judgment which would be given within the realm, and the issue of which could be clearly foreseen. The politic uniformity of the sixteenth century was a burden which the men of previous centuries would not have been able to bear. The men on whom the burden weighed most heavily were the more zealous or more scrupulous of the clergy. It is true that the outward expressions which they gave to their feelings of discontent were sometimes trivial. First they raised questions concerning ritual the use of the surplice and some ceremonies to which they objected as savouring of Popery. It was a cry devoid of contents and soon passed away. Then came the purely academic movement, which had its headquarters in the University of Cambridge, the movement for Presbyterianism which was started by 3 34 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES Cartwright. This movement, which seems important, was not so in reality. It took no hold upon the popular mind ; in fact the ecclesiastical system of Presby- terianism never commended itself to Englishmen. Its rigid enforcement of discipline, its large claims to allegiance, did not attract them ; long before Milton's days they had grasped the fact that " new presbyter is but old priest writ large ". The discussion of Presby- terianism was left to the learned and the decision was given against it. Still the need was felt for a freer and fuller expression of the needs of the religious life. The clergy met for the purpose of theological discussion. It may be that the time was ill-chosen ; but the State did not endeavour to find room for this growing zeal and energy. Archbishop Grindal was ordered to forbid these " prophesyings," as they were called, and when he refused was suspended from his office. After this there could be no longer any doubt about the position of affairs in England. Religious earnestness must be content to find its expression through such sources as the State allowed. Puritan- ism might be repressed as a system, but as a temper of mind it still survived and raised questions from time to time : a controversy about the keeping of the Sabbath : an effort, again started in Cambridge, to assert the rigid doctrine of Calvinistic Predestination against an apparently laxer conception of grace : still later a protest in behalf of greater morality of life as shown in reverence for the Lord's Day and the stricter observance of the practices of outward devotion. These were not matters of vital importance, and in themselves aroused only languid interest, But the THE CONGREGATIONALISTS 35 Church of England had become closely identified with the State, and under the Stuart kings the government of the State drifted slowly away from popular sym- pathies and popular aspirations. The Church was dragged in its train till it was regarded as a powerful instrument of anti-popular government. Then it was that Puritanism became powerful as a centre of op- position to a tyrannical and unconstitutional use of power, and discontent against the exercise of the royal authority was united with hostility to the jurisdiction of bishops. The development of opinion in the Long Parliament was rapid, and was moulded largely by outward circumstances. The original desire to draw a distinction between the spiritual and tem- poral power of the bishops, and to reduce them to the model of primitive episcopacy was expanded before the prospect of needful help from Scotland. The foreign system of Presbyterianism, alien to English instincts, was hastily adopted as a solution of religious difficulties and a guarantee for a substantial alliance. It was a fatal mistake, which might have wrecked the cause of English liberty ; it had the result of wrecking English Puritanism as it had hitherto existed. Yet it was a natural mistake, for it seemed to provide an answer to the existing problem. The organisation of the Church, as it was established in England, was judged to be unsatisfactory : it could provide no place for the missionary zeal of the Puritan clergy : it would pay no heed to their scruples : it had further been a help to an unconstitutional government which men were unanimous in wishing to amend. Why not try a new form which had proved its success in a 3* 36 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES neighbouring kingdom, which afforded room enough for Puritan zeal, and possessed a strong system of discipline in marked contrast to the lukewarmness of the English Church ? So thought the political leaders of the new age, and so they acted, on grounds of policy just as true and just as false as those which animated the statesmen of Elizabeth in framing the Anglican Church. The commissioners of the Kirk assembled at Westminster, and England was to be legislated into the model of Geneva. That this result was prevented, and that the great Civil War succeeded in its objects, was due to the Independents and to the principles which they as- serted. Hitherto they had not been influential in England, though it was in that country that they took their rise. They were the direct results of the evil effects which followed from the too great identity of the Church with the State. They were the ad- vanced wing of the English Puritans, whose sense of existing wrongs was so keen that their one object was to protest vehemently against them. The first man who gave expression to these feelings was Robert Browne, a puritan clergyman in Norfolk, who stated his desire for a fuller reformation in the form that " the Kingdom of God was not to be begun by whole parishes, but rather of the worthiest, were they never so few ". The importance of this statement lay in the fact that not only was he dissatisfied with the trammels of the English Church, but the system of Calvin seemed to him to be open to equal objections. He did not struggle for readjustments of the liturgy or of the ceremonies or of the government of the THE CONGREGATIONALISTS 37 Church. The proposed amendments seemed to him to be as dangerous as the present evils. Sepa- ration from what was intrinsically wrong became a plain duty. The whole of the past history of the Church was a vast mistake. A new form of the Christian community must be founded on a new basis, and Christian history must start afresh. So much in Browne's opinions was the result of the reaction of a fervent spirit against the actual condi- tions in which he was placed. His constructive system was influenced, as all systems must be, by practical considerations of what was possible. It was impossible to appeal to civil authority in aid of a revolt which threatened anarchy. So Browne asserted that the magistrate had no ecclesiastical authority at all, but that it belonged to Christians themselves to consider what is lawful and what is ex- pedient. It was impossible to form the new community on any recognised area of parish or congregation. So Browne asserted that " the Church, planted or gathered, is a company of Christians, who by a will- ing covenant made with their God are under the government of God and Christ and keep His laws in one holy communion ". His conception of church government was the absolute monarchy of Christ over His Church, imparting His wisdom and entrusting His power to all true believers. It was a theocracy founded on a democracy ; the ministers of the Church were to be chosen by the congregation and ordained by them ; they were pastors for exhortation, teachers for teaching, elders for oversight and counsel. This system of Browne contains the great principles 38 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES of Congregationalism, i. The separation of the faith- ful from sinners. Each congregation consisted of believers, and its object was to maintain a high stand- ard of purity and holiness among its members. 2. Resistance to all outward control, either on the part of the State or of a hierarchy. Each congregation was to be a voluntary body. Membership, besides depending on fitness, was to be a matter of free choice. 3. To guard this freedom each congregation was to be an independent unit, having the sole right to manage its own affairs, appoint its own teachers, and determine its own doctrine. Browne's system failed in practice, and he returned to the bosom of the Church. But the principle of separatism lived on and had its martyrs. England, holding to its belief in uniformity, could find no place for men who held separation not only to be permis- sible but an absolute duty. A little band of men so minded found a refuge in Holland, and there strove to work out their ideal of a Christian Church, which proved in practice to be no easy matter. Browne's system of church government had been practically democratic. The next exponent of Independency, Henry Barrow, who died on the scaffold for his opinions, strove to avert the evils which might flow from so broad a basis by emphasising the authority of the ministers and elders. While he condemned the aristocratic system of Presbyterianism, he sup- posed it possible that the elders should lead and the people should exercise their liberty in following. This narrow distinction was difficult to observe in practice, and the Congregation of Amsterdam tended to fade THE CONGREGATIONALISTS 39 into Presbyterianism by exalting the power of the ruling elders. It was a Cambridge man, John Robinson, once Fellow of Corpus Christi College, who gave new life to Independency by leading out to Leyden a little flock which had gathered round him in the chapel of Scrooby Manor in Norfolk. Robin- son, a man of broad mind and strong intelligence, as well as fervent zeal, reduced the position of the elders to that of moral leadership of the people, with an authority resting on persuasion a compromise be- tween popular and aristocratic government which was intelligible to Englishmen of that time. But Robinson and his congregation were not happy in Holland, and few promptings of heroism rank higher in human annals than the courageous resolve which led that little band to seek in the unknown western wo'rld a new home where they might worship God according to the dictates of their conscience, and found a pure and regenerate society unfettered by the surroundings of a degenerate past. Few relics are more profoundly pathetic than that grey boulder, religiously preserved in Plymouth Bay, Massachusetts, on which tradition says that the Pilgrim Fathers first set foot, when on 2Oth December, 1620, they dis- embarked from the Mayflower, and amid the blinding snow looked out upon the desolate spot which they were henceforth to call their home. I need not follow the history of New England Congregationalism, which stamped upon the early colonies of America the severe morality and patient industry which have trained a nation. Nor will I make it a reproach that the commonwealth, founded on an 40 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES assertion of religious liberty, did not at once declare itself in favour of toleration. Salem sent back to England those who preferred to use their Prayer- book ; and Massachusetts found no place for the turbulent spirit of Roger Williams, who first main- tained the absolute liberty of conscience. It was natural that Old England, not New Eng- land, should first grapple with this question of toleration ; and it was the struggle of the Indepen- dents against the Presbyterians which first brought it into practical form. When the Long Parliament agreed to establish Presbyterianism in England, it did not take count of the Independents. It is true that they were few and scattered, not organised into a party. They consisted of the remnants of the Brownists and Barrowists, and of those who returned from Holland ; but they were helped later by allies from New England. The Westminster Assembly drew out on paper the presbyterian system of ecclesi- astical polity ; but the more men saw it the less they liked it. It established a rigid discipline which threatened personal liberty : it claimed an absolute power of excommunication : it trespassed upon the supreme authority of Parliament : above all it required the Independents to submit to the coercive authority of an ecclesiastical assembly. The Independents were the first to raise objections to the assertion of a principle in which they did not agree ; and in the discussion of their pleas, the first pleadings for tolerance were heard. Yet it was some unknown and enlightened Anglican who first put into shape the great argument on which tolerance rests : " It were better that many THE CONGREGATIONALISTS 41 false doctrines were published, especially with a good intention and out of weakness only, than that one sound truth should be forcibly smothered or wilfully concealed ". I need not tell the story how Parliament and the Westminster Assembly decided religious matters one way while the army decided them another. Inde- pendency grew strong, because it afforded the means of a free expression of religious feelings, and so attracted the sturdy Puritans whom Cromwell formed into a splendid army. The puritan clergy, on the other hand, were attracted by the more ecclesiastical side of Presbyterianism and threw in their lot with the Kirk. The success of the army brought the Inde- pendents into power under Cromwell, who attempted a scheme of comprehension. On the one hand, he rejected the primary principle of Congregationalism for he maintained a Church which was in connexion with the State ; on the other hand, he strove to include within that Church all whom he thought could safely be included. Where the presbyterian system had been set in action it was to remain. Congregational churches were to preserve their independence, and every form of combination of these systems was per- mitted. Only episcopacy was to be suppressed : for papists and prelatists the government of the Com- monwealth could find no room. If this system had been long continued, it seems probable that Congregationalism would have largely modified its principles. It is the necessary charac- teristic of schemes which owe their power to a protest against evils, that they should flourish in opposition 42 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES but fade before prosperity. Certain it is that Inde- pendents did not express much objection to the union of Church and State on Cromwell's basis, and many of them accepted offices in Cromwell's Church. Further, where they found themselves by the side of the Presbyterians, who rode at anchor on the Westminster Confession, they were eager to set forth a confession of their own. In despite of Cromwell's objections, the Independent divines met at the Savoy, and, in the uncertain time that followed Cromwell's death, rapidly put forth their " Declaration ". Its pre- face states : " From the first, every, or at least the generality of our Churches, have been in a manner like so many ships (though holding forth the same general colours) lancht singly, and sailing apart and alone in the Vast Ocean of these tumultuating times, and exposed to every wind of Doctrine, under no other conduct than the Word and the Spirit, and their particular Elders and principal Brethren, with- out Associations among ourselves, or so much as holding out common lights to others, whereby to know where we are ". Such was the cry of the leaders of Congregationalism at the time when they seemed most prosperous. Then it was that they began to feel the need of some more definite organisation. The Savoy Declaration adopted most of the doctrinal articles of the Westminster Con- fession, but upheld the independency of local churches, though it recognised a place for councils. However, the Savoy Declaration had little authority, for the downfall of Independency rapidly followed, and a dwindling and persecuted body fell back upon its THE CONGREGATIONALISTS 43 original principles when the need for organisation was no longer pressing. The restoration of Charles II. was due to the com- bination of Anglicans and Presbyterians against the Independents. Puritanism, in the days of its ascend- ency, had not commended itself to the heart of the English people. The leaders of the old puritan clergy had joined the Presbyterians and regarded the Inde- pendents with suspicion, while they hoped for com- prehension within the re-established State Church. In that expectation they were disappointed ; and we may regret that wise statesmanship did not devise a means of temporary compromise. But on the broad ground of principle their disappointment was inevit- able, for the puritan party had unfortunately deserted its old ground and had adopted the Presbyterian sys- tem. Other differences might have been arranged, but the recognition of episcopacy was essential. When this was refused, reconciliation became impos- sible. The Church, deprived of its most spiritual ele- ment, suffered a loss from which it did not for long recover. Puritanism sank into dissent, and was con- cerned mainly with maintaining its own existence. The State pursued the old road of attempting to es- tablish uniformity by coercion, till weariness and failure led to some measure of toleration which grew into religious liberty. This historical sketch may serve to show the condi- tions which produced Congregationalism and which stamped their mark, the great characteristic of the congregational system. The aim of that system is freedom ; to obtain freedom it sacrifices even the idea 44 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES of unity. The position of Congregationalists is that " each society of believers is properly a Christian Church, and that the New Testament authorises every Christian Church to elect its own officers, to manage all its own affairs and to stand independent of and irresponsible to all authority saving only that of the Supreme and Divine Head of the Church, the Lord Jesus Christ ". Even the possibility of an organised confederacy is strictly limited, for they go on to say : " We believe that it is the duty of Christian Churches to hold communion with each other, to enter- tain an enlarged affection for each other as members of the same body, and to co-operate for the promotion of the Christian cause ; but that no Church, or union of Churches, has any right or power to interfere with the faith or discipline of any other Church". What the Congregationalists deny is the conception of the Church as a visible body. Luther asserted that the Holy Catholic Church, consisting of those who were justified by faith, was not the same thing as the Church of Rome. But in his eyes the invisible Church stood to the visible as the soul to the body, the primi- tive principle which was always striving to find a fit expression. Calvin, in like manner, contended that his system was universally true and was the only ex- pression of the form of the invisible Church set forth in Scripture. The Congregationalists recognised the futility of such claims at the bar of history, and threw away the idea of a visible Church altogether. Believers might meet and worship as they pleased : through faith they had direct communion with their Lord : what more was needed ? Their position was THE CONGREGATIONALISTS 45 good against new forms of ecclesiastical polity ; it did not affect the historic Church. We, who rejoice that we are members of the Holy Catholic Church, find in the record of our Lord's life clear witness that one great aim of His earthly ministry was the formation of a society and the education of its leaders. As a matter of fact He did not found a num- ber of small congregations, but He selected Apostles and bade them preach the Gospel in all the world and gave them the assurance of His abiding presence. The little leaven, the grain of mustard, represent an agency endowed with organic life. We know that Christ hears any prayer anywhere and anyhow offered to Him. We know that " where two or three are gathered together there is He in the midst " ; but there is also that other and fuller promise given to the visible Church which the Apostles were bidden to found : " Lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the world 'V There is an invisible Church, known only to its Lord, in which we humbly hope our mem- bership will some day be made manifest. But that does not exclude a visible Church of which we are all members here on earth, and through which, as through a portal, we pass into the Communion of Saints. That visible Church is the eternal legacy of our blessed Lord to the world. It is the witness of His work, the keeper of His word, the guardian and guide of His flock. To it He gave His most precious promises ; through it, by divinely appointed channels, He ad- ministers the gifts of His grace. The broad lines of its organisation were determined in the time of the Apostles, and round that organisation the visible 46 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES Church of Christ has ever clustered, subject, like all else on earth, to failures and imperfections, stained many a time with the disgrace of falling short of its high calling, chastened for its shortcomings, but won- drously blessed when it awakened to the sense of its mighty mission. This organisation we steadfastly maintain as being, next to God's written revelation, His greatest gift to struggling men. " We cannot afford," I quote one of the last utterances of Bishop Lightfoot, " we cannot afford to sacrifice any portion of the faith once delivered to the saints ; we cannot surrender for any immediate advantages the threefold ministry which we have inherited from Apostolic times, and which is the historic backbone of the Church." It is this historic Church which Congregationalism entirely sacrifices. Not only has the past history of the Church been a vast blunder, but it shall have no history in the future. Each congregation is to be free and independent, and is to rest on its own con- sciousness of communion with the Lord. It is as though in civil life we believed in home and heaven, and took no account of city or of state. We of the Church of England have increasing reason to rejoice that our country, in its time of trial, pre- served the immemorial heritage of the Catholic Church. The days are past when it can be regarded as a matter of policy or convenient arrangement. It has become the object of our deepest reverence, of our most pas- sionate regard. We can point, as to the witness of God's presence, to the marvellous recuperative power which it has shown and is showing ; to its capacity to adapt itself to altered circumstances and conditions THE CONGREGATIONALISTS 47 of life and thought ; to its willingness to learn truths which it has mistakenly overlooked ; to learn from Congregationalists that regard for individual respon- sibility, that sense of the integrity of conscience to maintain which their forefathers suffered and died. In spite of all its faults the Church of England is the historic Church which has influenced and is influencing the world by its testimony to the abiding presence of the Lord, not in the heart of one and another who here and there in scattered congregations assemble in His name, but in the vast body of Christian men dispersed throughout the world, who are what they are through union with Him in His visible Church, the true fostering mother of us all. THE BAPTISTS. 1 THE religious upheaval of the sixteenth century dis- closed at the same time that it created. We tend to regard it as the rising of a new theology which strove to find adequate expression for a profounder view of the relations of man to God. But it was more than this. Besides expressing new conceptions, it brought to light a number of tendencies which throughout the Middle Ages had a secret but vigorous existence, which only now and then came to the surface and then were rigorously repressed, but which none the less affected the popular mind. One of these ten- dencies was a desire for a pure and strict form of the religious community a desire which already in the fourth century troubled the Church by the schism of the Donatists. As the Church spread and its system grew more developed, the revolt against the claims of the hierarchy grew stronger, and adopted many strange forms which are hard to trace with clearness. I pass by many obscure manifestations of this spirit. But in the eleventh century we find a body who called themselves Cathari, or Purists, who founded their ideas on a mixture of Christianity with certain oriental beliefs. They solved the problem of the existence of evil by supposing that the world was created by an 1 Lecture given in Great St. Mary's Church in November, 1890, 48 THE BAPTISTS 49 evil spirit ; man's body was also his creation, but man's soul was created by the God of good. Christ came as an archangel to deliver man from the yoke of the evil spirit ; but as the body was of an evil origin He only wore it in semblance, not in reality. The religious practices founded on this belief were those of severe asceticism. The bodily life was entirely evil ; only the energy of the soul partook of good. This, according to the Cathari, was the great lesson for the Christian Church to teach, and this, they asserted, was its teaching in early times ; but the Church grew secular by mixing with the world, and fell under the sway of the evil spirit. Christ's de- signs for man's redemption could only be fulfilled by a pure body of believers, who rejected all that savoured of the corruption which belonged to all visible objects. The sacraments were condemned because they used material substance for Divine pur- poses. More absurd still in the eyes of the Cathari was the custom of infant baptism ; how was it pos- sible that one who could not be taught should be ad- mitted into any covenant ? Penitence was necessary before a man could be a member of the true Church. These opinions of the Cathari form at least a con- nected system, and in some shape or other showed considerable vitality. I do not mean to say that their fundamental conception of the creation of the world by a God of evil, and their consequent abhor- rence of all that was material, was long an article in popular belief. But its echo remained and gave form to protests against the secularisation of the Church and the materialism of the hierarchical system. 4 50 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES Bodies of men were found here and there who main- tained that the true Church ought to be composed only of true believers, and so that the sign of ad- mission to its community should be reserved for those who had given evidence of the reality of their faith. To such opinions the religious ferment of the six- teenth century gave unexpected force. Luther was dismayed to find that there were many who were not willing to submit to the limits which his teaching prescribed. Luther wished to spiritualise the old Church in the light of a more intimate and personal relationship between God and man. But older ten- dencies, which had long been suppressed, used the occasion offered by his revolt and the consequent loosening of the bonds of authority. Fanatical prophets arose who claimed an immediate revela- tion, and proposed to form a new society of the regenerate, which owed no allegiance to civil rulers, but framed itself according to the dictates of the Spirit. Their followers were known as Anabaptists, or Rebaptisers, because the sacrament of baptism was ministered afresh to those who were moved to join the new society. Amongst these bodies were in- cluded many different forms of doctrine and many different views of the Christian life. Some were orderly and devout ; others carried the sense of their spiritual election to an antinomianism which led to the most revolting excesses, and was put down by force as subversive of all order and morality. Such was the horror which they excited, that, for a long while, the name of Anabaptist was synonymous with wild fanaticism, and they were persecuted in all lands. THE BAPTISTS 51 Yet in spite of persecution they flourished, for the ideal of a pure Church was attractive, and the spirit of revolt could not be satisfied with the offer of any definite reform of the ecclesiastical system. The Ana- baptists, in fact, were the Radicals of the Reformation era, men who carried principles to their logical con- clusions, and were not to be put off by considerations of practical expediency. They saw the inconsequence of the system of territorial Churches to which Luther- anism rapidly drifted. They were not moved by Calvinism which replaced one hierarchical system by another. They maintained that the true Church consisted of those who had the inward consciousness of a new life, and that admission to the Church was a privilege reserved only for them. The Church, therefore, required no organisation, but rejoiced in that freedom which belonged to those whose spiritual life was secure. I have dwelt upon these general tendencies of re- ligious thought, because they explain a claim which the Baptists make to a direct succession of their opinions from Apostolic times. It is true that they are the representatives of tendencies which took form in early times, and frequently afterwards manifested themselves in varying shapes. But the claim to a spiritual lineage or succession is too impalpable to admit of serious discussion. It is enough to say that from time to time we find men expressing the opinion that baptism should only be administered to adults ; but the link of connexion between the up- holders of this opinion cannot be traced. The revolt against formalism frequently made itself heard, and 4* 52 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES an attack upon the sacraments was a natural form in which it found expression. After the rising of Luther, the sect of Anabaptists obtained a definite existence on the Continent, and from time to time Anabaptists were persecuted in England. They chiefly came from Holland, and so late as 1575 two Dutch Anabaptists were burned in London. But there was no organised body of Anabaptists in this country before the year 1611, and they had their origin in a separation from the Independent congre- gation which took refuge in Amsterdam. Holland was the great home of the Anabaptists, and it was there that they first assumed an orderly and organised form. It is not fair to associate the English Baptists with the fanatical sects that infested Germany in the early part of the sixteenth century. I have shown you that these sects had nothing in common save their objection to infant baptism, an opinion which did not possess much contents by itself. The man who originated the body from which the English Baptists took their rise was a Frisian priest, Menno Simons, whose mind was exercised on the subject of infant baptism. He consulted Luther and Bullinger, and found that though they both agreed in supporting the practice, they did so for different reasons. Medi- tation on the Scriptures led him to abandon this usage of the Church and join a Baptist community in 1536. There Menno placed himself at the head of those who entirely protested against the violent and fanatical party which rejoiced in personal revela- tions, despised all knowledge, abolished all books but the Bible, maintained the most extreme form of THE BAPTISTS 53 communism, and believed that they were Divinely commissioned to destroy all magistrates and set up the Kingdom of God by waging war on all who did not accept their views. Menno was a man alike pious and cultivated and well versed in theology. He maintained that no man was a Christian without a new birth " which is begun by God, the Word, and the Holy Spirit, of which the most certain fruit is a new life. Regenerate men constitute the true Christian Church, who worship Christ as their only and true King, who fight not with swords and carnal weapons, but only with spiritual weapons, i.e., with the Word of God and the Holy Spirit. They seek no kingdom but that of grace. Their doctrine is the Word of the Lord, and every- thing not taught therein they reject." In opposition to the fanatical party, from which Menno wished to dissociate his followers, he held that no Christian could take oath or carry arms or wage war ; and that magistrates should be obeyed in all things not con- trary to the Word of God. Further, Menno main- tained the need of careful discipline to preserve the purity of the Church, saying that the " visible Church vanished where discipline is not exercised," and that " the words and works of the members of a Church should agree". Baptism was administered only to adults, by pouring water on their head. It was pre- ceded by evidence of a change of life in the person so admitted into the visible Church ; but baptism was not held to confer any grace in itself; it was merely an emblem of the state of the believer who was al- ready washed and cleansed by the Spirit of God, 54 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES Similarly the sacrament of the Lord's Supper was received two or three times a year, on the ground that Christ had ordered it, but without any claim of efficacy. Church membership did not rest on any doctrinal basis of creed or confession, but on the general sense of the Church and the plain meaning of Scripture. Such statements as were put forth on these points were to inform those outside, for the purpose of avoiding misconceptions, and to clear the Church of Menno from the charges of antinomianism which attached to the name of Anabaptists. I told you in my lecture on the Congregationalists of the establishment by English refugees of an In- dependent congregation in Amsterdam, and I called your attention to the fact that that body had great difficulty in maintaining itself as distinct from Presby- terianism. This, however, it contrived to do ; but it was unable to save itself from a secession to the Ana- baptists. The weakness of Congregationalism lay in the fact that it was too purely a protest. The more logical and consistent system of the Anabaptists con- tained all that the Congregationalists strove for, and went further. It is not surprising that it attracted some who were wearied by the contentions which arose amongst the Congregationalists at Amsterdam. One of them, John Smith, who had been Vicar of Gainsborough, was greatly affected by the theological speculations then rife in Holland. He deserted Cal- vinism for the more human theology of Arminius, and accepted the view that election was the gift of the Holy Spirit to faith, but that faith did not necessarily imply final perseverance. Moreover, he differed from THE BAPTISTS 55 his friends in holding the opinion that " baptism ought to be administered as a sign of admission into the Church to persons of an age competent to understand its meaning, and not to children who happened to be of the seed of the faithful ". Having come to this conclusion, Smith and his friend Helwys were in dis- tress because there was no Church which they could join with a good conscience. In this dilemma Smith first baptised himself and then Helwys, and by this means obtained two elders who were qualified to baptise others. For this reason he was called a Se- baptist, or Self-baptiser, and his unauthorised act created much horror amongst the Independents. It is hard to see why this should have been the case ; Smith was only acting logically upon the general principles of the Separatists. If the history of the Church was to begin again, it might as well begin from the beginning. Yet still Baptist writers reject this story about Smith with some warmth, though the balance of evidence is strongly in its favour. Smith afterwards repented of his rashness and asked to be admitted into communion with the Mennonites in Amsterdam. He allowed that " it is not lawful for every one that seeketh the Truth to baptise, for then there might be as many Churches as there are couples in the world ". Helwys, however, was not prepared to withdraw from his position. He took the view that if elders only could baptise, that was to go back to the idea of an Apostolical succession, and he asked, "Hath the Lord thus restrained His Spirit, His Word and ordinances as to make particular men lords over them, or the keepers of them ? God forbid." How- 56 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES ever, the erring body of the English Baptists were admitted without rebaptism into the Mennonite Com- munion, after signing a document in which they expressed penitence for their irregular proceedings. None of the English Separatists had a finer mind or a more beautiful soul than John Smith. None of them succeeded in expressing with so much reason- ableness and consistency their aspirations after a spiritual system of religious belief and practice. None of them founded their opinions on so large and liberal a basis. I will quote such articles of his Con- fession as will enable you to understand their general tenor. " God," he says, " created man with freedom of will, which was a natural power or faculty in the soul. Adam, after his fall, did not lose any natural faculty but still retained freedom of will. Original sin is therefore an idle term. Infants are conceived and born in innocency without sin, and so dying are undoubtedly saved, and this is to be understood of all infants under heaven. All actual sinners bear the image of Adam in his innocency, fall and restitution to grace. As no man begetteth his child to the gallows, nor no potter maketh a pot to break it, so God doth not predestinate any man to destruction. The sacrifice of Christ's body doth not reconcile God unto us, which did never hate us nor was our enemy, but reconcileth us unto God. The efficacy of Christ's death is derived only to them who do mortify their sins, being grafted with Him in the similitude of His death ; and every regenerate person hath in himself the three witnesses of the Father, the Word and the Holy Spirit. Repentance and faith are wrought in the THE BAPTISTS 57 hearts of men by the preaching of the Word ; but the new creature which is begotten of God needeth not the outward Scriptures, creatures or ordinances of the Church ; yet he can do nothing against the law and Scriptures, but rather all his doings shall serve to the confirming and establishing of the law. All penitent and faithful Christians are brethren in the communion of the outward Church, wheresoever they live, by what name soever they are known ; and we salute them all with a holy kiss, being heartily grieved that we which follow after one faith and one Spirit, one Lord, one God, one baptism, should be rent into so many sects and schisms ; and that only for matters of less moment. The outward baptism of water is to be administered only upon penitent and faithful persons, not upon innocent infants or wicked persons. The sacraments have the same use that the Word hath : they are a visible Word and teach the eye of them that understand as the Word teacheth them that have ears to hear. The outward Church visible consists of penitent persons only and is a mystical figure of the true, spiritual, invisible Church. The separation of the impenitent from the outward Church is a figure of their eternal rejection : but is reserved for those who forsake repentance and deny the power of godliness. There is no succession in the outward Church but all succession is from heaven and is of the new creature only. The office of the magistrate is a permissive ordinance of God for the good of mankind ; but the magistrate is not to meddle with religion or matters of conscience." It will be seen from these extracts that Smith's 58 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES "Confession "is a powerful and consecutive statement of almost all the points which are partially insisted on in all revivals of popular religious feeling, but that it was marked by the large-heartedness which came from its Arminian basis. However, Smith's desire for charity could not save him from a breach with his friend Helwys, and Smith died in Holland in 1612 deploring the endless separations which spring from Separatism. In the same year, Helwys and his congregation returned to England, and formed on the basis laid down by Smith the first organised Baptist community in this country. They were Arminian or General Baptists, so called because they held the general salvability of mankind. It was not long before another Baptist body was formed, again by a secession from the Congregationalists. Some members of a London congregation " finding that the society kept not its first principles of separation, and being also convinced that baptism was not to be administered to infants, desired that they might be dismissed from that communion and allowed to form a distinct con- gregation in such order as was most agreeable to their own sentiments". Accordingly they seceded in 1633, and formed the body of Calvinistic or Particular Bap- tists who held the doctrines of predestination and election, according to which only particular persons are called to salvation. As this secession had been made only on the point of the mode of administering baptism, that question occupied the minds of the new congregation. They considered what steps they could take to revive this ordinance in its primitive purity, and could find no model in England, because, THE BAPTISTS 59 though some had rejected infant baptism, none had adopted the ancient custom of immersion. The Men- nonite Baptists, from whom the English Baptists took their rise, were content with baptism by sprinkling ; but it was discovered that in 1619 a new sect had sprung from them who bore the name of Collegianten. These Collegianten, so called from their Collegia, or meetings, claimed to carry out more exactly primitive practice in two points ; they did not restrict preach- ing to elders chosen by the congregation, but left it free to all ; and they administered baptism by immer- sion, as a symbol of admission into the Universal Church, not of any particular branch of it. To them the newly formed congregation in England had re- course. They sent into Holland one of their mem- bers who could speak Dutch, and he was baptised by immersion. On his return he baptised another, and these two baptised the rest. The new practice rapidly spread and superseded the former method of baptism by sprinkling. It was adopted by the General Bap- tists, and became an accepted article in the Baptist Confession of 1646. It still remains the practice of all the English Baptists. This mode of baptism was at first performed in rivers or pools, and was naturally done in secrecy by night. It lent an air of mystery to the ritual of the Baptists and marked them out from other sects who denounced them as fanatics. Indeed the Baptists were by no means popular with the Presbyterians or even with the Independents. No one attacked them with greater vigour than did Richard Baxter, who even urged that their baptismal rite, unsuitable as it 60 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES was to the climate of England, was a breach of the commandment, " Thou shalt not kill ". But there was another reason for their dislike, which rested on stronger grounds than an objection to particular ceremonies. When the great Civil War broke -out, the question of the religious future of England was inextricably interwoven with politics. The Presby- terians hoped to set up a Presbyterian Church ; to this the Independents demurred and demanded toleration for themselves. But the question naturally arose, where was toleration to stop ? An attempt was con- sequently made to define the limits of "tolerable" opinions ; but it was found that the Baptists formed a serious obstacle. Their numbers were considerable and their zeal was great. The organised Baptist bodies might have been dealt with, but we have seen that the Baptists did not so much represent a definite form of opinion as a tendency towards the assertion of the superiority of spiritual religion over all that man could desire. The Independents wished for toleration on the ground that the individual had the right to hold any beliefs he chose : to obtain this result they destroyed the idea of a visible Church and left only a number of Independent congregations ; did not this system afford ample liberty for all ? But the Baptists were not interested in this external and purely English and practical view of the situation. They asserted that there was a Church, but that it was a spiritual body ; they asserted further the in- herent incapacity of the State to meddle with matters of religion, because Christ is the only King of the Church and the only lawgiver of the conscience, THE BAPTISTS 61 Further, the Independents were frequently reminded that the position of the Baptists was only the logical development of their own, and did not like the ac- cusation of short-sighted inconsistency. The Presby- terians cordially detested the Baptists, and it was proposed that they should be invited to a disputation, and if they were proved to be in error should be put down by Parliament. This growing irritation against them was due to the rise of numerous sectaries the Seekers, the Family of Love, the Fifth- Monarchy Men, and the like, whose tenets were mostly imported from Holland, and all rested upon some development of the principles of the Anabaptists. One of the Presbyterian divines has left an account of sixteen such sects, who possessed amongst them 176 opinions which he denounced as blasphemous and heretical. It was to meet these objections and to prove the harmless nature of their tenets, that the first Baptist Confession was put forward in 1646. The doctrines which it professes are those of moderate Calvinism, and it defines the Church as " a company of visible saints, called and separated from the world by the Word and Spirit of God, to the visible profession of the faith of the Gospel : and all God's servants are to lead their lives in this walled sheepfold and watered garden ". They further asserted : " Concerning the worship of God there is but one lawgiver, Jesus Christ, who hath given laws and rules sufficient, in His Word, for His worship. It is the magistrate's duty to tender the liberty of men's conscience, without which all other liberties will not be worth the naming. If any man shall impose on us anything that we see 6z HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES not to be commanded by our Lord Jesus Christ, we would rather die a thousand deaths than do anything against the light of our consciences." This Confession somewhat removed the suspicion with which the Bap- tists were regarded, and under Cromwell they were counted with the Presbyterians and Independents as members of the State Church which was founded on the basis of comprehension. After the downfall of the Commonwealth, the Bap- tists fell into the same condition as their brethren. As they did not possess many members from the educated classes, they suffered even more than did the Presbyterians and Independents from adversity. But they had framed an organisation which was never entirely dropped and was capable of revival. The original followers of Smith and Helwys held that there were only two kinds of officers in the Church, elders and deacons ; but though they recognised that each congregation should be independent in its in- ternal affairs, they had a strong belief in a visible Church. Accordingly associations of Churches were formed and elders were chosen by the association in a particular district for general superintendence and the supply of ministers to the associated Churches. Fur- ther, the Arminian principles of the General Baptists led them to hold that it was part of their duty to preach the Gospel to every creature, and this belief put the work of evangelisation in a high place amongst their objects. It is true that the General Baptists in later times faded away into Unitarianism, but the result of their first principles survived, and the Bap- tist body has shown praiseworthy zeal in mission THE BAPTISTS 63 work. They held that either " some one in special is bound to preach the Gospel to those that are without or else all Christians are equally bound to perform this work, or else that the work ceased with the Apostles ". They adopted the first of these opinions, and agreed that some of the functions of the Apostles were of perpetual duration in the Church, and that their office as " itinerant ministers " descended to those who were to succeed them. They therefore established an order of travelling ministers, " to whom it appertains to take all occasions to cause the light of the glorious Gospel to shine unto such as sit in darkness, to plant churches, to confirm them in the faith, to visit and comfort those who have believed through grace ". These travelling ministers were chosen by an association of churches, while each church chose its own elders, the pastor being only an elder with the gift of teaching. Thus Baptist congregations were gathered together, and though membership of each congregation depended on tokens of regeneracy, discipline was exercised over the mem- bers in monthly meetings. Lay preaching was recog- nised. " It was lawful for any person to improve his gifts in the presence of the congregation." The advantages of this organisation were greatly lost in the time that followed the Restoration by want of leaders and the prevalence of small disputes amongst themselves. Even the Baptists laid aside their missionary zeal and busied themselves with maintaining their own congregations. It was the outburst of Wesleyanism which revived all religious organisations in England and threw them back upon 64 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES their first principles. Those principles were stronger in the Baptists than in other bodies, and they could renew their first energy in simple appeals to the souls of men, couched in rude, outspoken eloquence. It is noticeable that still there is a tendency in com- mon speech to distinguish between a Baptist preacher and a Congregationalist minister ; and this marks a real difference. The Congregationalists are more educated and organised ; the Baptists are more popu- lar and evangelistic. The strength of the Baptists has lain in their readiness to appeal to the people and speak a tongue which all could understand. For this, and for their readiness to find employment for the zeal of all active members of their body, they are worthy of our warm admiration. We still have something to learn under both these heads. We of the Church of England are separated from the Baptists in our conception of the nature and function of the Church of Christ. Much controversy has raged about infant baptism, but this does not really touch the main question in dispute. The re- servation of baptism for adults is merely the outward expression of a desire to set up the visible Church as a body of pure and regenerate believers in fact to make the visible Church correspond with the invisible Church which exists only in the knowledge of God. The aim of the Baptists is higher than that of the Congregationalists, who discarded the idea of a visible Church that they might affirm the rights of separate congregations. The Baptists, on the other hand, affirmed the right of freedom from outward control not as an object in itself, but as a condition necessary THE BAPTISTS 65 for the discharge of their duty to create a visible Church of perfect purity. I will not stop to point out how their aim is impossible of attainment, how it elevates man's knowledge of himself and others to a degree beyond human attainment, how it favours piety of the lip rather than of the heart, how it tends to sink into formalism as complete as that from which it professes to give deliverance. I would rather ask you to consider how it falls short of the large-hearted charity of the Catholic Church, which strives, imper- fectly no doubt, but still strives to express the fulness of its Master's teaching. The Church asserts that the Incarnation was so mighty an event that no one born into the world since then can be the same as he would have been if Christ had not lived and died. Every human soul received thereby an increased pre- ciousness in the eyes of God ; and the Church, its teaching, its ceremonies and its discipline are but an adoring witness of that stupendous truth. Its testi- mony cannot be limited by human frailty, however sad, or by human knowledge, however great its claims. Its doors stand always open to receive Christ's little ones, and give them the token of His presence with them and the gift of the added power of His Spirit which nestles within their young souls, which grows with their growth, and is harder to alienate than the loving care of parents. It seems strange to us to exclude Christ's little ones from His visible Church when He called little children to come unto Him, when He said that except we became as little children we should in no wise enter into the Kingdom of Heaven. It seems stranger still 5 66 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES that this should be done for the sake of setting forth His kingdom more clearly by establishing it on a basis of exclusiveness, resting on man's imperfect judgment of himself or others. Contrast the baptist conception of the Church with the wise sobriety of an Anglican divine, who wrote a few years before John Smith had called the English Baptists into being : "The Church is the multitude and number of those whom Almighty God severeth from the rest of the world by the work of His grace, and calleth to the participation of eternal happiness by the knowledge of such supernatural verities as concerning their everlasting good He hath revealed in Christ His Son, and such other precious and happy means as He hath appointed to further and set forward the work of their salvation. Some there are that profess the truth but not wholly and entirely ', as heretics ; some that profess the whole saving truth, but not in unity, as schismatics ; some that profess the whole saving truth in unity, but not in sincerity and singleness of a good and sanctified mind, as hypocrites and wicked men, not outwardly divided from the people of God ; and some that profess the whole saving truth in unity and sincerity of a good and sanctified heart. All these are par- takers of the heavenly calling and sanctified by the profession of the truth, and consequently are all, in some degree and sort, of that society of men whom God calleth out unto Himself, and separateth from infidels, which is rightly named the Church. For as the name Church doth distinguish men that have received the revelation of supernatural truth from infidels, and the name of Christian Church Christians THE BAPTISTS 67 from Jews, so the name of Orthodox Church is applied to distinguish right-believing Christians from heretics, the name of the Catholic Church, men holding the faith in unity from schismatics, the name of the invisible Church to distinguish the elect from all the rest." I would ask you if this careful and broad-minded statement does not correspond alike with Scripture, with the laws of human nature and with the facts of human life, which are, after all, integral parts of God's perpetual and abiding revelation of Himself. The aim of the Baptists may be high, but it does not quite agree with the teaching of the parable of the wheat and the tares, or of the net that gathered a multitude of fish both good and bad. The aim of the Baptists may be high, but it fails to recognise the depths of human nature, to take account of the mysteries of the secret development of the human soul. The more you compare the Catholic faith with partial systems, however admirable, the more, I feel sure, will you be convinced that the Catholic faith embodies the religion of common-sense. In my for- mer lecture I put before you the grand enthusiasm inspired by the mighty fabric of the historic Church as contrasted with the isolated system of Congrega- tionalism destitute of any general ideal. To-night I put before you the large-hearted charity of the Catholic Church in contrast to the noble but misguided en- thusiasm which would gain strength and significance by exclusiveness. I have purposely abstained in the case of either of these bodies from considering their present position, their immediate success or failure, 5* 68 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES their objects or their endeavours. Such considera- tions would lead into regions of polemical discussion which would be alien from the objects proposed by this course of addresses. That object is to determine the questions of principle which separate the Church from other bodies. It is by reference to its fundamental principles, not by its temporary activity or its tem- porary failures, that every system must be judged. Individuals may rise above the principles which they profess, or may fall lamentably short of understanding their full bearing, but every true Christian is bound to know the meaning of the system which he upholds and face the responsibilities which it entails upon him. If every one acted up to the fundamental truths of his religious position there would be no need for dissension, for all with good confidence would commit themselves to God's decision and await with humble hope the issue of that verdict which His Spirit, working in the hearts and consciences of men, will slowly manifest to an enlightened world. THE FRIARS. 1 I. THE COMING OF THE FRIARS. THE history of the Christian Church may be described as a history of continual reformations. We are tempted sometimes to speak of one Reformation as though it were the chief or the most notable one ; but there are many reformations in the history of the Church which in their importance can at least come into comparison with that one which we are accustomed to call " The Reformation ". It is the object of these lectures to consider one of these reformations, which was fraught with very important results, not only to the Church, but to civilisation in general the reformation, we will call it, of the thirteenth century. If we are to understand its importance and its sig- nificance, it will be well to consider first what we might expect in the nature of things that the history of the Church would be. It is perfectly true that the Church as a society and as an institution is not of this world ; but it is equally true that the work of the Church has to be done in the world. It is true that it is constantly the object of the Church to influence the world ; but 1 A course of lectures given in St. Paul's Cathedral in November, 1892, and here printed from the reporter's notes. 69 70 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES it is equally true that so soon as the Church has suc- ceeded in influencing the world, it is the turn of the world to influence the Church. It is not too much to say that the history of the Church is alternately the history of the Church affecting the world and of the Church being affected by the world. The spirit of Christianity was to transform the world. In early times it aimed at doing so from within, but when it became the recognised religion of the Roman Empire, it had to undertake the organisation of the Church and the world. Then as soon as the Church as an organised institution had affected the masses of men, it in its turn was affected by them. An institution may itself remain the same, but the spirit which inspires it tends undoubtedly to fall to the level of the mass whom it has succeeded in including within its system. So we are not surprised to find that the great epoch of the Church's history during which it succeeded in converting the barbarians was followed by a time when the institutions, the customs, the very modes of thought of those rude peoples in their turn affected the Church. The development of the Church followed the lines of the general develop- ment of civilisation, and with the feudal system there grew up a feudalised Church, modified no doubt by the idea of imperialism and by the teutonic spirit of independence. But the Church as it became feudal- ised lost its own proper nature and spirit. It tended to become merely a part of the State, an instrument in the hands of the great lords, to lose its spirituality. In face of this danger came the reformation of the eleventh century, which centred round Hildebrand, THE FRIARS 71 Pope Gregory VII. He strove to free the Church from the State, to centre it in the Papacy, to make it one organised body throughout Europe, with one definite head who should be powerful enough and remote enough to save the National Churches and pro- tect them against the too great power of the political institutions with which they were connected. That attempt was to a certain extent successful. Simony was to a large extent abolished, clerical celibacy became the rule, the Church was separated from the trammels of the State, and its right of self-govern- ment was recognised. But with these reforms came one great disadvantage, the growth of papal supre- macy ; a supremacy which rested on the idea that its power came from God to be exercised for the good of the people, and that the Papacy was responsible for this exercise. This led to a period of conflict between Church and State in which the Church fought for pre- eminence, clothed itself in grandeur, sought for wealth and recognition. The cry for reform was put into the second place, and the cry for the supremacy of the Church over the State became the first and immediate object. Once more the Church lost its spiritual hold upon the minds of the people, and then came the reforma- tion of the twelfth century following close upon the reformation of the eleventh century. It went back to the old lines of primitive times and was monastic in its nature. Many new Orders arose. The Cluniacs, the Cistercians, the Augustinian canons, like the waves in an advancing tide, each in their turn succeeded in 72 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES making some little progress before they were swept back into the abyss. For each of these new Orders was able to do something while its inspiration was fresh, but as each gained wealth and power it fell back into the general condition of the monastic Orders, it lost its vigour and power, it became secu- larised and of the world, worldly. The result was that the beginning of the thirteenth century saw that the beneficent power of the monastic system was at an end, and this feeling was expressed by a decree of the Lateran Council of 1214 which forbade the foun- dation of any new religious Orders on the ground of the confusion already caused by their multiplicity. Things were now at a standstill, and rarely had they been worse. Every organisation had been tried that seemed likely to do good, and yet the net result of all the various efforts was that on every side failure stared thinking men in the face. That failure arose from the decline of the ecclesiastical organisation, or rather from its perversion. Instead of considering the needs of the human soul, it was absorbed in the maintenance of an external system. The Church was overgrown ; it was too wealthy ; it had too many lands and possessions ; there were far too many monasteries. In fact the moment had come when reforming organisations had followed one another with such rapidity, that they had become abuses in their turn. It is reforming organisations which have lost their meaning that become the chief abuses in the world's history. The Church, too, was not only overgrown, but it was avowedly secular. The bishops were important men in the State, and they were so THE FRIARS 73 immersed in secular business that they paid little heed to the maintenance of discipline. The monas- teries, bishoprics, chapters, all were landowners, and all constantly at law with the neighbouring towns and landlords. In the eyes of Europe at that time, monastic bodies and bishops were little else but large landowners, and were treated as such. When it was proposed to make a certain pious abbot of Cluny a bishop, he fell on the ground exclaiming, " You may turn me out of my monastery and make me a dis- graced monk, but make me a bishop, never, never ! " The secularisation of the ecclesiastical organisation, moreover, had led to the degeneration of religion into superstition. The multiplication of saints and relics, indulgences and mechanical confessions had turned religion into an external thing. Perhaps we do not realise how the multiplication of saints and relics and holy places affected the minds of thinking men with something akin to terror. A certain abbot died in the odour of sanctity, and after his death miracles began to be wrought at his tomb, whereupon his suc- cessor in the office came with all the monks of the monastery and adjured the dead saint to leave off working miracles. " If thou workest miracles," he said, " thou wilt draw multitudes of people to visit this quiet spot, who will bring the world with them and turn it into a fair. We know what manner of life thou didst live here, and do not require these miracles ; do leave off working them. If thou dost not abstain, I declare to thee that I will have thy bones dug out of thy grave and cast into the river lest they bring disaster on this place," Such was the 74 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES feeling of pious men about the growth of external mechanical religion and superstitious observances. Moreover, the Church had become too clerical. There were far too many priests, all with their im- munities, cut off from the general life, and by no means in all cases setting good examples. Again, the Church was regarded as a means of extortion. The ecclesiastical courts, with their numer- ous officials prowling and spying about the country, were so great a nuisance that it was a problem often discussed in the Middle Ages whether it was by any means possible for an archdeacon to be saved. Be- sides the local courts, there were papal collectors going about gathering money for the Crusades and other purposes, and extending on all sides the papal jurisdiction. The natural result followed that the Church grew unspiritual, because it was an organ- isation not concerned primarily with the spiritual life of man, but covered the whole life of society, took it all under its survey, had something to say about everything that was done by the State, and left no portion of man's life, however small and simple, un- touched by its claim to jurisdiction. There was little preaching in those days ; religion was external and mechanical. If men would only go to church, attend the ceremonies, make their confessions, say their pre- scribed prayers, that was all that was necessary. Such was the state of things in the Church. But the twelfth century had produced a number of tenden- cies which had tended to arouse a sense of dissatisfac- tion in men's minds. The Crusades had introduced men to a world which they had never known before. THE FRIARS 75 They opened up new lines of commerce; they in- stilled into men's minds a greater care for material well-being; and they created, through intercourse with the Saracens, a new idea of tolerance which displayed itself, not in recognising what is good in others, but in relaxing the bonds of belief. Nor were there only wanderings abroad, there were also wan- derings at home. The troubadours roamed from place to place, carrying ideas which told of pleasure and delight, turning men's minds away from any con- ception of duty. And what the troubadours did for the upper classes in disintegrating their old beliefs was done for the lower classes by a strange body of men, vagabond priests and monks and students from the universities. They sang their songs in the peasant's home, as the troubadour sang his in the castle hall, they lodged where they could, and brought with them Epicurean notions of life. They parodied all the services of the Church ; they mocked at re- ligion ; they were centres of unbelief and looseners of all bonds wherever they penetrated. Side by side with these tendencies there went amongst the educated a growing criticism of saints and their miracles ; and many were the gibes and mocks that were made. The more learned priests, who saw no way of stopping the growing mischief, contented themselves with indulging in mildly cynical remarks. Philosophy, too, had advanced, and the spirit of inquiry and rationalism had received a great impulse from the teaching of Abelard. All this was seen and deplored by St. Bernard ; but all he could do was to point out the abuses of his time and implore 76 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES men to remove them. He could only direct atten- tion to the evil ; he could bring no new spirit, no new organisation which might tend to check it. So there grew up a distinct feeling of opposition to the Church, an opposition which found expression through a body of heretics difficult at the present day to understand heretics who bear divers names and whom it is hard to bring under any common term, but who may all be said to have been revivers of the old Manichean system, and to have believed in two op- posed principles at work in the world. Having de- stroyed the fundamental belief in the unity of God, they naturally passed on to divide the world into two parts, to draw an entire opposition between matter and spirit, to regard the human body and all that was concerned with it as being inherently evil, and conse- quently to set up a strange asceticism which threatened the foundations of religion and society alike. This body of heretics was divided into two strongly marked classes ; the Cathari professing beliefs which they kept secret, and which were really destructive of the unity of God, and led to asceticism through their affirmation of the inherent evil of matter ; and the Waldenses, poor men who protested against prevalent evils, and set forth the necessity of going behind authority in search of greater purity of belief. These heretics became almost entire masters of what was then the chief and most progressive population of Europe the commercial towns that were springing up in Northern Italy and in the south of France. To a statesman taking a survey of the conditions of those times, it would seem most probable that the new THE FRIARS 77 life of the middle classes, of the burghers who were rising to importance in these rapidly developing towns, would be in entire opposition to the existing order both in politics and religion, and would bring about a premature humanitarian revolution. As far as we can see, this is what must have resulted had it not been for the reformation which was expressed in the growth of the two Orders of friars. These two Orders, which came almost simultaneously into existence in different parts of Europe, did nothing less than roll back the whole tendency of things social and religious at the time. It was the work of the friars work which they nobly achieved first of all to reinvigorate religion within the forms of the existing Church; secondly, in politics, to make a bridge between the new spirit of democracy and the old spirit of auto- cracy ; and, thirdly, it was their privilege to bring into orderly being the rising civic communities. They reinvigorated the old institutions and gave them a new meaning ; they spanned the chasm between the new aspirations and the old social order ; they showed that it was possible to pour new wine into the old bottles, and that the old bottles were after all strong enough to contain it. Domingo de Guzman, the founder of one of these great Orders, was born at Calaruega, in Spain, in 1170. He studied at the University of Palencia, and became in 1199 Canon of Osma, in Castile. When Diego de Azevedo became Bishop of Osma, Domingo, or Dominic, was chosen to accompany him on an embassy to Denmark. On their journey through Europe, and especially through the south of France, 7 8 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES both were struck with horror when they found how few of the people whom they came across professed any belief in the Christian religion at all, and that those who did were almost all heretics of some kind or another. The embassy to Denmark ended, Diego with Do- minic hastened to Rome and laid before the Pope the state of things they had discovered, and expressed their wish to combat heresy in Languedoc. The Pope, Innocent III., while strongly approving the enterprise, would not sanction Diego's absence from his diocese for more than two years. On leaving Rome, Diego and Dominic went first to the great abbey of Citeaux. At Montpellier they met the legates who had been sent by the Pope to urge upon the nobles of Lan- guedoc to take some steps to cope with the growth of heresy. They gave to Diego and Dominic the result of their experience, by which they were profoundly discouraged, for neither the nobles nor the Church had supported their efforts. Deep gloom settled upon the company. They sat in silence, not knowing what to do, till at last there occurred to the mind of Diego the text, " By their fruits ye shall know them " ; and glancing at the papal legates, he saw the pomp and magnificence with which they travelled. He con- trasted this with the stern simplicity of the heretical teachers, who wandered about from city to city with only their staff in their hand, and who were capable of great sacrifices for the purpose of making converts. He said, " If we are to succeed we must borrow their methods. Let us set against pretended sanctity the beauty of true religion." The legates all agreed to THE FRIARS 79 act accordingly. They laid aside their pomp, and, taking only their staff in hand, they wandered with Diego and Dominic through Languedoc, preaching in all the churches as often as they could and holding disputations with the heretical teachers. They tried their best, but they were obliged to confess that they were not very successful. They were only a handful, the rulers took little interest in what they were doing, the bishops regarded the matter as hopeless, and the ordinary clergy were useless. What was to be done ? Diego saw that it was necessary to found a new Order of men specially trained for the purpose of preach- ing. With this end he first established a little college. He went to the monastery of Citeaux and took away from there thirty Cistercian monks for his college. But there was a want of unity about their endea- vours which compelled Diego and Dominic to see that if they were to succeed, it would only be by founding a new Order. Diego accordingly returned to Osma to free himself for this new work by resigning his bishop- ric, but he died shortly after his return. Hitherto he had been the leading spirit, his death broke up such organisation as there was, and Dominic was left abso- lutely alone. That was in 1207. The following year saw the whole of Languedoc plunged into a disastrous war. Of this it will suffice to say that the heresy in the south of France was stamped out by the sword, called in partly by religious enthusiasm, partly by the de- sire for adventure, and partly by the King of France through a general desire for plunder and conquest. From 1208 to 1215 a war went on against the rebels and heretics of Toulouse in which Simon de Montfort 8o HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES was the leader. But in 1215, Toulouse was given over to Simon who ruled it as its count and proceeded to suppress heresy by vigorous measures. At the outbreak of this war, Dominic preferred to stay in Toulouse, but though he was on the side of the sword, he did not himself mix in the war. His prayer was : " Lord, send forth Thine arm and afflict them, that this affliction may give them understanding". In this attitude he watched the war, not hounding on the persecutors but occupying a neutral position. Once he was asked by a heretic, " Suppose we win in this battle and you are taken prisoner, what fate do you expect ? " Dominic replied, " I expect to be put to death ; and my prayer to you is not to put me to death at once, but to cut me in pieces, that so I may merit a greater crown of martyrdom " a reply which showed the spirit of the man. When the war was over, Dominic was able to found the Order which he had so long had in his mind. He was given a little house by the Bishop of Toulouse with a church annexed to it, and this he made his headquarters. But he had to go to Rome for the confirmation of his Order, and there he met with considerable difficulties. Pope Innocent III. at first refused to recognise the Order, on the ground that preaching was entirely in the hands of the bishops, and that the Pope must maintain the existing order of things ; and, secondly, that the Lateran Council had forbidden the creation of new religious bodies. But, it is said, in the night the Pope had a vision of a poor man supporting the Lateran basilica, which he took to mean that he was not to refuse assistance THE FRIARS 81 for the Papacy from any quarter. He accordingly ordered Dominic to do the best he could without forming a new Order, and to take any existing Rule and adapt it to his purpose. Dominic chose the Rule of St. Augustin as being the oldest known to the Church, and which being merely disciplinary could readily be adapted to his purpose. He replaced the obligation of manual labour for the obligation of study and preaching, so that the Order might be a body of men whose duty it was to study and preach. For that purpose the hours of prayer and the obligations of fasting were modified, and copious dispensations could be given by the prior to any brethren who were engaged in teaching and preaching. The object of the Order was to preach and to save souls. When everything had been settled and the first monastery built at Toulouse, Dominic went again to Rome and obtained from the new Pope, Honorius III., a bull giving the Order the sanction of the Church under the title of the " Preaching Brothers ". We cannot but notice the caution and respect for established regulations with which the Pope acted when he managed to create a new Order without seeming to do so. In this way the Order of the Dominican friars came into being. When Dominic returned from Rome in 1217, he found sixteen breth- ren, eight Frenchmen, seven Spaniards and one Eng- lishman, Brother Lawrence. Having got these sixteen brethren, he determined to send them out into all parts to preach. He had three places chiefly in view which he wished to influence Rome, Paris and Bologna, the three great centres of university life. 6 82 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES The growth of the Order when once it was started was remarkable. In Paris it found its abode in the Hospital of St. James, lately founded by a priest for the accommodation of strangers. This continued to be the central home of the Order in France up to the time of the Revolution, when it was taken pos- session of by a political club which took from the place its name of Jacobin. In 1 220, on Whitsunday, the first general chapter of the Order was held at Bologna, and then it was that Dominic proposed that they should follow the example of the Franciscans and give up all their pos- sessions. This was agreed to, and it was made part of their rule that henceforth they should have nothing which they could call their own. At a second general chapter, it was reported that the Order consisted of sixty convents in seven different provinces or coun- tries, and then taking a survey of the world, Dominic determined to complete the organisation by sending missions to Hungary and England. In 1221, the first Dominicans arrived at Canterbury, and were welcomed by the Archbishop who sent them to Oxford. There they took up their abode first in the parish of St. Edward amongst the Jews, until the King gave them a place of their own outside the walls, amongst the lowest of the people. In this way the Order took possession of Europe, and, just as their organisation was complete, Dominic died on 6th August, 1221. The character of Dominic is hard to fix. There are few stories about him which throw light upon it ; we cannot gather much about his personal qualities. Kindly and genial, simple and sympathetic, emotional THE FRIARS 83 in a high degree, he seems to have shown a singular mixture of the active and contemplative qualities. St. Francis was a poet, St. Dominic was a statesman, a statesman of a high order, but he did not rise higher than a statesman, and, had his Order not been supported by the corresponding Order of the Franciscans, it would not have flourished as it did. But he was a prince among organisers, and one of the most states- manlike of the men who have ever faced the problems of their own time and striven to find a remedy for them. 6* THE FRIARS. II. ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI. IN my last lecture I pointed out to you that the work which Dominic achieved and the Order which he founded was a work of organisation, and that it owed much of its pre-eminence to the fact that it was inspired by the spirit not of Dominic, but of Francis. The two Orders springing up at the same time reacted upon one another, so much so indeed that it may be said that the Franciscan movement, if it had been left to itself, would probably have disappeared altogether before it had finished its work, while the Dominican if left to itself, could never have moved men as it did. Francis, or as his real name was, Giovanni, was the son of Pietro Bernardini, a merchant of Assisi, and was born in 1181. His mother, Madonna Pica, came apparently from the south of France, and perhaps the name of " Francis " was substituted for that of " Giovanni " because her son was at one time known as " the Frenchman ". We certainly know that in his youth it was his custom to sing Provengal songs to his companions, and there was much of the light-hearted- ness and geniality of the men of Southern France in his character. He was first brought up with the usual 8 4 THE FRIARS 85 education of a boy in his days till he was old enough to enter his father's business. He was a mischievous boy, very prodigal of his money, and given to pecca- dillos, on one occasion robbing his father's till that he might have money for his pleasures. He had a serious illness when a young man which sobered and changed him a great deal ; but his mind was filled with the desire for adventure, and in 1202, taking ad- vantage of a war against Perugia, he became a soldier. He was made prisoner and kept in confinement for a year, and even then it was noticed that he was always patient and cheerful under his privations. On his re- lease he returned to Assisi, and the outward marks of a change in his character were then apparent. One day a poor soldier begged of him by the wayside, and Francis having nothing else to give, took off his own fine clothes and put them on the beggar's back. In 1204 he went on another warlike expedition, and at its close on his return home he was entertained by his friends and companions at a supper. It was noticed that Francis was vacant and abstracted, and did not seem very happy. One of his friends said banteringly to him, " I know what has happened to you, you are in love". "Yes, yes," Francis made reply, " I am in love. I see it now ; but I am in love with a fairer maid than ever your eyes rested upon." His friends laughed and did not catch his meaning. This is the first indication we have that Francis was grow- ing enamoured of poverty, whom henceforth he was to regard as his heart's love. All this was passing through his mind without his being conscious whither he was tending. But in 1205 86 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES there happened the event known as his conversion, which occurred suddenly and in an almost grotesque manner. Francis was sent by his father to sell some cloth at the neighbouring town of Foligno. As he was returning from the fair with the money in his pocket, it suddenly struck him that this money was mere worthless dross. He turned his horse's head, returned to the town where he sold his father's horse, and took all the proceeds of the day's sale to the priest of a ruined church as an offering for the restora- tion of the building. The priest refused to take so large a sum, knowing that Francis could never have come by it in an ordinary way. Thereupon Francis in a passion flung it out of the window into the back- yard, but asked that he might live with the priest. To this the priest consented, but meanwhile the father of Francis made a hue and cry in search of his son and his goods, and Francis had to lie concealed in a loft for a month, until at last, in answer to his prayers for guidance, he became conscious that it was wrong to hide. He accordingly went to his father, who at once gave him a sound beating and locked him up in his room, demanding his money. Francis answered that he had thrown it away. He was kept a prisoner till one day, in the absence of Pietro, his mother came and unlocked the door and let Francis out. On his return, Pietro was still more angry because he had seen his son wandering about the streets, laughed at and mocked at by everybody. He dragged Francis before the magistrates who, perplexed to know how to deal with such a case, remitted it to the Bishop. The Bishop ordered Francis to return the money. THE FRIARS 87 Francis thereupon, in obedience to the Bishop, went to the place where he had flung the money away, found it and restored it to his father, with every- thing else he possessed, even the very clothes he was wearing, declaring, " Up to this time I called Pietro Bernardini my father, but now I am the servant of God ". From that time forth Francis broke off all connexion with his family. There is no further men- tion made of either father or mother in his life. It would seem that by this strange proceeding, Francis felt that he had at last worked his way to freedom to follow his ideal ; but he knew that freedom had to be paid for. If he desired to detach himself from the world and rise above it, he knew that he must demand nothing of the world. Poverty therefore was of the very essence of the position of Francis. It seemed impossible for him to express himself under the ordinary conditions of life ; to obtain the power of self-expression he must free himself from those condi- tions, and he could not do that on his own terms. If he showed himself willing to give up father and mother and all family obligations, then he must be prepared also to give up everything else. Through all this Francis became conscious that he had pur- chased for himself spiritual freedom, that is to say, the liberty to live his own life according to the con- victions of his inner soul, without interference from society or the world, even in their highest forms. Having gone so far, Francis had to remake his life. How was he to use the freedom and detachment from the world which he had gained ? He began with a series of wanderings which had not much aim in 88 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES them. Once he was met by a band of robbers, who asked him who he was. He replied that he was " the herald of a great King," but they stripped him, threw him into a ditch and left him lying in the snow. It is difficult to know what to make of Francis all this time. Indeed he did not know what to make of himself. He returned to Assisi, and set himself to the work of restoring churches. With his own hands he rebuilt three St. Damiano, St. Peter and the Portiuncula. The traveller who gets out at the rail- way station of Assisi sees close by the magnificent Renaissance Church, which rises over the original building called the Portiuncula, at which Francis worked. The original little church itself is hardly bigger than a cottage room, but that was the church at which Francis laboured, in which he prayed, and which became the centre of his Order. It was while he was here, after he had been joined by a single companion, that he discovered what he had to do with his life. Hearing the Gospel read one day, the familiar words fell on his ears with a new meaning: " Provide neither gold, nor silver, nor brass in your purses, nor scrip for your journey, neither two coats, neither shoes, nor yet staves. And as ye go preach, saying, ' The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand '." "This is what I wish," he exclaimed. "This is what I am seeking for. This I desire to do with all the powers of my soul." Henceforth his object in life was to go forth as the first Apostles had done, carrying the same message, the message of repentance and of the peace of believing. Accordingly he started as a herald of peace and repentance. When he met any THE FRIARS 89 man his greeting was, " God give you peace ". If the man returned the greeting and showed a disposition to listen, Francis pressed upon him the need of repentance if that peace was to be his. So he wan- dered along the roads, first of all laughed and mocked at, and then gradually heeded and listened to, until at last it became clear that Francis was a power. Many men became ready to join him, and before the end of the year there were no fewer than eight who were anxious to lead the same sort of life as he was leading. The question then arose, what were they to do ? How was this life to be led ? Francis was the exact opposite of Dominic who from the first had desired to found an Order, and to organise men for a particular purpose. Francis, on the other hand, was troubled when men gathered round him. He had no desire to organise a community, or to do anything whatever except live his own life in the way that he thought best. But when other men gathered round him, it was necessary that they should have some account to give of what they were doing. At first they were known as " the Brothers of Assisi ". The Bishop objected to this, and then they called themselves " Men of Penitence ". But they took no further steps towards organisation. The first regulations drawn up by Francis did not contemplate an Order at all. He simply settled what was to be the mode of life of the brethren, and that in the simplest form. The three principles upon which they lived were, that a man should give his goods to the poor, that he should live his life in imitation of the Apostles 90 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES of the Lord, and that he should live in poverty that so he might be free from society. The object was detachment from the world and entire dedication of the heart to God. So Francis and his brethren went forth as preachers, like many of the heretical teachers, but not at all on the same lines as any previous de- velopment of monasticism. As they wandered from place to place, they spoke simply their message of peace, and their sole call was a call to repentance. It was a mere chance whether Francis would be called a heretic or not. The matter was decided by the fact that the moment he saw others gathering round him, he conceived it to be his duty to seek the opinion of the Pope ; for in those days orthodoxy was mainly distinguished from heresy by its submission to authority. Accordingly in 1210, Francis and eleven companions went to Pope Innocent III. and asked for permission to preach. That permission was some- what difficult to get, because these men were laymen, they had no claim to be educated people, there were no grounds whatever upon which they could press their request. They had been commended by the Bishop of Assisi to a certain bishop in Rome, who first advised Francis to become a hermit. But Francis replied that to be a hermit would not fulfil his object. Accordingly he was at last taken to the Pope, and the Pope gave him a verbal permission to preach : " Go in God's name and preach repentance to all ". There was no idea of founding an Order, but this step was important, because it was really the beginning from which the Order arose and spread, THE FRIARS 91 The important feature of the teaching of Francis was that he preached not the doctrine of Christ, but the Person of Christ. He held up before men right- eousness, not as the secret of future happiness, but of present happiness, of peace beginning in this world, here and now. He preached not the law of God, but the love of Christ. He opposed nobody, he rebuked nobody, he was in no sense antagonistic to anything. He did not denounce sin, he spoke only of joy and righteousness. The teaching of Francis was in every way absolutely positive, the embodiment in his words and actions of the joy and peace of the believing soul that is at one with God. On that ground only did his appeal come home to the hearts of men. He soon kindled their imaginations. A man of the people, speaking their own tongue by the wayside and wher- ever he found them, he appealed to the popular fancy as a representation of the life of Christ. That is the secret of the myths and legends that have gathered round Francis. Francis lived for a short time in a hut outside Assisi, but subsequently he withdrew to a cell which he had made for himself near the Church of the Portiuncula, and this henceforth was his home. Inside the modern church, the cell in which Francis died still remains, beside the little church which his own hands had built. Francis impressed upon the minds of his brethren that, having withdrawn themselves from the world and being poor, their first duty was to work. They were not yet an Order, still less had Francis any idea of founding a mendicant Order. He and his followers might beg sometimes, but it was only for 92 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES their own spiritual good ; their object was to win souls by preaching, and the mode in which they were to do it was by imitating the Apostles. So it was that they took to themselves the names of Fratres Minores, be- cause they were subject to all in loving service. The first friars did not live entirely in cities or in any fixed place ; they were in constant movement, remaining only a short time in one place lest they should gain posses- sions. Their life varied between going forth at times to preach, and, at other times, living in retirement in cells and caves. But as their numbers increased, it became impos- sible for them to remain unorganised. The growing numbers by degrees altered the nature of the com- munity and widened its scope, and it became clear that some steps must be taken towards organisation. In 12 1 2 Francis projected a mission to unbelievers, intending first to go to Morocco, but this was put off. In 1219, he planned a mission to all Italy, Spain, France and Hungary. In this way the body of brethren unconsciously became a body of mission preachers, and there came in consequence a greater need of recognition by the Pope. If they were to go forth and preach throughout Christendom, it was necessary that they should have some kind of in- troduction. Accordingly a bull was published in 1219 which commended them to all Christendom as " Catholic-minded and faithful men," and the Pope bade the French clergy receive them as good Catholics, who had laid aside the pleasures of the world to sow the Word of God. Early in 1220 Francis had an opportunity of realis- THE FRIARS 93 ing his dream of going to the East. A crusade was setting out, and he went with it as far as Damietta, where he remained for the space of a year, but what he did there is not really known, though a number of legends are told about it. In his absence great dis- orders broke out amongst the body of the brethren, and various changes were made which were utterly contrary to his wishes, and threatened to merge his society in ordinary asceticism. It became clear that more organi- sation was needed, and for that purpose a definite body must be formed with a head and a declaration of its ob- jects. The result was the formation of the Rules first of 1 22 1 and then of 1223. Francis did the best he could under the circumstances, but he viewed the step with regret, and withdrew more and more from the affairs of the society which no longer needed a man of simple, open mind at its head, but rather an organiser such as was found in Brother Elias. That the Order should be organised was inevitable, but none the less disastrous, and Francis recognised it as a disaster that an ideal conception should have to be expressed in a concrete form. Moreover, the Order must have some ostensible means of support, and when it was written down in black and white that it was to be maintained by the alms of the faithful, it was thereby converted into a mendicant Order. Originally simply an ideal of life, and then going on to find practical occupation in mission preaching, it now became a definite organ- isation on the basis of mendicity. In truth the necessity for this development had existed from the beginning. But Francis was inevitably disappointed. The ideal which he had followed seemed to be lost, 94 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES and with it his sense of freedom. He withdrew more and more from men, to seek God only. Hitherto he had divided his life between prayer and preaching, now he gave himself almost wholly to prayer. He was, of course, still influential in the Order, but he was no longer its mainspring. The next change that came over the Order was that, instead of consisting of wandering missions, it began to make settlements in cities. Originally, Francis had preached to his followers a life of activity and retirement combined, but those who loved activity tended to gravitate to the towns, and those who loved retirement to live the life of hermits. The consequence was a beginning of separation in the Order. The men of marked abilities went to the towns, while the men of no particular account lived in obscure corners in the country. The result was a decay of the first enthusiasm, and a greater conformity to the world. All these things, it would seem, Francis was con- scious of. He lived more and more in retirement, passing from place to place and being increasingly regarded as an object of reverence by all who saw him, suffering greatly in health, chiefly from an affection of the eyes. Never was there a man more absolutely simple, never was there a man who thought less of self, never was there a man who more carried the overwhelming power of love into everything which he did. Not only did he love all men whom he came across, but he loved all things. The conception of the love of animals was exceedingly remote from the temper of the Middle Ages. Animals were simply regarded as dependent on men, to be used for their THE FRIARS 95 benefit. But Francis showed an exceptional love for all created things. The accounts of his life are full of stories of his relations with animals, some grotesque, some exceedingly pathetic and all within the bounds of possibility. The most incredible would probably seem the account of Francis's preaching to the birds. Once, when he was preaching in the open, a number of swallows made so much noise with their twittering that he turned to them and said : " My brother swallows and my sister swallows, please be still for a while that I may preach the Word of God ". No sooner had he spoken than the birds were silent ; they sat upon the trees and held their peace till Francis had finished. He then turned to them and said : " Now brothers and sisters you may resume your song ". Thereupon they began to sing. Again, one day in his wanderings, Francis saw a field entirely covered with birds. "It seems to me," he said, "that our brothers and sisters, the birds, want to listen to me ; " and he accordingly went and stood in the midst of them and preached to them about God's care for them, and the sin of ingratitude. The story tells us that while Francis was speaking, the birds bowed their heads before him and were silent. Doubt- less these stories are partly parables, but there is no doubt that Francis spoke the words, whatever may have been the behaviour of the birds. There are people who have a special attraction for birds, and Francis seems to have been one of these ; and he had this special attraction not for birds only but for animals of all sorts. The stories of his love for animals are innumerable, and show the way in which he sym- 96 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES pathised with all things, and also show the power of parabolic teaching which that sympathy gave him. As he walked about and observed everything, he gathered materials for preaching sermons of infinite pathos, and in that way he carried his message home to men's hearts. He died, quite worn out, on 4th October, 1226, long before his time, and, as he died, he sang a song in which he again repeated his sympathy with all created things. Praised be the Lord by our brother Death of the body, Whom no living man can escape. Woe to them who die in mortal sin, Blessed are they whose wills are at one with Thine For the second death can work them no ill. If we are to estimate Francis aright, we must think of him as a poet, whose life was his poem. He was a man full of sentiment and emotion, but his life was absolutely consistent. Full of deep poetic feeling, but never sinking below the ideal which he pursued, he saw Christ everywhere, in everything upon earth, in flower and in beast. His belief was to him absolute joy. He may have been exaggerated, but he was certainly sincere. His one idea was love, absorbing love. His morality was not according to rule and regulation. He sometimes caused dismay amongst his followers by his actions, as when, for instance, he gave a poor woman his book of hours, with the re- mark, " Greater is love even than prayer ". He broke the fasts of the Church, and encouraged others to do likewise when he thought it was necessary. He was lively, humorous, enthusiastic in prayer, loving to pray most often in lonely churches or woods. It was said THE FRIARS 97 that when he prayed, his whole self seemed to be an incarnate prayer. He was not as one absorbed in prayer, but his whole self was a prayer. Men thought that his prayers were specially heard, and from that belief they assigned to him many miracles. Yes, he was a worker of wonders, because he had the magic of the poet of the poet who carries men outside and beyond themselves. Many men before Francis had boasted that they got outside the world by retiring from it ; but Francis, in the world, but not of it, rose above self and the world alike. It was said of him, " He made of all things steps whereby he mounted to the throne of God ". In the clash of material interests that he saw around him on every side, his pure spirit awoke the cry of an exalted and renovated humanity before which the weapons of war dropped. THE FRIARS. III. THE INFLUENCE OF THE FRIARS. THE reformation of the thirteenth century owed its permanent results to the fact that two Orders of widely different kinds and with widely different aims came into being almost at the same moment ; and these two Orders in a marvellous way supplemented one another. Dominic had the sense of organisation ; Francis had a new spiritual impulse. These two great factors coming from opposite sides were gradually amalgamated and consequently produced permanent results. Dominic gave to Francis the outward shell which preserved the fruits of his enthusiasm. Had it not been for the organisation which the Franciscans gained from the example of the Dominicans, though their first enthusiasm might have been very beautiful, it would have rapidly vanished. On the other hand, had not Francis given Dominic a new spirit, the re- vival of the old mechanism at which he aimed would not have been productive of the results which the Dominican Order was afterwards enabled to accom- plish. Really the two worked together, a fact which is made plain by the study of the history of the Orders, THE FRIARS 99 Dominic, for instance, received his Rule from the Pope in 1216, the Rule which he had himself created and framed in accordance with the directions he received. The previous negotiations with Dominic served as a model for the Papacy when it became necessary, in 1221, that the movement initiated by Francis should have a distinct organisation. The two Orders helped one another, and, more- over, in their actual working they drew nearer and nearer to one another, and what was more important in the popular estimate, they became more and more con- nected. There was no story more current at the time than that of the vision of the chariot with two steeds. The chariot represented the Church and the two horses Dominic and Francis, and he who saw the vision heard a voice from heaven which said, " I have raised up my servant Francis to rebuke the avarice of the clergy, to show the uselessness of riches, to set forth for imitation the boundlessness of compassion, and to de- clare the dignity of evangelical poverty. And I have raised up my servant Dominic to be the steward of my word, a wondrous preacher, a subduer of the hard heart of unbelief." These words describe exactly what contemporaries thought of the two Orders. They recognised that Francis brought the new spirit and that Dominic simply reinforced the old organisation. To a certain degree the leading characteristics of the two Orders remained the same for some time. It was the object of Francis to preach by his life. Dominic, on the other hand, lived for the purpose of preaching. Living was everything to Francis, practical energy was everything to Dominic. But little by little the 7* TOO HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES ends of the two Orders grew similar. The Dominicans accepted poverty from the Franciscans, and the Fran- ciscans, though grudgingly, accepted training from the Dominicans. Of course to do this was an entire blow to the whole conception which Francis had striven to set forth. Yet it was necessary. For if there was a plain duty which the Franciscans must undertake, that duty was teaching ; and if they were to teach when the first enthusiasm passed away, it became obvious that they must be trained to teach. Training, which had been the very essence of the conception of Domi- nic, was forced on Francis sorely against his will. Once, finding a book, a breviary, in the hands of one of the brethren, Francis had exclaimed : " You do not need to read books ; I am your breviary". In the same way Brother Egidius, when he heard of the Franciscans going to the University of Paris, and of their fame there, was horrified, exclaiming : " Paris, Paris, you are destroying the Order of St. Francis ! " The first general of the Franciscans in England, when he went into the schools at Oxford, and heard the friars engaged in disputations, was terrified as he listened to metaphysical speculations in which the very existence of the Deity was regarded as a matter to be examined by human reason, and exclaimed : " Woe is me, simple friars enter heaven, while learned friars are disputing if there be a God ". It is obvious that the impulse which Francis gave to society was only with great difficulty reduced to a definite Rule. Properly speaking it was never reduced to a Rule at all. To some extent the Franciscans remained rebels to the end of their existence. Some THE FRIARS 101 of them never ceased to be rebellious, and refused to submit to the fetters which it was sought to place upon them, because they felt that the very origin of their Order was a spirit of freedom. I wish now to proceed to consider the influence of these two Orders upon Europe, and first I will speak of the mode of their influence. It is obvious that when a great wave of enthusiasm passes over a coun- try, and still more when it spreads over the whole of Christendom, it is very difficult for any one to resist its influence. Doubtless when once the move- ment of the friars had really begun to spread, no one could altogether avoid being affected by it. Still, had the Franciscans alone arisen, it would have been im- possible for the more cultured and educated people to be really impressed by the movement. The dra- matic side, we may almost call it the vulgar side, of the conduct of the Franciscans revolted many of the more educated people, and the only practical way they had of expressing their disgust was to try and create a certain amount of antagonism by favouring the Dominican Order. The Dominicans may be said to have flourished to some extent as being a reaction against the Franciscans. Both Orders associated to themselves a number of other Orders, or as it is ordin- arily stated, both Orders created Tertiaries. This is not quite an accurate way of stating the matter. It seems more probable that these Tertiaries of the Or- ders were not creations either of Francis or Dominic. There had always been religious guilds and brother- hoods, composed of people who had bound themselves for their soul's health to perform certain duties, or 102 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES to take upon themselves certain religious obligations. When the new movement of the friars was influencing Europe, it was natural that these somewhat vague religious associations should put themselves under the direction of one or other of the new Orders. In con- sequence it may be said that Tertiaries grew up, they were not created ; they were not instituted by Francis or Dominic. Francis instituted nothing. It is necessary to remember this, because it is the key to his influence. He asked nobody to follow his ex- ample. That people should gather round him was natural, and when they gathered round him, he gave them maxims to live by, but the Rules of the Ter- tiaries of St. Francis remained exceedingly vague, and it could not be said that they had any very definite organisation until the end of the century. The Rule of the Order was also adapted for women by Santa Chiara under the direction of Francis. It will thus be seen that in a very short time the organisations of the friars not only spread over Europe but found room for every class of society. The cultured and learned could associate as Tertiaries of the Order of St. Dominic, and the ignorant and vulgar might be- come Tertiaries of the Order of St. Francis. The organisation spread and became complete till it could take in everybody. If we ask what was the secret of the success of the friars, the answer must be that it was due to their per- severance under all possible difficulties. Few stories are more touching than the account of the arrival of the Franciscans in Germany. They went there, first of all in 1219, sixty of them, of course all Italians, THE FRIARS 103 and the only German word they knew was " Ja ". When, first of all, they were asked if they wanted food, they answered " Ja " correctly enough ; but when they were asked if they were heretics, they answered "Ja" to that also, with the result that they were usually beaten by the peasants, stripped of their clothes and left naked. So, barely escaping with their lives, they returned to Italy in despair. Their failure was discussed at the great chapter in 1221 held at the Portiuncula, at which 8,000 brethren were present, dwelling in huts made of branches of trees. It was a marvellous scene, calculated to impress the mind of Europe which saw this great multitude of brethren all gathered together in one little place, whilst the neighbouring cities vied with one another in sending them supplies of food. Francis was already ill, and Brother Elias spoke for him. It is pathetic to picture Francis sitting at the feet of Elias, who first stooped down to learn the saint's wishes, and then spoke to the multitude. Speaking in Francis' name, Brother Elias said : " Since those who have been sent to Germany have been ill-used, I will not order any more to go, but will any one volunteer?" Thereupon ninety arose and offered themselves for what was re- garded as certain death. This time they were not martyrs, and they succeeded in their mission. But they had their difficulties. They had increased their stock of German by this time, but whenever they asked for alms they were always refused, with the words, " God provide for you," a courteous and pious way of saying " No". For some time they received this answer regularly, until at last one of them said, 104 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES " This will altogether undo us ". He went to the next house, and when they said, " God provide for you," he simply smiled in their faces as if he did not under- stand their language, and when the door was shut in his face, he sat down on the doorstep and waited, until at last the peasants, seeing that he could not be got rid of, gave him some bread, and so the friars learnt how to get over the first refusal. They had somewhat easier experiences on first coming to England, but there the way had been a little prepared for them by the Dominicans. A small party of Franciscans arrived in September, 1224, anc ^ went first to Canterbury, then to Oxford, and then settled in London, and afterwards at Northampton, Cambridge and Lincoln. In all cases their history was pretty much the same. At Oxford, they first went to the Dominican House, and they were at once welcomed and helped. At Canterbury, the Master of the Hospital gave them a site, and the citizens built them a little house. It is noticeable that in England they retained their simplicity for the longest time. But the characteristic which most helped them, and which was to a great extent new, and gave a new force to their teaching, was their exceeding cheerfulness. No- where was that characteristic more conspicuous than in England. At Oxford, the brothers had to be pre- vented by a solemn ordinance from laughing so much at their prayers. As they knelt, their sense of humour would overcome them, and they would roll upon the floor in uncontrollable paroxysms of laughter. The stories told about them show their exceeding light- heartedness under circumstances of great privation. THE FRIARS 105 It is related that some Dominicans, while on a journey, had to take shelter with the Franciscans. There was so little in the house, that one of the Franciscans ran out to beg food for the guests, and returned with a jug of beer. They sat down to the table and tried their best to behave as if it was tolerably well furnished, until at last the humour of the situation struck them so forcibly that they all burst into shouts of laughter, to the great astonishment of their Dominican guests. More characteristic still is a beautiful epilogue by an English friar who, when ill, saw his guardian angel enter the room and seat himself by his bedside. After him came two devils, who accused the friar of all the things that he had done amiss in his life. At last one of the devils said to the other : " Besides he is so frivolous ; he laughs and makes jokes and cuts all manner of capers ". Then the guardian angel rose up and said to the devils : " Begone, so far you have spoken the truth, but now you find fault with his cheerfulness, and if you make out religion to be a sad and gloomy thing, you will drive his soul into the recklessness of despair and strangle his spiritual life". And so saying the guardian angel drove the fiends forth. The tone of these anecdotes shows what was the mode of the friars' preaching. Their familiar style was unlike anything that had been heard before. They preached in the vulgar tongue, and it is doubt- ful whether this was not a new thing. Their preach- ing was at first of a very crude description of the same kind as goes on at a Methodist revival in an English village strong denunciation of sin, mixed with stories 106 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES that the people could understand. It was this revival of preaching which enabled the friars to carry their message home to the hearts of all. Further, they had the habit of teaching not only by their stories but also by their mode of life, by humorous acts which carried home their meaning to everybody's mind. There were few more famous friars than Brother Juniper, who was noted for his simple mind. One story related of him calls attention to another point which helped to give the Franciscans their import- ance, their absolute unconventionally and entire dis- regard of all ecclesiastical propriety. The brother was one day praying alone in church when a poor woman entered and begged of him. The good brother had nothing of his own to give her, but looking round him he saw that the high altar was vested in its finest altar-cloth, and that the frontal was adorned with little silver bells. So he went up to the altar, tore off the bells and gave them to the woman. The sacristan happening to return soon afterwards was aghast at the sacrilege that had been committed, and he went and denounced the poor brother to the Superior. The Superior was exceed- ingly indignant and he sent for Brother Juniper and harangued him for so long that he became quite hoarse. Brother Juniper, who was not conscious of having done anything wrong, was greatly concerned that he should be the unwilling cause of his Superior's hoarseness. Accordingly he went into the city and ordered a sort of gruel of flour and butter to be made. He returned with his gruel when it was already night, and finding that the Superior had THE FRIARS 107 gone to bed, Brother Juniper knocked at the door of his cell, and said, " My father, to-day when thou didst reprove me for my faults, I saw that thy voice grew hoarse, wherefore I bethought me of a remedy, and let make this mess of flour for thee ; therefore I pray thee eat it, for I do assure thee it will ease thy chest and throat". The Superior, not unnaturally, was extremely indignant at being awakened from his sleep for such a cause, and refused the gruel. Brother Juniper, seeing that neither prayers nor coaxings would avail, said, " My father, if thou wilt not do this, at least hold the candle for me and I will eat it ". The Superior, seeing that Brother Juniper was in- corrigible, then said, " Come now, since thou wilt have it so, let us eat it, you and I together " ; and so they made their peace with one another, and, in the dead of the night, finished the gruel between them. This is a quaint illustration of the simple spirit, the absolute unconventionality, which characterised the Franciscans. The Franciscans were not only the first popular preachers, they were also the first to embody a prac- tical philanthropy. Their social work amongst the poor was something quite unknown before. They managed to get sites given them for their buildings close to, or just outside, the city walls. The city wall was a great barrier in olden days. Inside the city there might perhaps be a certain amount of order and cleanliness, but outside the walls came the ditch and often a pestilential marsh, on which refugees from the country pitched their huts. These people were, of course, outside the care of the civic government and of io8 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES the parish priests, and it was among them that the friars mostly settled and worked. To help these poor creatures, they became physicians and nurses as well as preachers. They lived amongst the people, shared their lives, and did their utmost to alleviate their sorrows. But the friars gave an impulse not only to philan- thropy but also to learning. Their work as preachers naturally led them to the universities to study. The stimulus which they gave stirred up almost all the chief universities of Europe. At first they had their own schools privileged by the Pope. In Oxford, for instance, they erected their own buildings and en- gaged their own lecturers. Their first lecturer was Robert Grosseteste, afterwards the famous Bishop of Lincoln. After him came Adam Marsh, an eminent English theologian. These schools, set on foot by the Franciscans, produced a great effect upon the rest of the university system, an effect not entirely for good. There grew up a sort of rivalry between them and the university, and at Paris this rivalry led to very serious quarrels. In England also there were many struggles, because the friars, owning no authority but that of the Pope, claimed to settle their own course of education, and to have the university degrees given to them on their own terms. They claimed the Divinity degree without being obliged to go first through the Arts course, and in the long run to a great extent they had their own way. Their desires were of course contrary to our notion of the advis- ability of a broad preliminary training, before any special science is made the sole object of pursuit. THE FRIARS 109 But still, at the universities the friars produced the great intellectual leaders of the century. Thomas Hales, a Franciscan friar, was the teacher of Bona- ventura and of Duns Scotus. Of the great schoolmen whom the two orders of friars produced, the chief among the Dominicans was Thomas Aquinas, and the chief among the Franciscans was Bonaventura. These two men, being contemporaries, naturally raised the repute of the friars to such a height, that it was im- possible for the universities to make head against them. But it was noticeable that from the very be- ginning there were two great tendencies in the Fran- ciscan Order, one being represented by Bonaventura, who was a Platonist and a mystic, and the other by Duns Scotus and Occam, who were strongly ration- alistic and sceptical in tendency. Strange as it may seem, both these tendencies had their root in Francis himself. He was a mystic in sentiment, but always exceedingly critical of the ecclesiastical system, and in favour of individual liberty in thought and life. He may be said to have been at once a mystic and a freethinker, and, unconsciously to himself, to have made a compromise between the two. The Francis- can Order, all through its history in mediaeval times, bore traces of these two sides of its founder's character. It was through Thomas Aquinas that the Domini- cans chiefly influenced thought and learning, and his influence was enormous. He may be said to have been the great organiser of the theology of the mediaeval Church. He carried the spirit of Do- minic into the region of theological speculation. He was the organiser and arranger of all that had been no HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES thought about theology before his time, and he formed a massive structure which it was exceedingly difficult to attack. But not only did the friars influence learning, they also, and especially the Franciscans, largely influenced politics. The conception of individual freedom upon which the life of St. Francis was built went far to instil the idea of civic freedom into men's minds. This influence is most clear in England, where Grosse- teste and Adam Marsh were the friends and teachers of Earl Simon de Montfort, and it is not too much to say, that it was their influence which converted Simon from a wild and reckless adventurer into an English patriot. It was the ideas of the friars that found expression in the Barons' War. Anybody who wishes to go further into this subject will find these ideas expressed in the interesting " Song of the Battle of Lewes," a political poem composed at the height of Simon's power. We read it with wonder, because the political conceptions and ideas which it expresses seem to apply rather to the revolution of 1688 than to these early days. The song set forth unmistak- ably the conception of the official position of the King, and affirmed the right of his subjects to re- move evil counsellors from his neighbourhood, and to remind him of his duty ideas due to the political influence of the Franciscans. But if there was a good side to the political in- fluence of the friars, we must not forget that there was also a bad side. The Papacy laid hold of the new Orders for its own interests. Besides being mission preachers, philanthropists, men of learning, THE FRIARS the great teachers of the people, the friars were also used as the flying squadron of the Papacy. Never were allies more useful. They had for the area of their influence the whole of Europe. Never before had the means of communicating ideas been so easy as they became in the days of the wandering friars. As he went from place to place, the friar would sit at the door of the ale-house in the little village, gossiping and retailing his news to the villagers. He was, in fact, the newspaper as well as the preacher of those whom he visited. In all ways the power of these Orders was enormous, and there can be no doubt that it was largely owing to their influ- ence that the Papacy won in the long struggle with the Hohenstaufen ; for they enabled the Popes to break down the existing ecclesiastical system of Europe. Before their rise, the papal interference with the powers of the bishops had been bad enough, but after the coming of the friars, there was papal inter- ference with the old organisation of the Church on every side. The Orders of the Friars, and conse- quently all the individual members of those Orders, were very soon exempted from episcopal control by papal bulls. They were at liberty to go wherever they liked, carrying with them portable altars for their celebrations of Holy Communion, preaching and hearing confessions, whether the parish priests liked it or not. As a matter of fact, the parishioners pre- ferred making their confessions to a wandering friar who knew nothing of their lives, to going to their parish priest who knew everything ; it was easier to obtain absolution. The result was the entire destruc- ii2 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES tion of the mechanism of the discipline of the Church. By means of the friars, the Popes entirely upset the control of the bishops, and in consequence the bishops tended to become more and more merely secular personages, so entirely were they robbed of any ecclesiastical jurisdiction. The organisation of the parish fell in pieces, because it was cut through and through by these prowling friars. Sometimes the clergy of the Church of England are tempted to think that if they could be as the parish priests were before the Reformation, and were free of the presence of the dissenting minister, they would get on very well. Never was there a greater delusion ; for the friars were far more destructive to ecclesiastical juris- diction than any Nonconformist body could be at the present day, to the influence of any sensible clergy- man. Another point to be considered is the influence of the friars upon literature. They may be said to have initiated an entirely new departure in Italian literature, and therefore in the literature of Europe. Before their time, the poetry of the troubadours had developed into the philosophic treatment of ideal love which Dante has immortalised in his Vita Nuova. But that motive was in time entirely worked out, and the new motive of the popular poetry came from the Franciscans. It is to be traced in many directions, but especially in hymns. That great hymn, the " Dies Irae," was the work of a Franciscan, Thomas of Celano. Jacopone da Todi, the greatest of the Franciscan poets, poured forth his verses in a way which stirred the minds of all who heard him ; no one could have been more simple THE FRIARS 113 and his poetry was the very expression of emotional religion. Once he was seen weeping, and on being asked why he wept, he answered : " I weep because Love is not loved ". These words express the mean- ing of the whole of Jacopone's life and poetry, the most intense, personal, passionate love towards his Master. It was this emotional poetry which struck an entirely new note in Italian and, consequently, European literature. In art, the influence of the friars was even more felt. First, in architecture they modified, or even entirely changed the conception of a church, which, in their opinion, was meant to be not a place for pageantry on special occasions, but mainly a preach- ing house. The original form of the friars' church was a building without aisles, with a long nave, short transepts and a very shallow choir ; the side altars were placed in the transepts, so that the whole body of the church was available for preaching. It was covered with a flat roof, which was supposed to be good for sound, and only the chancel had a vaulted roof In painting also, with the Franciscan move- ment came an enormous development of the power of articulate expression. Those who would under- stand the art of Italy, and its motive in painting the different scenes chosen from the life of our Lord, must read the Meditation of Bonaventura on the Life of Christ. The whole school of Siena simply carried out the human and intimate motive which Francis had introduced into his teaching ; the painters were the exhibitors and setters forth of the Franciscan method. 8 ii4 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES Thus through Francis there came a great popu- lar reform. That reform consisted first in popular preaching, and that brought about a plain intelligible Christianity. Further it wrought exactly the political work which the times required. The problem of the time was what to do with the middle classes. Francis gave the answer. The middle classes had seemed to be growing up without Christianity, but the friars carried it directly home to them again. The burgher class was recognised by Church and State alike, for Francis influenced the State through the Church, and brought much greater harmony between them than had seemed possible. His ideal was an ideal of peace and morality. In nature Francis saw God, and he taught men also to see God in nature, and there- fore he gave a new impulse to his time. The lead- ing characteristic of the best minds before Francis was contemplation ; after Francis, it would be true to say that creation took the place of contemplation. The importance of this change was great. The Re- naissance, which we are accustomed to speak of as marking a new epoch, was not a primary movement. Francis contributed much to it. He gave the Gospel and nature. Humanism added the study of anti- quity. The contents and character of the movement came from Francis, the Humanists added its form. The revived art was Christian, and remained Christian so long as the influence of the Franciscans lasted. But, as time went on, the reformation brought about by the influence of the friars was swallowed up and lost, so true is it that the vivifying influence of the individual loses its force when diffused among the mass of the THE FRIARS 115 community. When the impulse given by Francis was centralised, and subjected to the Papacy, it produced a rigid theology and those very men who had been the friends of the people came to be regarded as their greatest oppressors. Nothing could be in greater conr trast than the joy with which we read the people of England welcomed the first friars, and the language with which Chaucer speaks of the wandering friar who was the pest of the neighbourhood. So it is with all the best efforts of men. There comes a time, when any particular mode of speaking the truth loses its force, and becomes a habit instead of being a spirit, and then it decays. No tongue spoke to Europe be- tween the time of Francis and Luther, and the fate of these two men, between whom an instructive com- parison might be drawn, marks the change that came over Europe in the interval. Francis gave an impulse which could be welcomed, for the Church was still a living body and could listen to a new voice. But Luther arose to speak to a Church which could find no place for him ; and therefore his message to the world was not spoken with the gravity and dignity of peace and quietness, but had to be disfigured by the harsh blast of controversy, and tarnished by the tumult of the fray. 8* BISHOP GROSSETESTE AND HIS TIMES. 1 I. I WISH to bring Grosseteste before you as a typical Englishman, an example of that quality for which his countrymen have always been conspicuous I mean devotion to duty at all costs and in spite of every kind of difficulty. Besides this, Grosseteste was not only a man of learning, but he illustrates a very important period of English history, a period with marked characteristics of its own. Still, to me the great interest of his life lies in the fact that he earnestly tried to do his duty, to speak and to act in defence of truth and righteousness, during a life spent amidst difficulties and quarrels that were not of his own seeking. The period in which he lived is one of exceptional interest, because it was then that the Papacy exercised its greatest influence in England. I will not enter into the question of the origin of the papal power ; it is enough at present to say that it rested upon a noble idea, upon a conception of Europe as one common- wealth, and the Church as a Universal Church under one earthly and visible head. To this conception of a united Europe, national feeling was entirely 1 A course of lectures delivered in St, Paul's Cathedral in Nov- ember, 1895. 116 BISHOP GROSSETESTE AND HIS TIMES 117 secondary. Nations existed, it is true, but these nations were to regard themselves, and to be regarded, as part of the European commonwealth. This ideal system rested upon a desire for a higher order of things than men could then hope to realise in their immediate surroundings. Laws were rudimentary, society was but imperfectly developed. Men were conscious that the powers that ruled the State suffered under many limitations. True, they existed for the common good ; the laws represented the common- sense of the people, but the officers who had to carry out the laws frequently overruled them, and the princes who represented the community cannot in any way be said to have done so adequately. There is always a desire for some check upon the un- authorised exercise of power. In our age the most potent check is public opinion ; and it was just this desire to get public opinion represented as well as possible, that made men welcome the papal authority. People sometimes waste a great deal of time and pains in explaining away the papal power as being the result of all kinds of sacerdotal intrigues and usurpations, when, as a matter of fact, the Papacy came into exist- ence and was generally accepted because it represented what people wanted. There never has been a power which could claim more entirely to rest upon public opinion than could the papal power at its best. This theory of a great spiritual power guarding over truth and righteousness in every part of Christendom was a splendid idea ; only the pity of it was that it was so rapidly lost sight of. At the time when Grosseteste began to take part in n8 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES public affairs, the great Pope Innocent III. was at the height of his power. He was a man of splendid poli- tical genius, who used his authority for righteousness in almost every country in Europe, as we know he had occasion to use it in England. Certainly Innocent III., in the exercise of his authority, was helped by the character of the princes with whom he had to deal. In England, John was one of the worst of kings. When he found things going against him, he made his submission to the papal See, resigning the whole kingdom into the hands of the Pope, and re- ceiving it back again as a papal fief. To us that seems an extraordinary arrangement to have made, but it was not so very extraordinary to the men of those times. It is curious to note that though subse- quent historians speak of it as a shameless act, there is no contemporary historian who speaks of it as shameless at all. It was in fact the recognition of a claim which fitted in very well with the political conceptions of the time. The only conceptions of authority which then prevailed were conceptions drawn from the feudal system. It was considered that every- body must have a superior over him. The villain had his lord, the lord had his over-lord, the over-lord had the king over him. Every one was bound together in a graduated hierarchy of rank. But when the king was reached, there arose the question, who was lord over him ? The only answer that could be given was that the king depended upon the Pope. So that all that happened in the case of John was that this theory was carried into practice, and the definite act did not at the time call forth very much criticism. On John's BISHOP GROSSETESTE AND HIS TIMES 119 submission, the Pope supported him against the barons, who, however, did not give way in their opposition to the King, and it is very doubtful whether the Pope would have been able to save the kingdom for John. Fortunately John died at this time, and the accession of the young Henry paved the way for peace. During the minority that followed, England was practically ruled by the Pope through his legates. The Pope recognised Henry as in a special sense a pupil and orphan left to the charge of the Apostolic See, and Henry himself afterwards accepted this position. The first of these papal legates was Gualo, who practically ruled England with uncontrolled power, going into all kinds of details, even inquiring by direction from Rome into the sanitary condition of the cathedral close at Salisbury. The Pope went so far as to direct the next legate, Pandulph, to override the decision of a court of law, and to proceed as if no order of the King's Court existed, a clear proof that the Pope considered his authority to be superior to the royal authority. All this was of course most galling to such men as Stephen Langton, Archbishop of Canter- bury ; and, as events turned out, it became manifest that it was impossible for any person living at Rome, however exalted and however good his intentions, to interfere with advantage in the affairs of a country like England. Grosseteste was born in 1175 at Stradbroke, in Suffolk, of humble parentage. In after years a noble- man once asked him how he had managed to gain his courtly manner, and Grosseteste's reply was to the effect that he had from his early years studied no HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES in the Holy Scriptures the manners of the best men. He seems as a lad to have been distinguished by his thirst for knowledge. He was first a student at Oxford, and afterwards, as was customary in those days, he went to study in Paris. He then returned to Oxford, and some years later was appointed rector of the schools, an office equivalent to that of vice- chancellor at present. From that time he was marked out for ecclesiastical preferment, and soon held in turn various archdeaconries. But it was the coming of the Franciscans to Oxford that gave the great impulse to Grosseteste's life. The rise of the Franciscan friars was one of the greatest reforming movements in the Church. It was the first definite movement that had been made for centuries to carry the truths of the Gospel directly home in a practical shape to the hearts and minds of simple folk. The Franciscans began by living and teaching among simple people ; but they soon found that they could not teach even simple folk unless they studied themselves. Hence their settlements in such universities as Oxford, where Grosseteste was their first lecturer. Between Grosse- teste and the leader of the friars there was the closest friendship, and his connexion with the Order had a marked effect on his later years. The next thing we hear of Grosseteste is that he was making arrangements for a pilgrimage to Rome in 1232, but he had to put it off for fear of the ill-feel- ing which existed in Rome against the English, in consequence of their ill-treatment of Roman priests resident in England. The fact was that the encroach- ments and extortions of the Papacy had reached such BISHOP GROSSETESTE AND HIS TIMES 121 a pitch that at length an association was formed of " those who would rather die than be confounded by the Romans ". That was the real title of the society. It was a secret body, composed mostly of landowners who had resolved no longer to endure the exactions of the Pope. They wrote a circular letter to all the bishops and chapters in the country recounting the evils that arose from the preferment of so many foreign ecclesiastics in England, and ended by say- ing, " A man who kindly wipes our noses draws blood," a remark which they applied to the situation. They stated that they would stand it no longer, and warned the bishops and other authorities not to interfere with what they were about to do. In consequence great terror prevailed among the foreign ecclesiastics in England. A few of them were seized and im- prisoned, and in 1232 a general attack was made on the barns of the Roman priests throughout the country, and the corn found in them was either de- stroyed or given to the poor. The leader of this movement was a Yorkshire knight, the patron of a living which had been taken possession of by a foreign priest. It was these circumstances which deterred Grosseteste from making his pilgrimage to Rome. Moreover, a violent fever seized him at this time. When he recovered he resigned all his offices except his prebendal stall at Lincoln. In acting thus, he was regarded by his friends as having committed an act of incredible folly ; but he said that he did not think it right to hold more offices than one. Grosseteste continued to teach quietly at Oxford till 1235, when he was elected by the Chapter of 122 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES Lincoln to be their bishop instead of Hugh of Wells, Just about this time a new archbishop of Canterbury had been elected. The intrigues and delays over his appointment show that this was no more than any other a halcyon time when the Church enjoyed perfect liberty of action, and was free from State interference in the election of her chief bishops. Edmund of Abingdon, the new archbishop, was a man exceed- ingly fit in many ways for his high post, but he was not strong enough in character to face all the difficulties by which he was beset. No sooner was he elected, than the monks of Canterbury began to quarrel with him, and things were so disturbed that Grosseteste was not consecrated at Canterbury, but at Reading. He was nearly sixty years old when he became Bishop of Lincoln. The pathetic interest of his episcopate lies in seeing how impossible it was in those days for an honest man to do his plain duty without being in- volved in constant difficulties. Grosseteste had a vast diocese to administer, consisting as it then did of the present sees of Lincoln, Peterborough, Oxford and part of Ely. Its enormous size arose from the fact that it represented the old kingdom of Mercia. Dis- orders and abuses were everywhere prevalent. They were mainly connected with questions concerning the right of presentation to livings, and the treatment of ecclesiastical benefices as simply of so much money value. Grosseteste steadfastly refused to institute improper or illiterate persons, and wrote indignantly to the patrons who nominated such men. He directed his archdeacons to put down all games that led to drinking bouts and bloodshed, and particularly to put BISHOP GROSSETESTE AND HIS TIMES 113 an end to feasting at funerals. The use of churches and churchyards for fairs was also forbidden ; it had been the custom often to hold fairs in the church- yards and to erect booths in the churches themselves. Further, the archdeacons were ordered to forbid and prevent private marriages, and to warn women against the careless way in which mothers overlaid their children at night. They were also to reprove priests who demanded fees for the administration of the sacraments, sometimes even for the administration of the Holy Communion. That Grosseteste should have found it necessary to lay down rules about such very elementary matters as these is certainly remark- able, and shows on how many sides abuses had crept into the English Church, and what need there was for a rigorous authority to put them down. BISHOP GROSSETESTE AND HIS TIMES. II. THE worst difficulties which beset Grosseteste at the beginning of his Episcopate concerned the dis- tribution of patronage. It will be worth while to say a few words on this question a question which still troubles us at the present day, and about which things are said which are by no means always accurate. Patronage in England has had a curious history. It would seem that in early times the building of churches and their endowment was almost entirely the doing of the landowners. The great landowner of a district would build a church for his people and endow a priest to serve it. In consequence, the right of presentation and the right also of deprivation were absolutely vested in the landed proprietor. Feudalism of course accentuated the sense of proprietorship, and it needed a great many ecclesiastical councils and canons to modify it. But in the twelfth century it became established, at all events as a principle, that the right of the patron was not an absolute right, but a right annexed to a spiritual office. The power of the patron was limited to choosing a man for the office, provided that that man was a fit and proper person to appoint. The bishop had the right of refusing the man so nominated, should 124 BISHOP GROSSETESTE AND HIS TIMES 125 he not be fit for the office, and therefore in a sense the right of the patron was no longer absolute. He might present, but his presentation did not hold good until it was accepted by the bishop. After many struggles this position was accepted by the great lords in England. But just as the bishops had suc- ceeded in asserting their claim to supervise the nominations of patrons, the Pope, when he took pos- session of England as a papal fief, claimed absolutely to override the rights of the episcopate. In other words, no sooner did the Church of the land make good its spiritual position than that spiritual power was at once ruined by papal interference. The local patron had begun by regarding the right of presenta- tion merely as a piece of property, but at the very moment when an attempt was made to rectify this abuse, in stepped the Pope, and treated it again as property, the only difference being that it became property which had passed from lay hands to his own. He, in fact, claimed the right of appointing to any benefice, overriding the rights of patrons, giving the benefices to whom he would, chiefly to Italians and other foreigners, who seldom, if ever, resided on their benefices. Now Grosseteste was resolved to prevent improper presentations to livings, whether on the part of patrons, or on the part of the Pope, and the chief energy of his reforming activities at the beginning of his episcopate was directed to this end. Even before he was con- secrated, he was asked to confirm the appointment of a man presented to him, who was in bearing a lay- man, and looked more like a soldier than anything 126 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES else. In this case the patron was a monastic body. Very soon afterwards we find Grosseteste refusing a number of presentations. Amongst these was a minor, a boy who hardly knew his letters, and Grosseteste remarked that he would as soon allow a paralytic to take the helm in a storm as to institute such a one to a cure of souls. At the same time, he expressed his willingness to make the boy an annual payment of ten marks to enable him to continue his studies until such time as he would be more fit for the orifice. To another patron, Grosseteste sent the answers made at his examination, by the man whom he had presented, in proof of his entire unfitness for the post. Grosseteste also attempted to remedy another abuse, that of a beneficed priest letting out his benefice to a monastic body to be farmed by them. The farming out of livings was very convenient to foreigners. They let their lands to a monastery at a fixed rent, and the monastery made what profit they could out of the bargain. We find Grosseteste refusing the request of the papal Nuncio to allow a certain man to put his living out to farm, on the ground that it would not be for the advantage of the living or the benefit of the place ; moreover, he said, religious bodies ought to preach contempt of the world in all that they did, but by their farming of lands they preached the exact contrary, to the great danger of religion and the loss of souls. The Nuncio answered by threatening him, and telling him that everybody would be astonished by such conduct, which was quite unprecedented. Grosseteste replied that he could not act contrary to the dictates of his conscience. BISHOP GROSSETESTE AND HIS TIMES 127 Grosseteste had also to deal with an application about a case of appropriations, which was a way of founding a monastery cheaply. When a landowner wished to establish a monastic body on his land, it had been found possible to endow an abbey cheaply by handing over to it a church already in existence, on condition that the monastery undertook to look after the parish. Thus, the Abbot of Tewkesbury went to Grosseteste to consult him about the church of Great Marlow, to which he wished to appoint a youth be- longing to a noble house, who would in turn let out the lands of the church in farm to the abbey. Grosse- teste refused the request, but felt obliged to make some little compromise in the matter. Another point which very much disturbed Grosse- teste all through his episcopate was the appointment of clerics to be itinerant justices. No doubt clerics were better educated than laymen in those days, and it was on that account that the King frequently ap- pointed them to be justices of assize. On the Abbot of Ramsey being appointed to such an office, Grosse- teste wrote to the King, pointing out that it was contrary to the Abbot's vows, and that no one who had taken such vows ought to pass a capital sentence. At the same time, Grosseteste wrote to Archbishop Edmund urging him to take the matter up. The Archbishop was a good, learned and pious man, but he was weak, and he wished to defer the question to a council. On all sides we find Grosseteste interfer- ing to put down evil customs. He tried to persuade the Dean and Chapter of Lincoln to put down the Feast of Fools which occurred yearly in the cathedral 128 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES itself; and, at his first visitation, he removed seven abbots and four priors, and generally struck terror whilst he inspired respect. In 1237, affairs in England were in such a bad way that Henry III. in his perplexity turned to the Pope for advice and asked for a legate. In spite of the remonstrances of the Archbishop, Otho was sent as legate. The English clergy and people objected most strongly, and complained that the King had brought in a legate to change the State. At first, in face of so much opposition, Otho was conciliatory, and acted in a way that was beneficial to English interests. He came also bringing reformed constitu- tions for the English Church. The decrees of the last Lateran Council held in 1215 had not been promul- gated in England, and Otho, at a council held in London, took the necessary steps for their promulga- tion. These constitutions show what great laxity existed in the Church. For instance, they ordained that all churches were to be consecrated within two years of their foundation. It would seem that churches were built and used without any thought of their ever being consecrated, or even dedicated. It was also ordained that priests demanding fees for sacraments were to be deprived, that churches were not to be farmed, that no one was to be inducted or instituted to a living who was not at least in deacon's orders, and ready to be ordained priest. Residence was enforced and pluralities were denounced ; clerical attire was ordered to be worn, and the married clergy were to be deprived. Ecclesiastical preferment was not to pass from father to son. That tendency was BISHOP GROSSETESTE AND HIS TIMES 129 probably one great reason why the lay temper was in favour of clerical celibacy. It is remarkable to note that an objection was raised to the attempt to abolish pluralities. Walter de Cantelupe, Bishop of Worcester, maintained that the holding of several benefices was an old custom, and he saw no reason why it should be abolished. He clearly held the view that clerical benefices were property, and consequently that any- thing which tended to diminish the value of that property ought to be resisted. Walter de Cantelupe also objected to a provision regulating the diet of monks, and prescribing that they were not to eat meat on more than four days in the week. He seems to have regarded the rule as part of a general system for regulating monasteries, and he felt that as monas- teries became regulated, they became more and more centralised and more and more dependent upon Rome, and therefore anti-national. However, Cantelupe was apparently overruled and all the constitutions were passed. When these constitutions were passed, Grosseteste sent them out into his diocese, promulgated them on all sides, and made a visitation in accordance with them. In the course of this visitation, he found it necessary to consecrate the three great churches of Ramsey, Sawtrey and Peterborough. How difficult any reform of the abuses of the Church was is shown by the fact, that at the very moment of the promulgation of these constitutions, Grosseteste was brought into conflict with the legate, who wished to break his own constitutions and nominate a pluralist to a prebend in Lincoln Cathedral without consulting the Bishop. 9 130 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES Against this, Grosseteste loudly protested, pointing out that, when benefices were conferred by superior authority, without the consent of the patron, only troubles and scandals were likely to occur. The legate, however well he might behave, was un- popular in England. In 1238 he went to Oxford on a visit, and resided at Osney. Whilst there he was, as a foreigner, an object of ridicule to the students. They crowded to Osney to have a look at him and his household. On going into the kitchen they found a foreign cook, and mocked at him. In his anger the cook took up a ladle of soup and threw it over one of the students. The student retaliated by killing the cook. A riot ensued, and the legate had to flee. He complained to the King, and Henry sent orders to his officers to arrest and imprison thirty of the students, while at the same time the legate laid Oxford under an interdict and excommunicated the ringleaders. Grosseteste, as bishop of the diocese in which Oxford was situated, and being interested in all that occurred there, resented the imprisonment of the students and their excommunication ; and in his turn excommunicated all those who had laid hands on his clerks. So over this unhappy affair various jurisdictions were in conflict. The position was some- what difficult, but a compromise was at last devised. Otho removed his excommunication, the Oxford stu- dents came before him and apologised, the prisoners who had been taken by the King's orders were re- leased, and thereupon Grosseteste pardoned the King's officers and removed his excommunication. It was a natural consequence of his severity that BISHOP GROSSETESTE AND HIS TIMES 131 Grosseteste should have enemies who sought to cur- tail his power. Amongst the foremost of those who withstood him were the Dean and Chapter of Lincoln They did so on the ground that he had no right to visit them as they were an " exempt " jurisdiction. Grosseteste insisted that the right was inherent in his office and could not be abrogated. Accordingly he suspended the Dean, the Precentor and the Sub-dean from their offices, and announced that he was coming to visit the Cathedral. When he came he found no- body there to receive him. Grosseteste then proposed that the matter should be referred to the legate for settlement. The Dean and Chapter demurred. Then Grosseteste proposed certain arbitrators. That was agreed to, but it came to nothing ; and, in fact, the quarrel was never made up but lasted throughout the Bishop's life. The Chapter tried to bring the case be- fore the King's Court. Grosseteste was most indig- nant, and reproved them for trying to destroy the privileges of the Church by bringing a purely ecclesi- astical matter before a secular tribunal. Then the canons produced a forged document about the founda- tion and privileges of their church. They produced it publicly, but the forgery was detected as soon as the document was brought forward. This is a curious example of the great number of forged charters and documents that were manufactured by the monas- teries throughout the Middle Ages, from a desire to prove that their communities had possessed privileges from an earlier age than was actually the case. The dispute dragged on for several years, until Grosse- teste's patience was exhausted. 9* 132 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES In 1239 a great change came over the papal policy towards England. The Pope was at war with the Emperor Frederick, and though Frederick was Henry's brother-in-law, the Pope succeeded in dragging Henry after him into the struggle. Hitherto the Pope's authority had been used in England for the good of the country, but, from this time forwards, England was regarded by the Pope as a mere appanage of the papal See, which might be taxed and pillaged for papal purposes to any possible extent. Accordingly, at the beginning of 1240, the Pope issued an order to the Archbishop and the Bishops to provide for 300 Romans. It would seem that at that time the Pope's position was not very secure in Rome, and he wished to strengthen himself by providing 300 Romans with salaries at the expense of the Eng- lish Church. Whether Grosseteste carried out the order as far as his diocese was concerned or not is not known. He probably did nothing at all. It was a monstrous order of course, and the English justly re- sented it. The Archbishop was quite worn out with anxiety at seeing the Church robbed of its goods and deprived of its liberties. Grosseteste frequently wrote to him entreating him to take a stronger line. But the Archbishop's only desire was for peace. At last, realising how badly he was treated, deprived of his own due authority by the legate, and quite worn out with the troubles of the time, he went into exile at Pontigny, and there died, his last words being : " I have lived too long, for I see all things going to ruin. Lord God receive my soul." We can best appreciate Grosseteste by contrasting him with this Archbishop, BISHOP GROSSETESTE AND HIS TIMES 133 St. Edmund of Abingdon, who, though a pious and learned man, was quite unequal to the difficulties of the time ; whereas Grosseteste was the strong man who stuck to his post, battling against wrongs and abuses, and in spite of apparent failure, always uphold- ing what he believed to be right and true. About this time Grosseteste was involved in a quarrel with the King over an appointment to the prebend of Thame. He refused to institute the King's nominee on the ground that he was exempted from obeying the papal provisions. The proceedings of the papal Court were far too elaborate and compli- cated for me to be able to describe them here, but it would seem that the Pope was in the habit of issuing " provisions " for the appointment of foreigners in Italy and elsewhere to English benefices, but at the same time the Pope issued to English bishops " exemptions allowing them to disobey the ' provisions,' " if these documents contained no clause forbidding them to do so. It was a curious and complicated arrangement. Grosseteste refused to institute the nominee in ques- tion on the ground that he was exempted from obey- ing the Papal provision, and that the document presented to him contained nothing that did away with the exemption. The King was very wroth, and insisted on the appointment being made. But Grosse- teste threatened sooner to leave the country and to put his see under an interdict. This prospect was so terrifying that the King was induced to give way, and to make peace with the Bishop. Grosseteste was next engaged in a quarrel with the Abbot of Bardney, who was the head of a great 134 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES monastery in the diocese of Lincoln. The Archdeacon, seeing an opportunity of weakening the almost ponti- fical dignity of this Abbot, cited him before his court. Taking advantage of a technical blunder of the Arch- deacon's, the Abbot refused to appear. The Arch- deacon corrected his mistake, but the Abbot still refused to appear. Then the Archdeacon complained to the Bishop, Grosseteste summoned the Abbot to appear before him, and when the Abbot declined to do so, excommunicated him as contumacious. The Abbot took this very quietly, which made Grosseteste still more indignant, and he threatened to take severer steps. He sent lay visitors to bring the Abbot to submission, but the monks shut the doors in their faces and the porters drove them away. The visitors returned to Grosseteste and complained of the treat- ment they had received. Finding that matters were getting serious, the Abbot lodged an appeal which in the ordinary course of affairs would have gone to the archbishop of the province. But, at this time, the archbishopric was vacant, and the Abbot actually carried his appeal to the monks of Canterbury as being custodians of the temporalities of the see during the vacancy. It was an absurd thing to do, of course, but it answered the Abbot's purpose. Grosseteste was in great wrath, and solemnly deposed the Abbot of Bardney. Thereupon the monks of Canterbury, summoning fifty priests of the province, excommuni- cated Grosseteste and sent him a solemn letter signed with the archiepiscopal seal. When the Bishop re- ceived these documents he tore them in pieces, threw them upon the ground, and stamped on them, to BISHOP GROSSETESTE AND HIS TIMES 135 the amazement of the onlookers, who noticed the figure of St. Thomas upon the seal. Of course Grosseteste at once communicated with Rome, and Innocent IV. ordered the monks to withdraw their excommunica- tion, an order which filled Grosseteste with indignation, as it looked like a recognition of the monks' jurisdiction over him. It is a curious and interesting case, showing the perpetual hindrances and difficulties cast in the way of the exercise of episcopal authority by the innumerable subterfuges which could be raised at every turn. BISHOP GROSSETESTE AND HIS TIMES. III. I HAVE followed the difficulties in which Grosseteste found himself involved up to the year 1244. In that year he had a quarrel over a certain matter with the King, which is of interest in throwing light on the cus- toms of the times. The see of Winchester had been kept vacant for five years, in order that the King might enjoy its revenues during the vacancy. That of course was an object which the Crown had always more or less close to its heart ; it was not to its in- terest that disputed elections should be settled ; in fact the more difficulties were raised, the more the Crown liked it, because so long as a see remained vacant the Crown received its income. In 1238, Ralph de Neville, the Chancellor, had succeeded in getting him- self elected Bishop of Winchester, and because he knew that he was a very secular person, and not likely to be acceptable, he wrote to ask Grosseteste to help him to secure papal confirmation. Grosseteste declined to do anything of the kind, and advised Ralph de Neville to take no particular steps to secure his confirmation, but to leave it in the hands of God and accept whatever came of it. The Pope annulled the election at the King's request, as the 136 BISHOP GROSSETESTE AND HIS TIMES 137 King wanted to secure the see for the Queen's uncle, William of Valence. But the monks of Winchester, instead of electing William of Valence, now elected the Bishop of Norwich. The King was furious and was determined to vent his displeasure on the man who had dared to take the see contrary to his wishes. He proceeded to give orders that the offend- ing Bishop's revenues should be cut off both at Win- chester and Norwich, and when the poor man came to London, the King commanded the merchants and tradesmen of the city to have no dealings with him. The Bishop was practically outlawed, simply because he had ventured to accept the bishopric of Win- chester contrary to the King's wishes. Grosseteste when he heard of this was indignant, and gathering round him some of his brother prelates, went to remonstrate with the King, but the King fled in- continently, for he was not prepared to stand one of Grosseteste's lectures. In the meanwhile Henry sent a large sum of money as a bribe to the Pope to get him to deprive the Bishop. But the bribe was so palpable and barefaced that even the Pope had to refuse it, and the money was embezzled by the King's envoy. Grosseteste and his brother bishops ran the King down at last at Westminster, and Grosseteste gave him a piece of his mind and threatened to lay his Royal Chapel at Westminster under an interdict. Henry III. was very devout in his way. Once when going to visit St. Louis of France he went into every church on the line of his route, and had Mass said for him, so that he did not reach the King of France till late in the afternoon. On learning the 138 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES cause of the delay Louis gave orders that next time the King of England visited him the churches on his way were to be closed, so that Henry might not spend so much time in devotion. It is easily to be imagined, therefore, that the threat to place the Royal Chapel under an interdict was so terrible that the King im- plored Grosseteste to delay taking that step at least till an answer had been received from Rome. In the meantime, the Bishop of Winchester went over to France where he was welcomed by St. Louis, and a year or two afterwards the unhappy Henry gave way as he generally did. At this same time Grosseteste sent a circular letter to his archdeacons which contains some information of value, as it shows the low condition to which the Church was reduced. He complained that the priests did not say their hours, that they held services at times which did not suit their parishioners, that they were slothful, that they almost habitually kept con- cubines, that they took part in miracle-plays, that they haunted taverns and attended May-day festivities. Another characteristic of the parish priest was that he objected to the friars. Preaching by the parochial clergy had almost died out in England, indeed in mediaeval times it was perhaps a rare thing for a parish priest to preach. So it came about that the wandering friars found plenty of hearers when they went about preaching in the open air, like the Wesleyan preachers of later times. The secular clergy objected strongly to the coming of the friars into their parishes, and regarded themselves as suffering severely from their intrusion. A friar used to come into a parish without BISHOP GROSSETESTE AND HIS TIMES 139 leave asked or obtained, and hold what was practically a mission. He drew away the regular congregation from the parish church and quite upset the parochial organisation, hearing confessions and granting absolu- tion himself, and thus destroying all the discipline which the parish priest was trying to enforce. At the time I am speaking of the parish priests were really doing very little, so that at the first the work which the friars did was entirely to the good. But for all that the parochial clergy very much objected to them, and Grosseteste had to issue orders that the preaching of the friars should not be interfered with. Grosseteste had also to act as mediator between the friars and the older monastic Orders who were jealous of their growing influence. Henry III. was always in debt and was, in conse- quence, always making demands for money. In 1244 he made a pressing request for a subsidy, and the Council appointed a committee of twelve to consider the matter, of whom Grosseteste was one, and Simon de Montfort, the great Earl of Leicester, another. De Montfort and Grosseteste were great friends, and acted together in politics. They demanded that before the subsidy was granted, substantial changes should be made in the administration of the Government. The King tried to weary them out, but the committee was firm. At last the King produced letters from the Pope ordering the bishops to contribute to the King's necessities. Henry made this move in the hope of separating the laity and the clergy, but Grosseteste admonished the other prelates to stand by the lay lords in refusing the King, and the upshot of it all HO HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES was that the committee was disbanded without making any grant at all. In the same year there was another difficulty about a bishopric. Robert Passelewe, one of the King's favourites, contrived to get himself elected Bishop of Chichester. The object of the monks in electing him was to curry favour with the King, but it was generally felt that it was a disreputable appoint- ment, and the bishops of the province got Boniface, the Archbishop-elect of Canterbury, to ask Grosseteste to examine Passelewe. Grosseteste subjected him to a very severe examination, and reported that he was an unfit person to be a bishop, and accordingly the Archbishop of Canterbury declared the election void. At this time it seemed almost a matter of chance who appointed a bishop. Sometimes it was the King, some- times the Chapter or the monks, sometimes the bishops of the province and sometimes the Pope. In this case the bishops, after Passelewe's election had been de- clared void, proceeded to elect Richard de Wyche. When this matter was settled, Grosseteste set off for Lyons to see the Pope about his old quarrel with his Chapter. It is interesting to note that the journey took him no less than seven weeks. He was honour- ably received by the Pope and was present at the consecration of Boniface as Archbishop of Canter- bury. Grosseteste stated his case, and the Dean of Lincoln was present to state the case for the Chapter. Then a curious thing occurred. There was a dispute going on about the election to the See of Lichfield, and the Pope, at Grosseteste's request, appointed the Dean of Lincoln to the bishopric. We only know these facts, but they seem significant. It looks as if BISHOP GROSSETESTE AND HIS TIMES 141 the Dean of Lincoln had been induced to abandon the cause of the Chapter on condition that he received a nomination to the See of Lichfield, and that Grosse- teste was at the bottom of this not very creditable transaction. Grosseteste stayed at Lyons until he received the papal decision supporting him in all the points of his contention, save one, that concerning the oath of obedience to be taken by the prebends at their collation. To the chronicler, Matthew Paris, all this was exceedingly unpleasant. As a monk he was in favour of monastic privileges, and on this occasion he describes Grosseteste as one who was opposed to God and man, a very Ishmaelite, whose hand was against every man, and every man's hand against him, and he does not hesitate to affirm that Grosse- teste had procured the Pope's decision only after the outpouring of vast sums of money. That Grosseteste obtained the decision by bribery is not to be thought of, but he certainly strained every nerve to obtain it, and having obtained it, he returned to England. I am afraid that this visit to Lyons was a discredit- able incident in Grosseteste's life. The election of his dean to the bishopric of Lichfield has traces of a not very upright transaction ; and, moreover, it soon be- came obvious that Grosseteste felt that he had to pay something to the Pope for his complaisance. So he circulated among the English bishops a document asking that provision should be made for the expenses of Archbishop Boniface at his consecration, a docu- ment of which he himself had disapproved when asked by Boniface at Lyons to sign it. In the same year also there came a demand from the Pope for a 142 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES subsidy and Grosseteste supported the demand. But that was his last act of complaisance. He seems to have thought that now he had done enough in return for the decision he had gained against his Chapter We next find him refusing the King, who wished to compensate Robert Passelewe for the loss of the bishopric of Chichester by giving him a certain cure of souls. The King was indignant and applied to Arch- bishop Boniface to take the matter out of Grosseteste's hands and appoint over him ; so that Grosseteste had to write vehemently to the Archbishop and protest against any interference with his rights. Grosseteste next proceeded with his visitation and made it still more strict, even summoning before him notorious offenders amongst the laity. The laity remonstrated, and complained to the King, who ordered the sheriff of the county not to allow the laity to appear before the Bishop except in matrimonial and testamentary suits. The attempt to visit the laity was therefore checked. It was perhaps an excess of zeal on Grosseteste's part. Another case in which Grosseteste attempted to press his ecclesiastical power beyond due limits arose through a clerk whom he de- prived of his benefice for evil living. The clerk took no notice of the deprivation, and thereupon Grosseteste excommunicated him. The clerk still went on as if nothing had happened. Grosseteste complained to the sheriff. The sheriff did nothing, and so Grosse- teste excommunicated the sheriff. The sheriff com- plained to the King, and the King appealed to the Pope, who sent a rescript forbidding the royal officers to carry out the sentences of the spiritual courts. BISHOP GROSSETESTE AND HIS TIMES 143 In the course of his visitation Grosseteste found out that many of the monasteries had laid hold of lands belonging to parish churches, and used them for their own benefit, leaving the despoiled parishes very improperly provided with spiritual ministrations. Grosseteste was anxious to put down this abuse, and with that end in view he summoned the monks in his diocese to bring with them to his visitation all the title deeds they possessed, so that he might examine them, and satisfy himself that they held no lands in an illicit manner. The monastic Orders were naturally thrown into a great state of alarm by these proceedings, and, being rich bodies, they easily raised among themselves a large sum of money and at once sent off to Rome to obtain from the Pope orders to stop Grosseteste going on with his inquiry. Grosse- teste felt that he had received a check, and knew that he could make no way against the evil unless he too went and interviewed the Pope. Accordingly he went to Lyons where the papal Court was, but this time he did not find the Pope so amenable to his wishes as he had been before. The fact was that the longer Innocent IV. lived, the more political his aims became, and therefore he always grew more grasping in his desire for money. He had accepted bribes from the Hospitallers and the Templars, and Grosseteste soon discovered that he had no chance of obtaining a decision in his favour. On being dis- missed by the Pope he sighed and said in a half- audible voice, " Ah ! money, money, how infinite is thy power, most of all in the Court of Rome ! " The Pope happened to catch the words, and broke out i 4 4 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES into a violent passion against Grosseteste, asking him, " How many of your own household have you sought to ruin ? " It was an entirely unwarranted question, but Grosseteste could not answer it, and he retired from the Pope's presence exceedingly downcast. He stayed on at Lyons for a few weeks and employed himself in writing a sermon, which he gave to four of the cardinals to read, and one of them read it to the Pope. It was extremely outspoken, and gave a description of his own troubles, of what he was trying to do and of the difficulties placed in his way. He gave an account of the evil condition of the Church, and proceeded to inquire what was the cause of it all. His answer to this question was that the cause of the evils was the Court of Rome, not only because it did not put these evils to flight, but still more because it appointed to the cure of souls before the eyes of angels and of men those who were not true pastors but slayers of men, and the doings of the papal Court became an example to all others who had the patron- age to bestow. He went on to enumerate how the existing evils were encouraged by the Papacy ; first be- cause persons were exempted from the jurisdiction of bishops ; secondly, because the secular powers, taking courage from the behaviour of the Pope, would not permit inquiry into the conduct of lay folk ; thirdly, because of the constant appeals to Rome, and the subtleties of the lawyers. An outspoken document like this did not help Grosseteste's cause at the papal Court. He returned to England, as the chronicler says, " sad and empty," even thinking seriously of resigning his see. BISHOP GROSSETESTE AND HIS TIMES 145 In 1252 Henry III. again demanded a subsidy, which Grosseteste resisted until the King should give promise of amendment. This suggested promise now took a definite shape. Those who wished for better government demanded that the King should take an oath to observe the provisions of the Great Charter. A solemn service was held in which the King swore to keep the Great Charter, and then all the bishops present, each holding a lighted candle in his hand, solemnly excommunicated all who should violate the Charter. The King was asked to take a candle himself, but he tremblingly refused. Grosseteste was persuaded that he did not mean to keep his vow, and ordered the excommunication to be repeated at Lincoln. He was determined to throw the weight of the Church on the side of good government. In that same year he made an inquiry into the incomes drawn by foreign ecclesiastics from English benefices. He discovered that there was sent out from England every year no less a sum than 70,000 marks, equal to about 1,150,000 of our money ; while the royal revenue for secular pur- poses did not amount to a third of that sum. This gives some notion of the way in which the papal Court pillaged England and drained it of its wealth for its own political purposes. Next came the event which made Grosseteste most famous. In the last year of his life he received a papal mandate to institute to a benefice one of the Pope's nephews, Frederick de Lavagna. Grosseteste refused to accept the nomination, and wrote a letter to the Pope on the subject in language to which the Pope was very little accustomed. There could not, 10 146 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES he argued, be any kind of sin so hateful, detestable and abominable to our Lord Jesus Christ as to destroy souls by depriving them of the ministry of their pas- tors. To appoint foreigners who could not speak the language of the people, or those who could not or would not minister properly among them, was to de- prive the people of shepherds. The power of the Apostolic See was given for edification and not for destruction, and the Pope could not lawfully order such men to be instituted to benefices. It was the duty of all faithful subjects of the Apostolic See to oppose such unlawful acts ; and therefore, by virtue of the obedience and fidelity due from him to the Holy Father, he must refuse to obey, and must resist and oppose the orders contained in his Holiness's letters, because they evidently tended to that which was a most abominable sin against our Lord Jesus Christ, to that which was pernicious to the human race, alto- gether opposed to the sanctity of the Apostolic See, and contrary to the Catholic faith. The Pope's in- dignation at such a letter exceeded all bounds, but the cardinals about him pointed out that it would not be expedient to take any extreme steps against Grosseteste, who was held in great esteem in Eng- land and France as a learned philosopher, a professor of theology, a preacher to the people and a lover of chastity and godliness ; popular sympathy was sure to be with him and against the Pope. Grosseteste's end was fast approaching. On his deathbed he was very much troubled at the thought of the difficulties of the times, and could not dis- guise from himself that he was rapidly drifting into BISHOP GROSSETESTE AND HIS TIMES 147 opposition to the Pope's commands on conscientious grounds. His last words were a recapitulation of the evils that the Pope had brought upon England, and an exhortation to those about him to fight against them ; to him the future seemed fraught with perils. He said, " Nor shall the Church be freed from its Egyptian bondage save by the bloody sword " ; a saying that was afterwards regarded as a prophecy, because in three years' time the Barons' War broke out, and England was plunged in civil strife. Some years later application was made for Grosseteste's canonisation, but this was not granted ; he had spoken too strongly against the abuses of the Roman See. I have spoken about Grosseteste mainly in his capacity as a reformer. But he was also the most learned man of his time and exerted a great influence on English literature. For the next two centuries there was scarcely a single writer of note who was not affected by him. The number of Grosseteste's writings is very large. He wrote on subjects con- nected with canon law, theology, agriculture and education. He occupied a really great place in the history of English science and knowledge. By his personal character, even though he was sometimes impetuous and harsh, he yet exercised great influence over men. In spite of his many quarrels with him Henry III. loved him, and no one seems to have cherished any personal dislike of him. He was the great friend and advocate of Simon de Montfort, and so long as he lived, his influence restrained Simon's impetuous temper, which became only too apparent after Grosseteste's death. 10* 148 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES Grosseteste's life is an illustration of the difficulties which the circumstances of the time threw in the way of any honest attempt really to govern the Church. Grosseteste, devoted to the existing ecclesiastical system as he was, an absolutely devout son of the Pope, yet was driven in spite of himself into anta- gonism to that system. My object in these lectures has been to show the Papal system at its best and to point out how rapidly it deteriorated. Grosseteste was a strong man, who tried to express the English spirit of resistance to what was wrong, and we have seen how he was thwarted at every step he took towards reform, and that by the very power whose work it was to govern the Church. It is in vain to draw, as some nowadays try to draw, a line of dis- tinction between the spiritual supremacy of the Pope and his actual jurisdiction. Jurisdiction naturally follows from supremacy. If we grant spiritual supre- macy and unlimited power, is it possible to define either the contents or the limits and restrictions of that power ? This was the difficulty that con- fronted Grosseteste. But he could only feel justified in revolting when the demands made upon his con- science became intolerable. He was really the last of the great English churchmen ; those who came after him had the picture of his life before them as a warning. The spirits of the bishops who followed him were broken ; they simply tried to make the best of a servitude which appeared to be inevitable. THE ENGLISH CHURCH IN THE REIGN OF ELIZABETH. A LECTURE GIVEN AT THE CHURCH HOUSE ON 2gTH APRIL, j.896. 1 IF I were to attempt to deal in any detail with the large subject which I have proposed to treat, it would be impossible, in the short space of an hour's lecture, to say anything that could be of use. Probably it will be best for me at once to make clear what I intend to talk about. I am not going into such points as the question of Barlow's consecration or the Nag's Head fable. My interest in history lies rather in the broad lines of human progress, and the question which I wish to consider is whether what happened in England with regard to ecclesiastical matters in the sixteenth century was progress or not. I want to consider exactly what did happen then to the Church of England, what were the varying forms which it assumed, and above all what were its relations to the Romanists and the Nonconformists. Let me first of all explain what took place at the Reformation. A great external change came over England in the sixteenth century. That change really 1 This lecture was delivered at the request of the Parochial Church Committees in the rural deaneries of Westminster, 149 150 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES included three things, each of which should be con- sidered by itself, though two of them have been signally overlooked. There was first, a great national revolution, which found expression in the resolute assertion on the part of England of its national inde- pendence. Secondly, there was a great social revolu- tion, which altered the main facts of English life ; and, thirdly, there was a great intellectual revolution con- sequent on the absorption of the New Learning into the national life. Each of these movements went on its own lines and should be studied by itself. The economic and social movement seen in the dissolution of the monasteries was one that had an existence of its own quite apart from the others, as is shown by the fact that Wolsey was engaged in dissolving monas- teries some years before there was any breach with the Papacy. Further, the great intellectual move- ment which was sweeping over Europe also went on its own lines ; it was only accentuated in England by being more frankly accepted there than elsewhere, and probably we should best explain the position of the Church of England if we were to call it " the Church of the New Learning ". The assertion of the national independence was however, no new thing. The sixteenth century only gave full expression to tendencies which had always been at work in England. There never was a time in England when the papal authority was not resented, and really the final act of the repudiation of that authority followed quite naturally as the result of a long series of similar acts which had taken place from the earliest times. It is mostly in relation to that last ENGLISH CHURCH IN ELIZABETH'S REIGN 151 event that the Reformation in England is judged. In itself it was a most momentous event in itself, for it need not have taken the form which it did. Though the English Church parted company with the papal jurisdiction, it was not the fault of the English Church that the relations which have subsequently existed between it and the Papacy have become what they are. A partnership may have had to be broken up ; the question is, whose fault was it if the two partners quarrelled and tried to cut one another's throats? I wish to speak about the form which the Anglican Church assumed in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. The whole process of what is called the Reformation would have gone on different lines had it not been for the two reactions which marked the reigns of Edward VI. and Mary. The abolition of the Roman jurisdic- tion in Henry VIII.'s reign was a purely political move- ment, affecting only the external relations of England. But side by side with it there was going on the intel- lectual movement of the New Learning, with all its disintegrating effects on the ideas of the time. Eng- land was the last country affected by this movement, and with the bluff common-sense that characterises them, the English proceeded immediately to apply practically the results of the criticisms made by the New Learning. " Now that we have found out," they said, " that so many of the things which we have been doing and thinking are simple nonsense, we are not going to retain them." Consequently, they simply put on one side all the outlying parts of the existing system which were no longer credible, though they were not without a certain value as belonging to the dominion 152 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES of the imagination, and adopted a straightforward system of ecclesiastical organisation and worship. This form was intended to be tentative; it was im- possible for it to have been otherwise. When a resolute effort is first made to recover forgotten truths, such an effort cannot be final. The ecclesiastical sys- tem was retained, no changes were made in the system of the Church. The services were only simplified, but everything necessary was kept. Men were free to discuss outlying matters, whether this or that form of ritual was more in accordance with the popular wish and sentiment, for they wished nothing to be kept in the way of ritual that had no meaning for the people. This was what men hoped to do in the reign of Henry VIII., and in this hope England was practically united. There was practically no opposition to the ecclesiastical changes that were made in the reign of Henry VIII. But at the beginning of every new movement people expect more from it than actually comes to pass. It was so specially in the sixteenth century. Men were convinced that so great was the power of intelligence and common-sense that, when once institutions had been explained and put on a common basis, they would be immediately accepted. The mistake of all reformers is that they do not suffi- ciently allow for the weight of traditional sentiment which lies behind old institutions. In consequence this movement did not get on as quickly as was de- sired. The purely intellectual and spiritual movement did not advance ; it was traversed by the political movement and also by the social movement. There were great difficulties in disentangling it from the ENGLISH CHURCH IN ELIZABETH'S REIGN 153 extraneous elements in which it was involved. The consequence was that there was a reaction in Edward VI.'s reign, due to foreign influence. Then some of the worst, the most incapable and the most selfish men who have ever governed England were prepared to loose the country from its old moorings and drive it into the stream of continental Protestantism. They were afraid that England, if it continued in its exist- ing position, judging, weighing, verifying without any violence, constantly making its appeal to common- sense and to the intellect, would not be able to main- tain itself against the Roman reaction. They con- sequently sought for it the strength which they thought might be gained by an alliance with German Protestantism. That attempt was politically disastrous ; it did not correspond with the wishes of the English people. The result was the reaction under Mary. The nation was afraid of the new forms of ecclesias- tical polity that might be invented, and so the very men who in Henry VIII.'s reign had been the fore- most in making changes now hastened to undo their work. Gardiner, who had to do with most of these changes, was thoroughly alarmed, and thought that the only safe course was to go back to the old state of things. But he felt that this could not be done entirely ; for he saw that the country, though it might be willing to accept again the old system, would never again submit to foreign interference. It is well known how his policy failed, how England was made the handmaid of Spain, and how the only way to the old state of things proved to be through persecution. In consequence Elizabeth had to accept an exceed- 154 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES ingly dubious and difficult heritage. Her position was entirely different from that of her two pre- decessors. She was welcomed by the people who looked upon her as a true heir of Henry VIII., one who, from her previous career, might be expected to carry out the policy of her father. But her task was made very difficult by the two reactions through which England had passed since Henry VIII.'s days. Let us consider some of the great difficulties which she had to face. I do not wish to speak of the legal and technical means by which the necessary changes had to be made. Elizabeth knew very well what she meant the Church to be. But between the schemes and the dreams of the wise and their actual realisation there is a great gulf fixed, and this at once became apparent. The violent changes through which the country had passed had seriously affected the charac- ter of the clergy. Many of them had lived through the times of Henry VIII. and then had changed first in one direction under Edward VI. and again in the other direction under Mary. They were not quite sure what opinions they held on ecclesiastical ques- tions, nor what opinions they were meant to hold. There had been so many changes that no man could feel sure of his final position. The work of estab- lishing order and organisation becomes exceedingly difficult when the officials into whose hands the work has to be committed are themselves absolutely be- wildered about what they have to do. It will be at once seen to what a state of dis- organisation the Church had been reduced at this ENGLISH CHURCH IN ELIZABETH'S REIGN 155 time if we realise the fact that the Archbishop of Canterbury, Pole, had died just about the time of Queen Mary's death, and that in that same year no fewer than nine sees became vacant through death, whilst many of the other bishops had either resigned or been deprived because they refused to take the oath of the Royal Supremacy. Consequently the bench of bishops had to be entirely remanned. That of course presented a very great difficulty. The material from which the bishops had to be chosen had greatly deteriorated. The quiet scholars of the past had all disappeared ; the most serious and learned men on either side had alternately been de- prived and taken refuge abroad, and they invariably returned from exile as violent partisans. It was indeed fortunate that there happened to be such a man as Parker. He was one of the few who had not fled from England, and had consequently not absorbed the theology and ideas of continental Pro- testantism. He saw that the best had to be made of the existing situation. Many people have written about the Elizabethan bishops and gibed at them. I do not hold a brief for them. They were of all kinds as bishops are in these days. To me the interesting thing in studying their history is to observe how they were educated by events. It is perfectly true, I admit, that the great mass of them accepted Anglicanism after they had been made bishops. The truth is that the pressure of circum- stances, the ideas and conceptions prevalent among the English people turned them into Anglicans al- most in spite of themselves. It was so, for instance, 156 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES in the case of Jewel. He was a learned theologian, strongly imbued with continental Protestantism when he returned to England, and a decided Calvinist But he grew out of his Calvinism and became one of the chief founders of Anglicanism, and one of the last things he did was to denounce the Puritans in lan- guage far stronger than any that Hooker ever used against them. So it was with most of the other bishops. The general mass of the clergy were of course as much disorganised as the bishops by the recent changes. Cecil, when accompanying the Queen on a progress through the eastern counties, exclaimed, " Here be many slender ministers and much naked- ness of religion ". Here was the Church and its formularies, but either there were no clergy or there were only clergy who did not know what to do. In some places they would not conform in various ways to Church order, refusing for instance to wear sur- plices ; the bishops did not know how to deal with heretics and schismatics ; everything was at sixes and sevens. Owing to the wave of iconoclasm that had passed over the country, many churches were reduced to ruins, and the difficulty of finding men who would conduct public worship in an orderly fashion was enormous. How were things to be put straight ? How were the difficulties to be met ? I frankly ad- mit that the form taken by Anglicanism largely arose from the desire to express the wishes of the English people so far as it was possible to do so. That simply and solely was the desire which prevailed. Seeing that England had succeeded in maintaining ENGLISH CHURCH IN ELIZABETH'S REIGN 157 its independence, in what form could the religious expression of the conscience of the English people be best organised, compatibly with the right organisation of the Church and the full maintenance of Catholic doctrine ? That was the problem which the English bishops and the English people had to solve with the inadequate material at their command. Things would have gone on much more rapidly had the English people been united. But the two reac- tions through which they had passed had left their mark upon them too, and that mark became more and more conspicuous as the new system was found not to work so well as it ought to have worked. This " slenderness of ministers and nakedness of religion " made people think that this separate Church of England, this Church which was to express the de- sires of the English people, could not last. Its basis seemed too narrow. If it were to last, men felt that it must be either a branch of violent, aggressive, icono- clastic Protestantism, which would break entirely with the past, or else it must be part of the old system with all its splendour and variety of traditions. It is easy to see how such ideas must have prevailed, and how inevitably the extremists on either side would tend to separate themselves off and struggle to bring about either of these results. The Calvinistic party did not in the least believe that the Church of England was scriptural. They felt that it must be swept away. However, they were Englishmen, and claimed their right as Englishmen to be members of the English Church, though they disregarded its formularies and paid no heed to its 158 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES Prayer-book, and took orders in the Church without any intention of being true to its system. They formed a very dangerous party, and were very diffi- cult to deal with. Those of them who were ordained were exceedingly good clergy, zealous when zeal was not common, and learned at a time when learning was not easy to find. Above all they went to the universities and got hold of the young men there. They were a very formidable party, and their en- deavour was to capture the Church of England entirely for themselves. The first thing to notice about this puritan party is that they were composed not of laity but of clergy, and the second is that they did not in the least desire to have tolerance for other opinions than their own. The general conception that prevails that the Puritans fought for freedom of opinion is an entire delusion. They wished to put down absolutely everything which they did not them- selves believe and approve of. They demanded, not toleration for themselves within the Church of Eng- land, but that they should be allowed to transform the Church of England into the likeness of their own ideas. The first question which the Puritans raised is one which carries us forward to the present day. It con- cerned vestments it is so thoroughly English to begin with that which is on the outside. It was said then, as it is said now, what did it matter what a man wore ? But the Puritans said that it did matter a great deal, that a garment must not be worn which had ever been worn by a Pope's priest, because it was like meat offered to idols, and that the moment it was com- ENGLISH CHURCH IN ELIZABETH'S REIGN 159 manded it ceased to be a matter of indifference. It must not, however, be supposed that it was only the sur- plice to which the Puritans objected ; their objection extended even to college caps, which for some reason or another were particularly obnoxious to them. The next question that arose was one of discipline. The Puritans wanted to impose their form of dis- cipline on the Church of England, and with this end in view they adopted the simple plan of turning church- wardens and sidesmen into Presbyterian elders, with the power of exercising discipline on the parishioners and of nominating to the patron the man whom he should appoint to a living. Their next move was a bold attempt to oust the Anglican clergy. To this day there exists in many town churches an after- noon lectureship, which is the result of a separate endowment got up by the Puritans for paying a man to preach in a black gown at the conclusion of the afternoon service. The lecturer used to bring his own congregation with him, who would ostentatiously wait outside the church until the conclusion of the service, holding meanwhile an animated discussion in the churchyard, and then when the parish clergyman had disappeared the lecturer would enter the church and deliver his sermon. Amongst the clergy, Archbishop Whitgift asserted discipline on a broad basis. He demanded of them the acceptance of three propositions : the Royal Supremacy, the acceptance of the Prayer-book, and that they should sign the Thirty-nine Articles. He summoned men before him and examined them as to these things. A great outcry was made against 160 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES Whitgift, and Cecil remonstrated with him, but the Archbishop persevered in his course. Strangely enough he showed more latitude with regard to puritan doctrine, and even drew up certain extra articles in a Calvinistic sense, but fortunately the Queen refused her consent to them. Elizabeth herself had an intuitive perception of what the English people were thinking and feeling which, in spite of her whims and her caprice, made her one of the most remarkable people of her age. She thoroughly understood the position of the English Church, as was to be seen in her action in regard to the Royal Supremacy. She did not attempt to re- vive Henry VIII. 's claim; she only took to herself the Royal Supremacy in the sense of a supreme jurisdiction within her realm. She told the Spanish Ambassador that all she meant by the proclamation of the Royal Supremacy was to make it clear that the Pope was not to be allowed to interfere in English affairs and rob the English people of their money. When the Pope proposed in 1561 to send a Nuncio to consult her about the part that England should take in the Council of Trent, she answered through Cecil that she would not refuse to allow the Pope the presidency of the Council, provided that he did not claim to be above the Council, but only its head. She demanded, however, that the English bishops, having been Apostolically ordained, should be ad- mitted to the Council as equals with the other bishops. This gives Elizabeth's view of the Church of England. People speak of the Laudian and Tractarian move- ments as if they brought up new views ; but here we ENGLISH CHURCH IN ELIZABETH'S REIGN 161 have the plain language of Elizabeth. Up to these conceptions she completely acted. A little while ago I was struck by a great authority on ecclesiastical law writing a letter to The Times newspaper to de- nounce the bishops. He ended his denunciation with the words, " O for an hour of Queen Elizabeth to deal with bishops like these ". I read his words with a gasp of surprise, for Queen Elizabeth would have had his head off in less than an hour, for the notion that he should write thus to the public press would have been in her eyes the most monstrous thing imaginable. She would not allow ecclesiastical matters to be discussed in Parliament, but reserved them for episcopal cognisance, and nothing could be done till the bishops were agreed on the course to be pursued. Elizabeth was continually telling Arch- bishop Parker to rule by his own authority, and she disliked giving State sanction to ecclesiastical matters. So far from Elizabeth interfering in ecclesiastical mat- ters and treating the bishops with contumely, there was no class in the community whom she treated with so much respect as the bishops. That she could be outspoken was true enough, but the records show that she was much more outspoken to other ministers and to courtiers than she ever was to her bishops. There is no story of her treatment of her bishops that has been so often repeated as a letter to the Bishop of Ely beginning, " Proud Prelate," and end- ing, " I will unfrock you ". But this supposed letter of Queen Elizabeth is an eighteenth-century forgery, which first appeared in The Gentleman s Magazine. There was no such letter ; it is a simple hoax which II 1 62 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES has succeeded in passing into serious history as a true fact. I have spoken about Queen Elizabeth's influence upon the Church of England, and about the way in which it grew into consciousness, through opposition to the Puritans ; but that growth was also assisted by the equally necessary opposition to the Romanists. As against them also the position of the Church of Eng- land was extremely difficult At first the Romanists were willing to take part in the English services, but after a time the Jesuits ordered them not to do so, and this course subjected them to persecution. The persecutions both of Puritans and Romanists under Elizabeth are greatly to be deplored, but her special difficulties must be remembered. The successor to the Crown was Mary Queen of Scots, who would with- out doubt have restored the old Church, brought in the powerful influence of the Guises, and involved England in continental politics. In behalf of Mary the Romanists were willing to take any steps whatever. But in speaking of the English Romanists I must draw a distinction. There were the Romanists who lived in England, a quiet, orderly and loyal people ; but there were also the Romanists who lived abroad, and who were desperate intriguers. The deterioration of the English character under foreign influences and when it became cosmopolitan was quite remarkable. It seemed as if an Englishman could not be taken from his native soil and transplanted elsewhere without deteriorating. The moral obliquity of the body of English plotters abroad, with whom the whole body of English Romanists are generally most unfairly ENGLISH CHURCH IN ELIZABETH'S REIGN 163 confounded, was something quite shocking. They did not care to what lengths they went, provided only the old religion could be restored. It cannot be doubted that, with the connivance of the Pope himself, they were engaged in a series of schemes for the assassination of the Queen. What could be done when a papal invasion of England was planned, led by Campion and Parsons ? Campion no doubt had a most beautiful character, and it was Parsons who did the intriguing. Parsons escaped, but Campion was caught and perished on the scaffold, and then the country rang with denunciations of the persecution of the Romanists. It was a cruel dilemma for the Government. These priests went about the country preaching that the Queen was excommunicated and that her subjects owed her no allegiance. What was to be done? It was also a cruel dilemma for the English Romanists, created for them by the papal policy. The actual effect of the relations between England and Rome was to create in the English mind the prejudice that a Roman was a born intriguer and one who had but a slight regard for truth, that the Roman system was anti-English, absolutely averse to English modes of thought, and destructive of English liberties. This is the conception which popular Protestantism has retained ever since. I have thus rapidly sketched the many difficulties which beset the Church of England, and which led it to take its present form through a genuine desire to com- bine on the largest possible basis all the religious as- pirations of the English people, and to give expression to all that was highest and best in the national life. * LAUD'S POSITION IN THE HISTORY OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND. 1 WE turn to the records of the past with a desire to escape from the perplexities which beset our judg- ment of the present. We long to find principles, clearly marked, working themselves out to a trium- phant end. We pine for characters of majestic simplicity, whose integrity and wisdom are alike beyond dispute. It is sad to confess that the search for heroes is fruitless ; that there are few characters which defy criticism ; that the forms of controversy have changed rather than their nature ; that men and women are still sons and daughters of debate ; that the issues of the activity of those who played a great part in affairs are strangely complicated, and still make demands on our charity in judging them. It is not my purpose to-day to eulogise the char- acter of him whose memory we are met to celebrate. My object is to put before you the task which he undertook, and the difficulties which beset him. The judgment of history is necessarily stern ; it can make no allowance for good intentions : it must pass be- yond immediate success or failure, and must estimate 1 A lecture given at All Hallows, Barking, on loth January, 1895, in connexion with the commemoration of the 250111 anniversary of the beheading of Archbishop Laud. 164 ARCHBISHOP LAUD 165 all the results of action which it has the penetration to perceive. First, then, I should say that William Laud has an unfailing claim upon the homage of English Churchmen, because he did much to fix the character of the system of the English Church. Some explanation is necessary to show how and why such a task devolved on him ; and for this purpose I must ask you to follow me in a brief survey of the actual conditions which Laud had to face. The great religious movement of the sixteenth century produced a universal change, which affected all countries alike. It marshalled into opposite camps tendencies of thought which had long been antagon- istic, though the antagonism had been humoured or suppressed. It swept away the dominant theology which had formed the groundwork for the abuses which provoked revolt. Post-Tridentine theology in the Roman Church owes more to Luther than to his scholastic predecessors of the fifteenth century. Everywhere there were changes, and it was difficult to foresee the final settlement in any quarter. In England the limitations of change were at first clearly defined. They were abolition of the Papal jurisdiction, remedy of abuses in the organisation of the Church which were due to that jurisdiction, greater simplicity and intelligibility in public wor- ship. These corresponded with the fuller develop- ment of that national consciousness whose watchword had always been " England for the English ". They corresponded with the political ideal of England's position, which first took a definite shape in the hands of VVolsey, and has ever since prevailed 1 66 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES that England should use its natural advantages and its large resources to act as an independent arbitrator in European affairs. The conception of an English patriarchate, quasi alterius orbis papa, was as old as Anselm, and was almost realised by Wolsey. It seemed no great innovation to give it practical effect. But when change is in the air it is impossible to erect barriers beyond which it may not pass. The reigns of Edward VI. and Mary witnessed two forms of reaction, both of them worked by a small party from above, neither of them according with the wishes of the English people. One thing only was obvious to the statesmen of Elizabeth's reign that Romanism meant the loss of English liberty and England's sub- jection to the overwhelming influence of the Spanish monarchy. But in England itself men's minds had been stirred by alternate persecutions, and partisan- ship had arisen on both sides. Parties had uncon- sciously formed themselves, and corresponded with parties existing on the Continent, where national and social antagonisms had assumed a religious garb. It was difficult to see how the conception which lay at the root of the English Reformation was to be real- ised, an independent and united England, strong in its union, and able through its strength to mediate in the struggles on the Continent and produce peace by the example of its own moderating influence. We miss the whole point of what actually occurred if we do not recognise the existence of this ideal, which was the result of England's past experience. England united was safe, and could impose its will gradually but decisively on the Continent ; England ARCHBISHOP LAUD 167 disunited was helpless, and became the scene of plots, intrigues, and passionate animosities, which would drag it into continental warfare as a feeble ally to one or other of the contending powers. Religious unity was felt by the wisest to be a political necessity ; no sacri- fice was too great to obtain it. The best hope was that the English people would accept the spirit of the changes made under Henry VIII., and forget after a little time the spirit displayed under Edward VI. and Mary. If the framework were securely erected things might slowly adjust themselves. Hot blood would cool ; opinions would modify one another ; the general forms of public worship were such as all men might readily agree to accept ; on doubtful points of practice and belief there was large latitude. Such were the hopes of the wise and prudent ; but it requires little knowledge of history to know that wisdom and prudence play a very slight part in di- recting human affairs. The motive power in all things is generally the passionate resolve of small bodies of men to have their own way because it is their own. There was a sufficient number of adhe- rents of the Marian Church to form a party, which intrigued abroad for Elizabeth's downfall and the subjection of England to Spain. This party had little hold in England itself, where Romanism might have speedily been absorbed if the religious settle- ment had prospered as it was hoped. But the returned exiles from Geneva had adopted the views of the French reformer, and strove to give them practical effect. The theology of Calvin was a weighty contribution towards many questions which 1 68 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES had been brought into prominence in recent contro- versy. The rulers of the English Church regarded it with sympathy, and had no desire to prevent its free discussion or to limit arbitrarily its acceptance. But Calvin was not only the author of a system of theo- logy, but of a new system of Church government and of public worship. His English adherents were not content to hold his theological opinions ; they strove to impose his system of worship and government. They denounced episcopacy ; they discarded sur- plices ; they objected to the Liturgy ; they steadily worked for the purpose of imposing upon England the Genevan system of discipline. The immediate result of their action was to give force and vitality to the old form of worship. Men were not unwilling to exchange the old services in Latin for those modelled on them which were con- tained in the Prayer-book. But in the face of the agitation set on foot by the adherents of Geneva, what security had they that these would be decently performed or permanently retained ? If England was after all to submit to a foreign yoke, Rome was pre- ferable to Geneva. So some argued ; and the pardon- able hesitation of many who were not interested in religious controversy deepened into a quiet adherence to the old system, which at least was definite when all else seemed shifting. Thus a Romanist party grew up in England, which was dangerous, not on religious grounds, but because it gave an opportunity for poli- tical interference from without. Thus the prospect of a united England faded away on one side. The question still remained, how could ARCHBISHOP LAUD 169 it best be maintained on the other ? There can be little doubt that the mass of the people were satisfied with the Prayer-book. But there was a minority who favoured a more radical change. This minority was at first not so much strong in numbers as in resolute- ness. It did not represent popular feeling, but con- sisted of earnest men, many of whom had been in exile, men who took orders in the Church, and claimed to work for the public good according to their own convictions. This body found a home in the desolate universities, where they influenced the minds of the young and built up adherents. To them the Prayer-book was merely a temporary makeshift a half-way house between the Romanism which they detested and the Calvinism which they soon hoped to establish. For an understanding of the course of events it is necessary to remember two things which are gener- ally overlooked or misrepresented. First of all, the Puritan party were not struggling for toleration, but for mastery. They did not ask for wider option within the system of the Church, but they wished to substitute another system for it. Every point of concession gained was but a step towards a new de- mand. Objections were made first to the use of the surplice, then to the Liturgy, then to episcopacy. The aim of the objectors was gradually to introduce the presbyterian system. The minister was to be approved by the classis ; ceremonies were to be gradually dropped ; churchwardens and overseers were to be turned into elders ; the Church was to be administered by classical, provincial, and general 170 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES assemblies ; bishops might remain as chairmen of these meetings till the time came for their disappear- ance ; the Liturgy was to be slurred over, and the con- gregation invited only to a sermon prefaced by a long extempore prayer. By a judicious perseverance in this policy the Church was to be transformed into Presbyterianism. This was the persistent endeavour of the Puritans ; it was consistent and intelligible. A second point to notice is that the leaders in this movement were found amongst the clergy, particu- larly in the universities. The Romanists manifested their hostility by withdrawing from the Church, organ- ising themselves apart, and looking for help from abroad to bring back England to their way of think- ing. The Puritans entered into the organisation of the Church and strove to change it from within. The first Nonconformists were clergy who refused to conduct their services according to the Prayer- book. It was this fact which constituted the great diffi- culty in the way of uniting religious feeling in Eng- land on a basis which would give unity and strength. Religious questions were unfortunately also political questions. England, united either with Romanism or with foreign Protestantism, would have sacrificed its independent position and would never have emerged into the England of to-day. If the reign of Elizabeth was the great period in the making of modern England, it was because Elizabeth always aimed at holding a mediating position abroad, and husbanded England's resources while other countries were squandering theirs in warfare. Had the Puri- ARCHBISHOP LAUD 171 tans prevailed, this advantage would have been lost. Taking the largest historical view, I think it must be admitted that England owes a debt of gratitude to those who upheld its struggling Church. We may admire the zeal and the conscientiousness of the Puritans ; we may own that they contributed valu- able elements to the national character, and largely influenced for good England's subsequent develop- ment. But we must say in all fairness that they were not patriotic in their early days, and that their endeavours to make England Calvinistic did not cor- respond to the best interests of the nation. We may regret that their excellent qualities were deprived of their full influence because they were expressed mainly in resolute antagonism. Thus the English Church was identified with the English nation alike in its strength and in its weak- ness. The Church was surrounded by powerful foes, organised on a definite basis, and it seemed almost impossible for it to make good its mediate position. The English State was in a similar position ; no states- man, except Elizabeth herself, thought it possible for England to stand alone. Yet Elizabeth succeeded, in spite of overwhelming difficulties. Church and State alike grew into a consciousness of their mission, of their capacities, and of their inherent strength. It is enough for me to suggest the close connexion between the two. I am concerned only with the Church. There was the system corresponding truly to the needs of the nation's life, and generally ac- cepted; but the difficulty was in working it efficiently. There was no desire on the part of the authorities of 172 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES the Church to check prematurely theological contro- versies. Many of the bishops were strongly imbued with Calvin's teaching. But it was necessary to have an orderly and decent service in which all might join. To this the Puritans objected : they would have no remnants of the past ; they could not work in fetters ; they would be content with nothing less than the system of Geneva. Episcopal visitations, admoni- tions and injunctions were powerless. Ecclesiastical authority was set at nought. Attempts were made again and again to meet the demands of the Non- conformists : ceremonies were explained, ritual was simplified, trivial matters were allowed to assume importance. Every effort was made to procure peace, but was made in vain. This period of experiment to discover a basis of unity compatible with the maintenance of the eccle- siastical system was not favourable for the definite exhibition of the system itself. Many bishops were themselves uncertain how far they might go in their concessions. The country parishes were often ill- manned ; the ecclesiastical organisation was defec- tive ; there was much disorder. It required time for a sense of loyalty to the Church to gather round a genuine appreciation of its system. For this purpose thought and knowledge were necessary. Amid the violent utterances of partisans the real issue was obscured ; and the lofty aims of cultivated piety were not immediately attractive in a time of discord. But it was through controversy that opinion developed, and the position of the Church became better defined. First Jewel stated its difference from the Roman ARCHBISHOP LAUD 173 system ; then Hooker, with still more massive learn- ing, fortified it against the attacks of the Puritans, and indicated the limits of possible concession. The onslaught of Calvinism gradually died away before the appeal to Christian antiquity and the history of the Christian Church. Whitgift, as Arch- bishop, could exercise stronger discipline over the clergy than Parker had ventured on. Yet Whitgift was content with demanding an acknowledgment that the Prayer - book was unobjectionable. He asked only for outward uniformity and obedience to the law. It was unfortunate that the last demand was so convenient in its form ; for it suggested a mass of enlightened opinion, which was not con- vinced by argument or by reference to strictly ec- clesiastical principles, but was suppressed by a system imposed from motives of public policy. However, the influence of Calvinism as a system of Church govern- ment and discipline gradually waned. When it as- sumed a merely doctrinal aspect Whitgift was willing to make large concessions. It was for wiser heads than his to see that the theology of Calvin had already exercised its due influence on the English Church, and that further definition on the dubious points contained in the Lambeth articles was not desir- able. The Hampton Court Conference emphasised the fact that Calvinism was not to change the system of the Church ; that the Prayer-book stood the test of Scripture interpreted by primitive usage ; and that this interpretation was not to be set aside in favour of the private judgment of the most eminent theologians of the sixteenth century. 174 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES During this period the system of the Church was constantly on the defensive, and so had little oppor- tunity of putting forth its full strength. There was a genuine desire to make it suitable for the whole mass of the English people. Suggestions for this purpose had been freely made and fully considered. From a period of controversy emerged the conviction of essential principles. It was the old Church, freed from accretions, brought back to its primitive form, recognising individual liberty and consequent responsi- bility, appealing to the head as well as to the heart, with Scriptural reasons for what it did and what it omitted. All this became increasingly apparent to the new generation which had grown up under the influence of its services, and had caught their meaning. This developed consciousness found its fitting ex- pression in the formation of characters which were avowedly built on the system of the Church, and which set forth its distinctive features. Controversy, alas ! is sometimes inevitable ; but, like any other form of warfare, it is in itself unlovely, and is only valued for the peace which follows upon it. Pious lives are more effective than learned disputations ; the still, small voice of devotion penetrates farther than the keenest arguments. Bishop Andrewes was the type of a temper which was powerful among the clergy ; George Herbert and Nicholas Ferrar were examples of its influence among the laity. Herbert was led to take orders at the age of thirty-seven, and during his brief pastorate of three years was a model of devotion to the duties of his office. Ferrar with- drew from public life that he might live with his ARCHBISHOP LAUD 175 family and friends in an atmosphere of quiet and educated piety. These men had common charac- teristics : they were lovers of peace, they were men of learning, they strove to form their lives by the practice of orderly devotion, they loved the Church, and strove to make its meaning clear by scrupulous care for everything which could make its services intelligible and attractive. Cultured devotion and spiritual sweetness have perhaps never been set forth more cogently and persuasively than in their lives, their characters, and their writings. They indicated splendid possibilities of a religious future, which had been the dream of thinking minds during the weary century of debate through which Europe had discon- solately passed. For it is well to abandon all illusions about the sixteenth century. There were strong men ; there were powerful minds ; but there was a dearth of beautiful characters. A time of revolt and upheaval is a time of one-sided energy, of moral uncertainty, of hardness, of unsound argument, of imperfect self-con- trol, of vacillation, of self-seeking. It is difficult in such a time to find heroes, to discover a man whom we can unreservedly admire. The Church of Rome had fortified itself against attack by the Inquisition, and by the passionate zeal of the Society of Jesus, which soon degenerated into unprincipled intrigue. Calvin raised against it a massive system, which bound together the members of his community by an overpowering sense of their direct dependence on God through His particular election of each indivi- dual soul. Beside these two great systems all else 176 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES seemed inconclusive, poor, feeble, and doomed to failure. Yet where in either of them was there place for the aspirations of the devout scholar, of the man who reverenced liberty, who believed in progressive enlightenment, who longed for an intelligent order of things in which the Christian consciousness should seek for spiritual truth ? It was not merely by acci- dent that the great scholar Isaac Casaubon ended his days in England, made happy by the society of Andrewes. It is significant of the temper of the times that the Puritans pelted him with stones in the street when they found that he was not a partisan on their side. Still, despite this, Casaubon, with his vast learning and his wide experience of the Conti- nent, found peace for his soul in England, which he called "the isle of the blessed". In it, despite all drawbacks, still lingered a reverence for knowledge, a love of truth, and a sense of the problems of the future. Now, herein lies Laud's claim to greatness, that he recognised the possibilities of the English Church, not merely for England itself, but as the guardian of all that was best and most fruitful for the future of re- ligious progress. " This poor Church of England," he said in his speech upon the scaffold, " hath flour- ished, and hath been a shelter to other neighbour- ing Churches when storms have driven upon them." Laud had at heart the ideal of a united England, with a Church at once Catholic, Scriptural, Apostolic, free from superstition, yet reverently retaining all that was primitive ; a resting-place for all men of enlightenment ; a model of piety and devotion to a distracted world ; strong in its capacity for mediating ARCHBISHOP LAUD 177 between opposing systems ; full of the zeal which comes from knowledge and large-heartedness. He saw the value of the qualities which Andrewes had quietly and patiently expressed, and he longed to set them forth universally and unmistakably that they might do their work in the hearts and con- sciences of men. He had a clear conception of the mission of the English Church, and his one aim was to embody that conception in its system with a clear- ness and definiteness which could not fail to be con- vincing. Hitherto this conception had been blurred and obscured, had slowly found its way into shape, and had remained in the background amid the din of contending parties. Laud wished to make it positive, to set it in the forefront, and rally England round it. There are two things which must be kept distinct Laud's conception of the Church of England, and the means which he took to embody this conception. I am endeavouring to judge his conception strictly on historical grounds. The questions which agitated Laud's time still agitate in some degree our own day also. But we must not suppose that they wore the same appearance then, or had the same meaning. What Laud had before him was briefly this : the attempt to substitute the system of Calvin for the system of the Church had failed ; but Calvinism was still strong ; and there was a desire on the part of politicians to make such a religious settlement in England as suited general convenience. Why, it is often asked, did not James I., Laud and Charles I. fall in with this suggestion of obvious utility, and allow a Church which had room for all ? 12 1 78 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES There is, of course, the answer that an institution must after all be something, and that there are limits to latitude of opinion which no institution can tran- scend. But this does not, I think, account for Laud's attitude. He was a statesman, and not merely a politician. He recognised that England had a part to play in the world, a duty which it could not refuse to fulfil. He saw that that duty was one of compos- ing differences, of mediating, pacifying, and influenc- ing. It seems to me that this has been, and still is, England's great contribution to European progress. Sufficiently isolated to be able to stand aloof from foreign politics and solve her own problems, she is yet sufficiently near to be receptive of all foreign movements, and to deal with them, both practically and speculatively, in a wise and deliberate way. But it is hard for any nation consistently to hold such an attitude, which, indeed, can only be realised in great crises by great statesmen. Elizabeth, in a time of great danger and difficulty, stood alone among her ministers, and directed England's course, against their judgment of temporary expediency, steadily in this direction. For some time she alone understood the difference between an English Church and an Anglican Church. Owing to her resoluteness there was time for the lesson to be learned ; and Laud was the first who fully apprehended its full significance To him the Church of England was not, as it had been to his predecessors, an arrangement for express- ing the religious consciousness of the English people It was a system instinct with life, full of mighty pos- sibilities, with a world-wide mission peculiarly its ARCHBISHOP LAUD 179 own. He asked England to take this view, to re- cognise its achievements, to value its great possession, to sink minor differences, and put forth its united power for God's glory. The services of the Church, he thought, were intelligible in their simplicity, and had suffered in the past because they had never been suitably displayed. Let them only be fully and fairly performed, and they would of themselves attract and convince. Men would soon understand and love them. So Laud began his ecclesiastical revival with care for outward things. It was not that he put principles in the background, but he thought that the worship of the Church was the best form of teaching. Argu- ment and controversy had done little ; let the voice of devotion be heard, and it would prevail. " I laboured (he says) that the external worship of God in this Church might be kept up in uniformity and decency and in some beauty of holiness. And this the rather because, first, I found that with the contempt of outward worship of God the inward fell away apace, and profaneness began boldly to show itself." There was a second reason which weighed strongly with Laud. The strength of Romanism in England lay in the divided condition of the Church. " I could speak (Laud goes on) with no conscien- tious person almost that were wavering in religion, but the great motive which wrought upon them to disaffect, or think meanly of the Church of England, was that the external worship of God was so lost, and the churches themselves suffered to lie in such a base and slovenly fashion in most places of the kingdom." 12 * i8o HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES So Laud's desire was to teach men by the eye and by the heart ; to set before them the quiet dignity of an orderly system, and let its teaching gradually sink into their minds. He enforced uniformity, not be- cause uniformity was convenient for the nation, nor because it was enacted by law, but because it was necessary to set forth the strength and beauty of the devotional system of the Church of England. Within that system he was prepared to allow large latitude for difference of opinion. He had no wish to curb liberty of thought, but he aimed at checking what he held to be disorderly and disloyal action. There was the Prayer-book. Let men reverently perform the services therein prescribed, and let them discuss tem- perately and charitably theological questions in a scholarly spirit. Laud was always anxious to re- move difficulties which prevented thoughtful men from taking Holy Orders. He was satisfied that Chillingworth should subscribe the Thirty-nine Arti- cles as being articles of peace z>., "as containing no errors which may necessitate or warrant any man to disturb the peace or renounce the communion of it ". He had no fear of the results of free inquiry, if devotion and reverence held the first place. The system of the Church was to be definite, but it was to be large, sympathetic and liberal. This in outline was Laud's ideal. Even those who do not agree with it may at least admit its nobility, and confess that it was a worthy object to absorb the energies of an ecclesiastical statesman. But even those who agree with it most entirely must recognise that Laud was wrong in the means by which he tried ARCHBISHOP LAUD 181 to accomplish his end. Indeed, it may be doubted if he possessed that first great quality for a practical statesman instinctive sympathy for the conditions under which his work has to be done. Laud knew what he wanted that in itself gives a certain claim to greatness but he took the readiest, the most obvious way to gain his end, and scarcely stopped to consider how he could work most acceptably. His training was academic, his mind was logical ; he had all the defects of a purely academic character. He lacked personal dignity and geniality. He did not recognise the large part which is played in popular opinion by prejudice. He thought that if a thing was reasonable the only way of proving its reason- ableness was by enforcing it. He was conscious of his personal limitations, and the consciousness seems to have depressed him instead of spurring him to self- discipline and self-improvement. Rarely has a man displayed so much activity with so little hopefulness. He does not seem to have felt the need for enthu- siasm, and he did not kindle it in others. His plans came before men's eyes in a mass of details which were not irradiated by an intelligible principle. He treated mankind as if they were children, and he their schoolmaster. " Do this because I tell you, and you will see its use in time," is not a command which is readily obeyed by Englishmen. He did not draw the line between what was of primary importance and what was trivial, between regulating the services of the Church and the demeanour of the worshippers. Men might recognise the desirability of the restora- tion of churches, of the orderly and decent perform- 1 82 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES ance of the service of guarding the Communion-table from profane uses by removing it from the body of the church to the east end. But it was a most un- desirable extension of authority to prescribe specific acts of reverence as equally applicable to all. He was over-hasty, over-punctilious. He was proud of his prodigious activity, which sometimes degenerated into fussiness. He made men feel unquiet, because they did not know how much farther he was going. He was not content with laying down great lines which could be quietly filled in afterwards. But more than this, he completely identified the Church with the State. He knew, to quote his own words, " that my order as a Bishop, and my power of jurisdiction, is by Divine Apostolical right, and un- alterable (for aught I know) in the Church of Christ" ; but he took no other view of his right to exercise his office, either of power or jurisdiction, than as derived from the Crown, and exercisable according to law. He does not seem to have thought of the paternal jurisdiction inherent in his office, and independent of anything that the State could confer. The loss of this conception did more to confuse men's minds about the nature of the Church than any of Laud's measures did to make it clear. His action did much to stereotype the view of a bishop's office as an executor of national laws, passed through motives of expediency, and founded on other than theological reasons. This was the view which rendered Episco- pacy unpopular, which gave strength to Nonconfor- mity, and involved the system of the Church in current politics. If Laud had conferred with his ARCHBISHOP LAUD 183 clergy and striven to guide and influence them by the authority of his Episcopal office, if he had ex- horted his suffragans to do the same, his revival might not have gone so far, but it would assuredly have rested on a firmer basis. It would have been ecclesiastical in a true sense, and would have asso- ciated discipline with the system of the Church rather than the laws of the State. If the Church of Eng- land claimed to refer to primitive antiquity for its belief and practice, surely its episcopal government should be carried on with reference to primitive methods. As it was, Laud's exercise of authority was an anomaly. But Laud not only exercised his office as deriving its power from the State, but further held secular office in the State. This was one of the great evils of the mediaeval Church, a fertile source of abuses. Yet Laud shut his eyes to its obvious dangers, and be- lieved that civil power was best in the hands of Church- men. Moreover, the work which Laud had set himself in the Church was more than enough for any man's energies. He could not carry the burden which he placed upon his shoulders. When much work has to be done a man is bound to be niggardly of his time ; he becomes impatient of details ; he delegates busi- ness which he considers unimportant. But spiritual work is all concerned with details ; and he who would work for God must learn never to be in a hurry, must curb his natural impatience, must remember how tenderly God has dealt with him, must regard no time wasted which composes differences, or removes scruples, or resolves doubts, which cheers, consoles, or 1 84 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES convinces. Laud's visitations and injunctions de- pended for their effect on the manner in which they were carried out. If their execution was committed to an official, who was only concerned with results, they were sure to give grievous offence. If they were done hurriedly, fretfully, peevishly, they were not likely to be understood. It is impossible not to admit that, as years went on, and the burden of work increased, Laud failed in temper and discretion, grew more arbitrary and less hopeful. He was grimly doing his duty, sensitive to the dislike which he felt to be growing around him, unable to avert the danger which he felt to be impending. But besides its effect on Laud's own character, his position as a state official identified the Church with a policy which more and more ran counter to the wishes of the nation, and strove to maintain itself by methods which raised serious opposition. The Church under his guidance lost all chance of exercising a mediating influence ; it seemed to be an integral part of a particular system of government. Opposition to the Government implied opposition to the Church, and the bishops were regarded as the mainstays of a royal dictatorship. We know the disasters that followed. It is need- less to speculate if they could have been averted. So far as Laud is concerned, they only emphasised the truth that he who undertakes to do God's work with the world's weapons will stand or fall according to his worldly prudence, and not according to the excellence of his intentions. Laud chose to work through power rather than through influence ; his power failed him, ARCHBISHOP LAUD 185 and he fell before his foes. That they were relentless and pursued their triumph to the utmost we can only regret for their own sakes. You may think that I have dwelt unduly on Laud's errors and shortcomings, that I have not made allow- ances for the difficulties of the time, that I have applied too high a standard. We learn more, I think, from considering the causes of men's failure than of their suc- cess. The important question about great men is not " Why did they accomplish so much ? " but " Why did they not accomplish more ? " Is not that the question which we need to ask most diligently about ourselves ? It is not so hard to have a noble end ; the difficulty lies in working it out by worthy means. We can never learn this lesson enough. It is the great moral lesson which history teaches, and only when this lesson is clearly taught does history teach aright. Laud's conception of the Church was sounder, larger, more practical than that of his opponents. Events justified his wisdom. Presbyterianism was tried and failed ; Independency was tried and failed ; efforts at ecclesiastical combination proved to be impossible. When England again had to consider the matter, nothing was vital except the system of Laud, which was practically accepted at the Restoration. It was after all the most possible, because it was the most in- telligible. Laud had laid down its main lines. The Church of England was part of the Catholic Church, holding the Catholic faith, maintaining the historic episcopacy, dispensing the sacraments according to primitive ordinance. " I die," said Laud in his will, " I die as I have lived, in the true orthodox profession 1 86 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES of the Catholic faith of Christ, a true member of His Catholic Church, within the communion of a living part thereof, the present Church of England." This was the position of the English Church, and nothing subsequently altered it. Compromises might be urged by politicians, but nothing could be accepted which threatened to destroy the order of the English Church as a part of the continuous Church of Christ. This was the original basis of the English Church. It had been passionately attacked from the beginning. It had been inadequately expressed in practice. Laud asserted it clearly and definitely, and showed how it was to be set forth and what it involved. He won for it deep reverence and profound conviction, which were conspicuously shown by Charles I. Had Charles been willing to abandon the Church and to give up episco- pacy, he might have saved his throne and his life. But on this point Charles stood firm ; for this he died, and by dying saved it for the future. Men may differ in their opinions about the form of the Church, or even if any particular form is neces- sary. But amid the differences which they see around them, they may at least, if they are fair-minded, agree on this that the Church of England has discharged a special duty in the Christian commonwealth, and has done a work which no other organisation could have done. We who are its faithful children have boundless hopes of its future possibilities for doing God's work in the world. All may combine, without any sacrifice of their own convictions, in recognising what Laud did, and in admitting the services rendered since to God and man by the Church which he main- ARCHBISHOP LAUD 187 tained at a crisis of its existence. None of us, how- ever much we may be devoted to that Church, can wish to be mere eulogists, or even apologists, of Laud's policy and actions. The cause for which Laud con- tended is too precious in our eyes for us to associate it with human frailty and want of judgment. We ac- cept Laud's teaching with gratitude ; we admire his zeal, his devotion, his courage, his conscientiousness. We commemorate to-day all that was great and noble, all that was lasting, in his life and character. We seek the heart and the head of the man, and rejoice in the clear vision and enlightened insight which saw and claimed the fair heritage which is ours to-day. THE EARLY RENAISSANCE IN ENGLAND. 1 IT is sometimes worth while, even for a lecturer, to look at the rock whence he was hewn, and to content himself with explaining why he exists. This is the humble purpose which I have set before myself. Other lecturers, in their yearly courses, have cele- brated the advance of science, or have unfolded the development of thought. I would ask you to go back with me and consider some of the causes which made this progress possible, some of the labours of for- gotten men by whose goodwill and zeal our intellectual heritage has been slowly built up. When Sir Robert Rede founded this lectureship in 1518 he did so be- cause he wished to enrich the University with oppor- tunities which it had not possessed before. He wished to broaden its studies by favouring that New Learn- ing which was changing men's views about the world and life. My object this morning is to discover the motives which probably weighed with him and explain the meaning of what he did. The Renaissance is a familiar theme ; and its history in Italy has been elaborately studied of late years. Perhaps so much has been written about it that its main features have been somewhat obscured. 1 The Rede Lecture, delivered in the Senate House, Cambridge, on I3th June, 1895. 188 THE EARLY RENAISSANCE IN ENGLAND 189 Italy was the home of the Renaissance movement, and attention has been chiefly given to the most exaggerated forms which it there assumed, while its simpler, I might almost say its normal, development, has been somewhat overlooked. Let me try and put before you in its simplest form the chief object of that intellectual movement which we have agreed to call the Renaissance. The great formative power of ancient life was the culture derived from Hellas. Culture after all means an attitude towards life, and the attitude expressed by Hellenic thought was one of clear outlook upon the world, frank acceptance of things as they were, and resoluteness in clothing them with beautiful form. These qualities of the Hellenic mind were to some degree impressed upon the sterner and more practical mind of Rome, which gave them wide dominion. But Rome, with all its capacity for action, lacked the faculty of preserving by perpetual readjustments the spiritual conceptions on which natural life must ulti- mately be based. Each step in Rome's expansion left it poorer in actual contents, till it fell through sheer exhaustion. In the downfall of material civili- sation, in the miseries of barbarian invasions, the new power of Christianity alone survived and was strong enough to build up again the life of man upon an enduring basis ; but the task was enormous, the struggle was arduous, and amid the general wreckage only such elements of the old civilisation survived as had been absorbed by Christianity. This revived society bore manifold traces of the conflict which had been necessary to train and discipline the conscience 190 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES to an abiding sense of duty. But as society became more settled, as material civilisation was again re- covered, as men had more leisure, and life grew richer, the need was felt for fuller recognition of the primary and immediate objects of that life of the thoughts and fancies and passions of which each man was directly conscious in his individual experience. There had been such an expression once ; it must be re- covered. Italy, as the most ancient nation, felt most keenly the need of regaining its forgotten treasures. The Renaissance was the movement for this purpose. At first the movement was unconscious, and it is difficult to fix upon a time which made it definite. But it seems to me that the important crisis in the fortunes of any movement is that which impresses its aim upon the imagination of the multitude. Such an impression was made by one who is not much recog- nised in this connexion, by Francis of Assisi. The unconscious purpose of his life was to find peace for himself by freedom from all common ties and con- ventions, so that he might live unfettered and un- hindered in joyous communion with God and man. All the world was his, because he called nothing his own : all men were his brothers ; the delights of out- ward nature, the companionship of birds and beasts, were his to the full, for God bestowed them upon him. His life was a poem which told of the joys of liberty of earth's loveliness, of the delight of human inter- course founded on pure love. Francis announced, in a way that could not be forgotten, that it was possible to have a clear outlook on the world, to see in things as they were a promise of what they should be and THE EARLY RENAISSANCE IN ENGLAND 191 to clothe them with beauty. I admit that his message was delivered fantastically, that its method was im- possible for ordinary men, but it was a message none the less. Its spirit was not forgotten. It created the great theologians of the succeeding age : it lies at the bottom of all that is loftiest in Dante : it inspired the art of Giotto. It went far to make all these men pos- sible, because it prepared men's minds to understand their object, and sympathise with their efforts to set forth the unity yet variety of life. Be this as it may, there was ever after the time of Francis a constant endeavour to grasp human character with all its powers and capacities ; and the scientific means to- wards this end was the study of classical literature. Italy gave itself to this object, and its separate states vied with one another in their zeal. Plato lamented that in his days the study of geometry was neglected because no state held it in sufficient repute. The Italian city communities were convinced that the pursuit of classical culture was an object of political importance. Scholars were esteemed as public bene- factors ; they enjoyed exceptional advantages ; they were freely supplied with leisure for their studies ; their lectures were crowded. It was as disgraceful for a man of position not to be a patron of scholarship, as it would be nowadays if he refused to subscribe to the local hospital ; every one was bound to be interested in literature, and show his good taste by some addition to the beauty and enjoyment of the common life. The band of scholars which was thus produced was divided into two great parties, a division which seems 192 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES to be inevitable in all that man attempts. The object of their efforts was to explain and set forward the individual. How was this to be done ? by taking the existing individual and developing its powers ; or by the creation of a new form of character, emancipated from existing shackles, and frankly formed upon the antique model ? This was the question which divided the Humanists. Both parties were agreed about the paramount importance of classical studies, both were opposed to the old-fashioned modes of thought and means of education. But one party wished to ex- pand, the other to subvert ; one party was Christian and progressive ; the other was revolutionary and pagan. It was only in Italy that this pagan party found strong support, and expressed itself with freedom. All movements tend to be judged by their extreme representatives. Much that has been written about the Renaissance in Italy treats its most extravagant exponents as typical of all, and does not adequately distinguish. But when we attempt to consider the influence of the Renaissance outside Italy, as I am trying to do, we must clearly differentiate three classes of students. First of all, there were the men of the old school, who were assiduous students of classical literature, but used it as a help to their own pursuits. Secondly, there were the Humanists, who wished to extend the old studies, and improve the old methods of education, and take a freer outlook over the world. Thirdly, there were the poets and rhetoricians, who cared nothing for the contents of life, but taking them- selves as they were, strove only after beautiful expres- THE EARLY RENAISSANCE IN ENGLAND 193 sion, and gloried in a freedom from prejudice which they would have all men follow. It is a matter of some interest to see how England was affected by this movement. The first class of scholars was, I think, strongly represented, and Eng- lish writers early show the influence of considerable reading of the classics. For instance, the chronicler, William of Malmesbury, who died in the middle of the twelfth century, tells us that his object in writing was " barbarice exarata Romano condire sale," to season with classical flavour the barbarous chronicles of his predecessors. The object and phrase in which it was expressed are alike worthy of a Florentine of the best period. I have come across one testimony to a knowledge of classics in England in early times which is so remarkable, and so difficult of explanation, that I think it worth mentioning even at the risk of seeming pedantic. ./Eneas Sylvius, who certainly knew MSS., says that in the Library of St. Paul's in London he found an ancient history, written, accord- ing to its colophon, six hundred years before, that is, roughly speaking, about 800 to 850 A.D. " The writer of this history," he goes on, " was noted as the Greek Thucydides, whom we know by report to have been famous : I found, however, no translator's name." England was indeed far in advance of the rest of Europe if at that early date it possessed a student capable of translating Thucydides. However this may be, England produced in the fourteenth century one of the earliest collectors of books. Richard of Bury, Bishop of Durham, was a type of the omnivorous student : even on his journeys he carried a library 13 i 9 4 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES with him and sat surrounded by piles of books so that it was difficult to approach him. He left his large library to Durham College, Oxford ; both college and library have passed away, but the treatise which he wrote on the care of books and the proper ordering of a library still remains and gladdens the hearts of librarians. Moreover, Richard visited Italy and was a correspondent of Petrarch. Yet we cannot class him as a Humanist. His conduct towards Petrarch shows a lamentable want of interest in the problems which exercised the men of the New Learning. Petrarch meeting an inhabitant of the distant north inquired eagerly his opinion about the identification of the island of Thule. Richard answered that when he had returned home he would consult his books, and would then be able to satisfy his inquirer's curiosity. This we now know to be the proper answer for a professor to give, but wholly unsuited to a university extension lecturer and still more to a man of letters. Further, though Petrarch frequently wrote to remind Richard of his promise, he received no answer : " so that," he sadly remarks, " my English friendship brought me no nearer to Thule ". It may be urged that Richard knew nothing about the subject on which his opinion was asked ; but the duty of a scholar was to disguise his ignorance by drawing attention to the beautiful style in which he could clothe it with irrelevant remarks about everything else. Certainly a man who lost an opportunity of writing a long and elegant Latin letter to Petrarch, even though he had nothing to say, has no claim to be considered a Humanist. THE EARLY RENAISSANCE IN ENGLAND 195 Indeed this story shows that England, even at that time, exercised great caution in receiving foreign influences. Englishmen, when abroad, were doubtless as sympathetic as their proverbial stiffness enabled them to be ; but when they returned home external impressions rapidly passed away and insular stolidity again possessed them. This is seen in the case of Henry Beaufort, Bishop of Winchester, who visited Constance during the Council in 1417. He posed so successfully as a man of letters that the great Floren- tine scholar Poggio Bracciolini trusted to his vague promises and came to England hoping to enjoy the benefits of his patronage. But Poggio's sojourn was one continued disappointment. Such of the monastic libraries as he searched contained no classical MSS. The English nobles lived in the country, occupied in agricultural pursuits, and were wool merchants instead of patrons of letters. Their chief enjoyment was eating, and they cared more about the quality of the food than the refinement of the repast. Poggio found no sympathetic souls, and after waiting for eighteen months to see what the Bishop of Winchester would do for him, the mountain produced a mouse. He was offered a small benefice, miserably below his expecta- tions. He was so disappointed that he did not choose to allude much afterwards to his English experiences, and we are deprived of an interesting record of our illiterate forefathers. But better days were at hand ; and it is strange that no rumour reached the ears of Poggio of the literary taste shown by Humphrey Duke of Gloucester who provided what England had not hitherto enjoyed, 13* 196 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES a distinguished and wealthy patron for scholars. Where Humphrey acquired his fondness for letters it is hard to say. He was educated at Oxford, and in his lifetime enriched the University with so many valuable books that he may be regarded as the founder of the Bodleian Library. We know, however, of no teacher in Oxford who can have turned his mind towards the New Learning ; and his busy and ad- venturous life seems averse from literary pursuits. Yet Humphrey is the nearest approach in England to an Italian prince, and he was recognised as a con- genial soul by Italian scholars. He set himself to bring Italian influences into England, and he suc- ceeded in turning the attention of some towards the acquisition of a polished style. In this he was helped by the fact that the Council of Basel drew many Englishmen abroad, and brought them into personal contact with Italian scholars. One of these Italians especially, ./Eneas Sylvius Piccolomini, had a happy geniality of manner, and a power of exhibiting the practical value of that versatility of character which is the result of culture. JEneas had his way to make in the world, and early learned to turn his hand to anything that needed doing. He was a keen observer, a man of ready sympathy, an excellent exponent of the substantial value of a good education to enable you to find plausible reasons for what it is expedient for you to do. Amongst others whom he trained in the art as well as the science of scholarship was an English- man, Adam de Molyneux, who died in 1450 as Bishop of Chichester and Keeper of the Privy Seal. I do not THE EARLY RENAISSANCE IN ENGLAND 197 know that the temper of New Learning, or the hopes of its followers in England, can be better expressed than in a somewhat patronising letter which ^Eneas wrote to his English disciple : " I read your letter with eagerness, and wondered that Latin style had penetrated even into Britain. It is true that there have been amongst the English some who have cultivated the eloquence of Cicero, amongst whom common consent would place the Venerable Bede. Peter of Blois was far inferior, and I prefer your letter to any of his. For this advance all gratitude is due to the illustrious Duke of Glou- cester, who zealously received polite learning into your kingdom. I hear that he cultivates poets, and venerates orators ; hence many Englishmen now turn out really eloquent. For as are the princes so are the people ; and servants progress through imitating their masters. Persevere therefore, friend Adam. Hold fast and increase the eloquence you possess : consider it the most honourable thing possible to excel your fellows in that in which men excel other living creatures. Great is eloquence ; nothing so much rules the world. Political action is the result of per- suasion ; his opinion prevails with the people who best knows how to persuade them." Let me remark in passing that these words were written in 1444. They may make us doubt if the growth of democracy has done as much as we com- monly think to develop the methods of politics. I will not weary you by any account of the Italian scholars whom Duke Humphrey patronised. It is enough to say that he did everything which befitted 198 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES a literary prince. He has the merit of causing Latin translations to be made of two such works as the Politics of Aristotle and the Republic of Plato. Besides translations he encouraged the writing of such treatises as the age enjoyed, discussions of questions of no particular meaning for the sake of gathering round them a certain amount of recondite knowledge, of exercising dialectical skill and exhibiting the beauty of a classical style. The subjects resemble those which virtuous schoolboys might presumably choose if they were left to select topics for essays e.g., the difference between virtues and vices : or, a comparison of the life of a student and that of a warrior. Besides receiving such compositions from others, Humphrey was himself a letter-writer, and sent presents of books to other princes, with appropriate remarks on the fitness of the work for the character 01 its recipi- ent. Further, he welcomed in England an unknown Italian, who took the high-sounding name of Titus Livius, and constituted himself the biographer of Henry V. Nor did Humphrey neglect English writers ; he befriended Pecock, Capgrave and Lyd- gate. I do not see that he omitted anything which became one who formed himself on the best Italian model. In this endeavour he was followed by a nobleman who went to Italy and there studied to perfect himself in his part, John Tiptoft, Earl of Worcester. Tiptoft attended lectures at Venice, Padua, Florence and Rome. He rambled alone through the streets of these cities, going where chance led him, and drinking in the inherent charm of Italy. He addressed ./Eneas THE EARLY RENAISSANCE IN ENGLAND 199 Sylvius, who had become Pope Pius II., in a speech of such exquisite Latinity that it brought tears into the eyes of that too susceptible pontiff. He was a good customer to the great Florentine bookseller, Vespasiano di Bisticci, who has placed him as the only Englishman among the great scholars of the time whose lives he wrote. But Tiptoft learned more from Italy than English- men approved of. Into the unscrupulous politics of the dark days of Henry VI. he introduced an Italian carelessness of human life. The people hated him for his cruelty, and called him " the butcher of Eng- land ". His Italian biographer tells us that, when he was beheaded on Tower Hill in 1470, the mob cried out that he deserved to die because he had brought to England the laws of Padua. I think that this is an undue charge against English insularity, great as it was ; and that the mob cried out against his use of the treacherous methods of Italian politics. Anyhow Tiptoft is a conspicuous example of that truth, so often taught and so constantly disregarded, that when a scholar takes to politics his scholarship does not save him from occasionally losing his head. The troubled times of the Wars of the Roses dashed the prospects of court patronage ; but the tradition still remained. Even so staid a king as Henry VII. had a court poet and historian, Bernard Andre, a native of Toulouse. Andre's poetry is irrepressible. We wish he had told us more facts and sung us fewer Sap- phic odes, which are at best an imperfect medium for conveying accurate information. Moreover, Henry curiously favoured some Italians who came to England in the unpopular capacity of collectors of the papal dues. One of them, Giovanni dei Gigli, did his best to throw some romance over Henry's prosaic marriage by a fervent epithalamium, which gave England some excellent political advice. For this and other services he was made Bishop of Worcester, in which office he was succeeded by his nephew, and afterwards by another Italian, Gerolamo Ghinucci. The practical sense of English kings combined patronage of Human- ism with requirements of diplomatic service, and paid for both out of the revenues of the Church. Yet these men were useful in their way as means of literary communication with Italy. Ghinucci engineered at Rome Wolsey's plan for founding Cardinal College out of monastic revenues, and was employed to seek for books and order transcripts of Greek MSS. He even sent Wolsey catalogues of the Libraries of the Vatican and of Venice, that he might select such books as should be most useful for the library of his college. Another Italian, Polidore Vergil of Urbino, was not so fortunate in winning Wolsey's favour ; but he avenged himself by writing a history of England in which Wolsey was steadily depreciated. Its graceful Latinity made it for a long time the current history of England on the Continent, while England refused to believe that a foreigner could really understand its affairs. In yet another quarter Italian influences directly operated on England. It was long before natives could write Latin letters with freedom ; and Henry VIII.'s Latin secretary, Andrea Ammonio of Lucca, was a close friend and a kindly instructor of the eminent English scholars of his time. THE EARLY RENAISSANCE IN ENGLAND 201 I have said enough about the foreign side of the Renaissance in England. English learning was not affected by courtly patronage, nor was it much in- fluenced by the presence of foreign scholars. The pursuit of style had little attraction for Englishmen, nor did those who strove after it acquire any great facility. Very few, if indeed any, seem to have learned from the Italian scholars who were brought to grace courtly society. Such Englishmen as wished to learn went for that purpose to Italy, where they prepared themselves to vie with the Italians on their own ground. In the middle of the fifteenth century we find a small body of Oxford men who responded to the impulse given by the Duke of Gloucester, and wandered to Italy to seek there that instruction which England could not give. These self-selected Human- ists have scarcely been appreciated as they deserve, and I would venture to trace the outlines of their careers. I think the first to set the example was William Grey, of the family of Lord Grey of Codnor, who, after learning what he could at Balliol College, went to Cologne, which was in advance of England in logic, philosophy and theology. But Grey had a desire for classical culture, which Cologne could not supply, and resolved to seek it in Italy. Being a man of wealth, he lived with some state ; and the burghers of Cologne found him so profitable a resident, that they were unwilling to let him go. To escape from their embarrassing hospitality he had to feign a serious illness, and then flee by night with his complaisant physician, both disguised as Irish pilgrims. He went to Florence, where he ordered a library of books : 202 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES thence to Padua, and finally to the great Italian teacher, Guarino, who was then lecturing at Ferrara. He was made by Henry VI. his representative at the papal Court ; and the great literary Pope, Nicholas V., so admired his learning that he nominated him Bishop of Ely in 1454. It is to be feared that Bishop Grey's scholarly tastes found no response in the university of his diocese. At all events he passed by Cam- bridge, and set his hopes of a classical revival on his old college at Oxford, to which he gave a large sum for the purpose of building a library, which was to hold the literary treasures acquired in Italy. His collection amounted to 200 MSS., many of which still remain. It would seem that Grey had made friends at Balliol of men like-minded with himself, who listened to his enthusiastic reports of the excellence of Guarino's teaching, and set out to join their comrade at Ferrara. The first of these was John Free, a poor student whose expenses were probably paid by Grey. Free, besides Latin and Greek, learned botany and also medicinCj which he both taught and practised at Padua and Florence. He was, however, above all things a scholar, made several translations from the Greek, and wrote a cosmography. He went to Rome, where Pope Paul II. testified to his merits by appointing him Bishop of Bath in 1465, but he died before consecration. Free, in his turn, invited to Italy another Balliol friend, John Gunthorp, who as soon as he had learned to make Latin speeches returned to England, was employed by the King for the purpose of going on complimentary embassies, which the decorum of the THE EARLY RENAISSANCE IN ENGLAND 203 fifteenth century rigorously demanded, and finally was made Dean of Wells. There he built the deanery house, much of which still remains, bearing clear traces of the influence exercised by Italian architec- ture on the new houses which were beginning to replace the castle. Gunthorp has some interest for us, for he was for a time Warden of King's Hall (which was absorbed into Trinity College), and bequeathed some of his MSS. to Jesus College, which was founded a year before his death. He obviously had greater hopes of Cambridge than had his friend Grey. There is yet another who belonged to this curious band, Robert Fleming, who stayed at home till he was appointed Dean of Lincoln, and then joined his friends at Ferrara. Thence he went to Rome, and was in time appointed English representative at the papal Court. He had a country house at Tivoli, where he composed a long Latin poem in honour of Pope Sixtus IV., to which he gave the title Lucubrationes Tiburtince, to mark, I suppose, that it was the work of a busy man in villeggiatura. I have wearied you with these details. But they were necessary to prove my conclusion. There was no real interest in scholarship in England. Patron- age could not create it, nor could foreign example plant it and make it grow. The only result of the attempt was to kindle interest in a chosen few, who went to Italy in search of a career, and when they returned to occupy eminent posts at home felt that they had left their literary life behind them. All that they could do was to provide books and leave them where others in happier times might read them. 204 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES England was exceptionally callous to the attractions of culture, as such. These men were Latinists, stylists, engaged with form rather than content, opening out no new intel- lectual horizon. It was not till the value of Greek thought became in some degree manifest that the New Learning awakened any enthusiasm in England. An increase of knowledge was worth working for, not a development of style. Englishmen were little moved by purely aesthetic perceptions. They were willing to accept what was proved to be useful, or true ; they were not much affected by what was only beautiful. English society in the fifteenth century was engaged in developing trade, and its tone was eminently prac- tical. The nobles who followed the Italian model in developing their individuality were not appreciated and ended ill. The New Learning, if it was to take root in England, must come into definite connexion with English life and temper. It was another band of Oxford men who gave it this form, and so secured for it an abiding home. The first Englishman who studied Greek was William Selling, of All Souls College, afterwards Prior of Christ Church, Canterbury. In the monastery school he breathed his own enthusiasm into one of his pupils, Thomas Ljnacre, who with two friends, William Grocyn and Thomas Latimer, went to Italy for the special purpose of learning Greek. These men differed from their predecessors in that they were not wandering scholars, but were academic to the core. When they had learned what they wanted, they returned to Oxford and taught. Moreover, they applied their THE EARLY RENAISSANCE IN ENGLAND 205 learning to practice. Latimer and Grocyn were theologians ; Linacre was the most eminent physician of his day. Grocyn showed what a knowledge of Greek could do for theology by proving that the treatise on "The Ecclesiastical Hierarchy," attributed to Dionysius the Areopagite, could not have been written by him. This was the introduction of criticism into England. Linacre revived classical medicine by his translation of Galen, and so prepared the way for its more scientific study. He left a considerable estate for the foundation of three lectureships in medicine, two at Oxford and one at Cambridge. This brings me to a point which is of importance. As soon as it was seen that the New Learning had a vivifying influence on thought, an attempt was made to provide for it in the Universities. Doubtless this was largely due to the academic patriotism shown by Linacre and Grocyn. Their predecessors tried to leaven English life directly ; they trusted to high position, to patronage, to their personal reputation, to their practical success. They entirely failed to pro- duce any effect. England was slow to move, and was not to be fascinated by brilliancy. Culture did not radiate from the royal court or from the efforts of stray bishops. Englishmen in a dim way seemed to agree that the Universities were the organs of national life for the purpose of promoting learning. In fact I think that nowhere does the English temper show itself more clearly than in its relation to the Univer- sities. Two centres of intellectual life came into being, we can hardly say how : but so soon as two existed, great objection was felt to the creation of any 206 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES more. They were enough for local convenience. They were enough to excite emulation and display slightly different tendencies. Attempts to add to the number were rigorously suppressed. It seems as if the notion of two parties, to keep one another in order, was an ideal of early growth, and was dimly felt in the domain of learning before it was extended to the domain of politics. Anyhow England looked coldly on the New Learning till it forced its way into the Universities and proved its practical utility. When it had thus at- tracted attention, had shown its power, and had declared its combativeness, it received ready help. There was a desire to give it a fair chance, and allow it to prove its mettle in the places where questions respecting learning ought naturally to be decided. Perhaps one cause of the lethargy which certainly settled on the Universities in the fifteenth century was an uneasy feeling that the intellectual future belonged to the Humanists, who lived outside their influence, and whom they could not assimilate. The Oxford Hellenists reassured men's minds of their loyalty to their Alma Mater, and a system of University exten- sion was begun in consequence. In this Cambridge slowly and tentatively, with an eye to strictly practical results, took the lead under the influence of John Fisher. He was backed by a powerful patron, the Lady Margaret, whose generosity he cautiously diverted into academic channels. He began on a small scale with an object of immediate usefulness, the foundation of divinity professorships at Oxford and Cambridge, which should aim at teaching pulpit eloquence. On this point the adherents of the Old THE EARLY RENAISSANCE IN ENGLAND 207 and the New Learning might agree. If style was to be attended to, if rhetoric was to flourish, it might as well be applied to the great engine of popular educa- tion. The professorship at Cambridge was soon supplemented by the Lady Margaret preachership, the holder of which was to go from place to place and give a cogent example of the new style of pulpit oratory, which was ordered to be free from " cavillings about words and parade of sophistry, and was to re- commend God's word to men's minds by efficacious eloquence". I need not remind you that the Lady Margaret was so well pleased with the results of her new venture that she went on to found the colleges of Christ and of St. John. Patronage had now been successfully diverted to enrich and extend the resources of the ancient seat of learning. It must, however, be admitted that the animating motive of Fisher's endeavours was a laudable desire to raise Cambridge to the level which Oxford had already reached. The example of the early Hellen- ists still survived, and John Colet followed the ex- ample of his teachers, Grocyn and Linacre, in spend- ing three years in Italy. On his return in 1496 he went to Oxford, and as a volunteer delivered a course of lectures on St. Paul's Epistle to the Romans, in which he abandoned the scholastic method of inter- preting sentence by sentence, or word by word, and endeavoured to discover the meaning of the whole. It is most probable that the effect produced by Colet's lectures suggested to Fisher the foundation of a pro- fessorship at Cambridge, by which the new method might have a secure footing and not depend on the 208 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES personal efforts of individuals. Be this as it may, the fame of Colet, Grocyn and Linacre, to whom was added an attractive youth, Thomas More, made Oxford renowned, and drew thither the eager scholar, Erasmus of Rotterdam, who gives a charming picture of the delights of academical society. " When I listen to my friend Colet," he wrote, " I seem to be listening to Plato himself. Who does not admire in Grocyn the perfection of training ? What can be more acute, more profound, or more refined than the judgment of Linacre? What has nature ever fashioned gentler, sweeter or pleasanter than the disposition of Thomas More ? " Such a body of scholars, living and working together, sufficed to establish the reputation of Oxford, especially when such a man as Erasmus sang their praises to the learned world. Fisher steadily kept before his eyes a like possi- bility for Cambridge, and in 1511 summoned Erasmus to teach Greek and lecture on the foundation of the Lady Margaret. I need not speak of this interesting episode in our history, as it is not long since Professor Jebb brought before you its picturesque significance. Erasmus tells how within the space of thirty years the studies of the University had progressed from the old grammar, logic and scholastic questions to some knowledge of polite letters, mathematics, the renewed study of Aristotle and the study of Greek. Cambridge has so flourished, he adds, that it can vie with the chief schools of the age. In fact, if the revival in Cambridge was slower and less brilliant than at Oxford, it was more secure, for it rested on the cautious and careful supervision of THE EARLY RENAISSANCE IN ENGLAND 209 Fisher, who had the influence of the Lady Margaret's new colleges at his back. In Oxford the departure of Lin acre, Grocyn and Colet removed the spell of dominant personalities, which strangely enough has at many times lent a picturesque interest to Oxford which Cambridge can rarely claim. With their de- parture the glory of the New Learning departed also, as they left no equally distinguished successors. It was clear that, if Oxford had given the stimulus to new studies, Cambridge was more skilful in providing for them a permanent home. If progress was to be made, Oxford must copy the methods of Cambridge. The man who grasped this fact, and taught it to Wolsey, Richard Fox, Bishop of Winchester, had special means of knowing it, as he had been Chan- cellor of Cambridge and Master of Pembroke. In 1 516 Fox founded Corpus Christi College at Oxford, avowedly in the interests of the New Learning. But here again we may notice a characteristic difference between the two Universities. Fisher had gone his way quietly, without laying down new principles in such a shape as to awaken antagonism, content with slowly breaking down barriers and rinding room for the new studies by the side of the old. Fox, on the other hand, blew the trumpet of revolt, and his statutes breathe notes of defiance. His college is to be a beehive ; its lecturers are gardeners who are to pro- vide wholesome plants on which the bees may browse. They are " to root out barbarism from the garden and cast it forth, should it at any time germinate therein ". When metaphors are dropped, provision is made for lecturers who are to teach Greek and Latin classical no HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES authors. This, be it noticed, is the first establishment of a teacher of Greek in England, as previous efforts had been voluntary or else temporary. Still more significant was the provision for a reader in Divinity, who is to follow the ancient doctors, both Latin and Greek, and not the schoolmen, who are pronounced to be " both in time and learning far below them ". This was a bold declaration of war both in its depreciation of the schoolmen, and in its recognition of Greek theology. It led to a formidable rising of the Old Learning, whose supporters dubbed themselves Tro- jans, and assaulted the audacious Grecians in the streets. Fox's beehive was in a sorry plight, and its bees found it difficult to gather honey. More had to interpose with Wolsey, and Wolsey sent a royal letter commanding all students in Oxford to study Greek. It was the handful of dust necessary to restrain the buzzing of the angry insects. But Wolsey made the matter sure by proceeding with the foundation of Cardinal College. Thus both Universities were brought into line, and the position of the New Learning was secured. It is not my purpose to carry its progress further. It was just at this time, in the year 1518, that Sir Robert Rede, who had been a Fellow of King's Hall, and died as Lord Chief Justice of the Court of Common Pleas, bequeathed by will to the University a small sum of money for the endowment of lectures in philosophy, logic and rhetoric. His bequest was an indication of the revived interest which was felt in the Universities, and of the desire that room should be found in them for every branch of knowledge. The spirit of his THE EARLY RENAISSANCE IN ENGLAND an intention has been observed by the institution of this annual lecture, which recognises the usefulness of an occasional divagation from the ordinary course of studies, an occasional invitation to the members of the University to ramble into fields which are not mapped out and enclosed for that careful and methodical tillage which a tripos examination necessarily entails. The history of scholarship is generally disregarded. We commemorate our founders and benefactors with- out troubling ourselves about their immediate pur- poses and motives. It is enough for our gratitude to know that we are because they were. I fear that I may seem pedantic in having attempted the impossible task of condensing into an hour's lecture the beginnings of the New Learning in England. I did so from a sense of natural piety ; and I hope that I have estab- lished some links between the present and the past. England in the past showed much the same character- istics as England of to-day. It was not to be capti- vated by brilliancy. It did not care for mere graces of style. It was unmoved by attractive novelties till they had showed a capacity for sending their roots below the surface, and gave promise of fruit as well as flower. Nor would England receive its learning from abroad. If there was anything worth having beyond the seas, let Englishmen go and bring it back, and adapt it to the shape in which it was fitted for home consumption. Patronage and court favour might foster an exotic culture, but in that shape it would not spread. Further, England in a dull sort of way trusted its national institutions, even when they were little worthy of trust. Learning was a matter for the 2i2 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES Universities ; if they were not doing what they ought to do, those who were interested in the matter must set them right. Questions concerning learning must be decided in the places set apart for that purpose from time immemorial. New inventions were good wherever they came from, if they were proved useful ; but the goods for English consumption must be manu- factured by the old established firms, and their premises must be enlarged for that purpose. Again I say, England trusted its Universities in the past. It is in consequence of that trust that I have had the privilege of addressing you to-day. I thought that I could not use the opportunity better than by recalling a fact which brings with it an abiding sense alike of dignity and of responsibility. THE ENGLISH NATIONAL CHARACTER. 1 IT may seem that the subject on which I have chosen to address you is alike hazardous and commonplace. There is nothing new to be said about it, and there is always a danger of saying too much. The subject, however, occurred to me at a time when, I suppose, most of us were wondering whether we ought to feel hurt, or flattered, at the sudden interest in our doings which other countries unanimously displayed. We found some difficulty in recognising the representa- tion of ourselves which our neighbours put before us; and our thoughts turned towards an examination of the contents of our national self-consciousness. Whatever conclusions we reached about the main subject, I think we are in fairness bound to admit that the impression which we produce is some element in what we are. To be misunderstood is, doubtless, a misfortune ; but then intelligibility is of the nature of a virtue. The character of an individual is not so much what he thinks himself to be as what others think him. If he lacks the capacity for making clear what he is, that is a defect which must count against him. Of course the analogy between nations and in- 1 The Romanes lecture delivered in the Sheldonian Theatre, Oxford, on lyth June, 1896. 213 2i 4 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES dividuals cannot be pursued very far. Individuals are many ; nations are few. Individuals are judged by their own actions ; nations have a continuous character, and each generation is paying the penalty for the prejudices created by the actions of its pre- decessors. Moreover, in judging individuals, we adopt standards which vary according to the scale on which their life was lived ; for instance, a statesman is not judged so much by his private life as by his public policy. When this method is extended to a nation, all appreciation of the finer forms of its activity tends to disappear, and only very broad characteristics are taken into account. Further, it must be remembered that at present nations stand towards one another in the relation of commercial firms. In the ordinary course of things they have no occasion to express an opinion about each other's methods of carrying on business ; but when competition becomes brisk, and interests conflict, any old stories are useful which will damage their rival's credit. I remember when I was a junior fellow, being at dinner where conversation turned upon University business. In a pause, one who had been silent addressed the only stranger present : " I think you ought to know that in Oxford we are all so well acquainted with one another's good qualities that we only talk about those points which are capable of amendment ". International criticism is undoubtedly framed on the same basis, a basis to which no exception can be taken, when it is once understood. But I have a larger reason than one of temporary interest, which indeed I cannot undertake to satisfy, THE ENGLISH NATIONAL CHARACTER 215 for attempting to consider this subject. National character is the abiding product of a nation's past ; and that conception of the past is most valuable which accounts, not so much for the present environment of a people, as for the animating spirit which produced it, and which must still exist if it is to be maintained. It is not enough that history should account for the growth of institutions, the spread of empire, the march of commerce, or the development of ideas. Other in- stitutions in the past may have been more solid, but they have passed away ; other empires may have been vaster, but they have vanished ; commerce may have been equally adventurous in other times, but its har- bours and marts are in ruins ; literature may have spoken in richer tones, and science may have con- structed more massive systems, but they are now the inspiration of a few students. All these things came to an end, because national character failed in power to keep what it had acquired ; and rapid growth was followed by quick decay. There must be an equili- brium between the powers of getting and keeping ; and this must be wrought into the character of the nation itself. The great product of England is not so much its institutions, its empire, its commerce, or its literature, as it is the individual Englishman, who is moulded by all these influences, and is the ultimate test of their value. He exists as a recognisable type of character, with special aptitudes and capacities, to be appraised ultimately, if you will, by reference to your conception of the goal of the world's progress. Just as a biography would fail if it did not leave you with a clear notion of its hero's character, how it was 216 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES formed, and how it was applied, so any view of his- tory falls short of its purpose which does not exhibit the formation and exercise of national character, as the motive power of national life, prompting to action and growing by use. In attempting to follow out this line of thought, it is necessary to find a starting-point. I will not venture on speculations about the influence of race or climate, but will confine myself within the limits of recorded facts. I am not concerned with the origin of our national character, interesting as that may be, but with its nature and the forms in which it has de- clared itself in history. Now the most important point about English his- tory is that the English were the first people who formed for themselves a national character at all. We always tend insensibly to regard the past with the eyes of the present ; and, though we know better, we think about the past as though nations always existed. A distinction, however, must be made be- tween races and nations. Races or tribes came into history with certain characteristics which were doubt- less the result of their previous conditions ; but these conditions are unrecorded and can only be dimly con- jectured. We can see these races mixing with other races, and entering into new surroundings. The result of this process is that populations become nations, because they are united for common purposes, which are dictated rather by common experiences than by common conditions. In fact, nations, as we conceive them, are founded upon a consciousness of common interests and ideas, which are the result of long and THE ENGLISH NATIONAL CHARACTER 217 complicated experience. That consciousness separates them from other nations who do not share those in- terests, and are consequently termed foreigners. Our current conceptions of Europe and of European nations have grown up to account for a state of things which has gradually developed from something in which those conceptions had no place. When the northern folk invaded the Roman Empire, their leader, in the first exuberance of strength and spirits, proposed to turn Romania into Gothia. But when he learned that " the Goths would obey no laws on account of the unrestrained barbarism of their character, yet that it was wrong to deprive the commonwealth of laws, without which it would cease to be a commonwealth," he resolved to restore the Roman name to its old estate by adding Gothic vigour to its declining power. This conception of a united commonwealth of Romania corresponded to the needs and possibilities of the time, and found its expression in the theory of the Empire and the Papacy. Of this commonwealth the English formed part, and fully accepted all its benefits ; but they seem to have set to work almost at once to creep out of their obligations towards it. No sooner was England united under one ruler than there was some sort of feeling that it was a kind of empire by itself, and was not subject to any foreign superior. I do not attach undue weight to the assumption of the imperial title by early kings ; but it meant some- thing, and indicated a native conception which steadily grew, till it found its final expression in the document which announced that England had entirely shaken off the mediaeval theory of politics : " Where by divers 2i 8 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES sundry old authentic histories and chronicles it is manifestly declared and expressed that this realm of England is an empire, and so hath been accepted in the world, governed by one supreme head and king having the dignity and royal estate of the imperial crown of the same ". As it was with the Empire, so was it with the Papacy. The imperial power was shadowy, that of the Pope was practically operative. But the English, while admitting it, steadily set to work to minimise its practical application to themselves. When the papal jurisdiction was abolished, it was not because it weighed heavily on England precautions had been taken against that in good time but because " the English Church hath been always thought, and is at this hour, sufficient and meet of itself, without the intermeddling of any exterior persons, to administer its own offices and duties ". When I say that England was the first nation to develop a national character, I mean that in very early times it showed a tendency to withdraw cautiously from the general system of Europe, and go its own way. It had a notion that England's interests were not the same as those of the Continent, and were not covered by any general system which there prevailed. This feeling was to a great degree unconscious, and is generally explained by England's geographical position. I do not, however, think that this explana- tion is adequate. For England's position was no security to it in early times, as the Danish settlements and the Norman Conquest sufficiently prove. Nor did that position influence it by setting before its rulers, THE ENGLISH NATIONAL CHARACTER 219 as the chief object of endeavour, consolidation within natural boundaries. For a long time its military energies were directed to the Continent, and the desire to expand within the limits of the island itself was never of supreme importance to the popular mind. The conception of national boundaries was the chief cause of the formation of nations on the Continent. France and Spain became united kingdoms before Great Britain ; and their national character was largely formed round the pursuance of that object. It was not so with England, which slowly absorbed Wales, waited for Scotland, and neglected Ireland. Its dominant motive seems simply to have been a stub- born desire to manage its own affairs in its own way, without any interference from outside. And this desire, whatever its origin may have been, lies at the bottom of the English national character, and explains most of its peculiarities. One consequence of this cautious withdrawal from general European affairs was that England stood aloof from the general ideas which directed the movement of European politics. These ideas found practical expression in two great matters which powerfully affected men's minds ; the Crusades, and the conflict between the Empire and the Papacy. England was never stirred by crusading enthusiasm. The expedition of Richard I. was a personal, not a national, matter ; and Edward I. went to the Holy Land to keep out of the way at home, and gain military experience in an accredited manner. So too in the ecclesiastical contest, England tried to express no opinion. When Anselm introduced it into England it was discussed dispas- 220 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES sionately, and Henry I. showed a truly English spirit by devising a compromise, in which he kept all that he practically wanted. England's sympathies were on the whole with the Emperor, but they were not effec- tively expressed. When Englishmen wrote on the subject, their arguments and opinions were intended for foreign and not for domestic consumption. England preferred to construct its political theories solely with an eye to its own political practice. This is an important point, because it accounts in some degree for the fact that other peoples do not readily understand us. We have not at any time been swayed by the general ideas which have prevailed on the Continent. We have declined to raise abstract questions, or commit ourselves to ideal schemes. Englishmen stood in the same attitude towards the great ideas of the eleventh and twelfth centuries as they observed towards those of the French Revolution. They were not caught by far-reaching principles, but considered them in relation to their own actual con- dition. They would not go beyond the limits within which they could see their way. We have never been able to express the meaning of our national life in the terms of an ideal system which might be generally understood. Yet I would not have you suppose that the English always disregarded abstract theories. On the con- trary, they displayed great capacity for borrowing and expanding them when it was necessary. The development of the doctrine of the Divine right of kings, and its practical application to English politics, may compare favourably with anything that was ever THE ENGLISH NATIONAL CHARACTER 221 achieved abroad in a like direction. But when it had served its immediate purpose, and was carried too far, it was rapidly dropped and was exchanged for another theory which was more practically useful. Indeed, English politics show that the idealism of the practical mind is thorough-going for a brief space, but its very thoroughness prevents it from leaving any abiding trace. English politics are frequently ideal, but the ideals change rapidly, and the change is never de- fended by reference to principle, and is generally incapable of logical explanation. I return to my main point that England's aloof- ness from large ideas of general politics was due to its desire to manage its own affairs, and adapt its institutions to its own needs as they arose. This is expressed in the familiar fact that the structural part of English history is constitutional history, and that this constitutional history is exceedingly perplexing. It is difficult to refer the growth of English institutions to any very definite principles. Their development did not come from the expansive power of general ideas, but was largely the result of cautious adjust- ment to the facts of national life. There was always a dread of the rigidity of any system, however excel- lent ; and there was always a resolute maintenance of national, and even of local, customs, against attempts to read them into the terms of a consistent and orderly arrangement. This is equally conspicuous in our legal history. It has been said that "it is in opposition to the canons and Roman laws that our English law became conscious of its own existence". English customs were put into writing, not with a 2i2 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES view to their codification, but that they might be maintained against a logical system which was being imported from abroad. When once they were for- mulated, they were stubbornly upheld. Nothing is more characteristically English than the famous refusal of the barons at the Merton Parliament to amend English law, in a trifling matter, that it might be in accordance with equity and with the practice of Christendom. " Nolumus leges Angliae mutare " was the expression of an outburst of national conservatism, not directed against the proposed amendment in itself, but against the reasons by which it was supported. English law must remain because it was English ; there was danger in admitting principles which might prove far-reaching. The abiding result of this temper is, that in England no existing institution, or right, or claim can be ex- plained without going back a long way. Foreign nations have to come to us to find the traces still remaining of their own historic past, which has been submerged by volcanic eruptions. This is not only a matter of archaeological interest but carries with it consequences which greatly affect us. Other nations may claim more glorious memories, or may speak in higher-sounding tones of national enthusiasm ; but no nation has carried its whole past so completely into its present. With us historical associations are not matters of rhetorical reference on great occasions ; but they surround the Englishman in everything that he does, and affect the conception of rights and duties on which his actual life is built. I cannot illustrate this better than by quoting the saying of a witty foreigner, THE ENGLISH NATIONAL CHARACTER 223 that if three Englishmen were shipwrecked on a desert island, their first proceeding would be that one would propose, and another second, that the third do take the chair. I need not follow out all that this implies. But one point deserves notice. The Englishman is content to live under complex and venerable institu- tions, because he feels that their gradual growth is a guarantee that they were formed through a wish to deal with Englishmen as they are. He thinks that his laws and institutions were made to fit him, and he resents being pared down to fit them. Hence he is restive under simpler systems which are more rigidly applied. Who does not know the travelling Englishman, aggrieved because he may not argue the rights of his particular case, as against some general rule, which the native finds no difficulty in dutifully obeying ? His grievance lies in the sense that the rule never contemplated his particular case at all, and yet that he is called upon to obey it. It is this which lies at the bottom of an Englishman's conception of tyranny. His sense of justice is not the same as that of peoples whose law and institutions are more logical, and he labours under a defective sympathy with other institutions than his own. There is, however, another consequence of the antiquity of our institutions, for which we unde- servedly suffer in foreign estimation. We are re- sponsible for having invented a form of government which suits ourselves, and seems simple in its main lines, but which really depends on so much beneath those main lines that it is unfitted for exportation. The methods of our parliamentary government have 224 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES been freely copied ; but, unfortunately, they owe their value in England, not so much to the excellence of the finished article, as to the long process of forging which it has undergone. English institutions, we know, depend for their success on the capacity of the English people to work them ; and this depends on the solidarity of our national life, which underlies all mechanism, and gives that mechanism its native power. We can lend other peoples our mechanism ; unhappily we cannot lend them our solidarity. Those who have borrowed from us feel a little sore that things do not work with them so well as they expected. Party government is an excellent thing, but the number of parties must be limited, and it is difficult to limit them artificially. It is well that ministers should be sensitive to public opinion, but it is dis- couraging when they are so sensitive that a ministry does not endure more than six months. I think there is a certain feeling that we have beguiled other coun- tries and have advertised as a panacea a course of treatment which applies only to ourselves. I have compared international relations to those of competing trading firms. Perhaps we do not suffi- ciently realise that we enjoy the advantages and disadvantages alike of being the oldest and longest established firm. We do not find it necessary to adopt the most modern methods, to follow the newest fashion of advertising, or to explain our procedure to everybody. We go on, with the consciousness of a long period of success behind us, and of an undoubted credit. It is not worth our while to put ourselves continually in the right ; we are sure that we shall be THE ENGLISH NATIONAL CHARACTER 225 justified by ultimate success, and can endure crises before which others would succumb. We are not particularly sensitive to the opinion of others, and are surprised to find that they are sensitive to our opinion, which we express with stolid openness. There are two forms of self-assertion, which may be distinguished by a remark which you will see did not originate in this University. That great question the difference between an Oxford man and a Cambridge man was once solved by the epigram : " An Oxford man looks as if the world belongs to him : a Cambridge man looks as if he did not care to whom the world belongs ". I am not concerned with the truth of that saying in itself, but it undoubtedly describes two temperaments, which differ, and annoy one another, by a sense of difference. I think, however, that we must admit that the man who does not care to whom the world belongs is extremely annoying to the man who main- tains that the world belongs to him. This is eminently the attitude of Englishmen towards other countries. Foreigners rehearse their glories ; they recount their claims ; they point to their achievements ; they ela- borate their ideals. The Englishman listens unmoved, and does not even answer. It may be so ; he does not care to dispute the matter ; he is only sure that, whatever the future may be, there will be plenty of room in it for him to do much the same as he has done in the past and that is enough. It is this particular attitude which leads foreigners to call us haughty, cold, and unsympathetic. Indeed, we must confess that we have something of the hardness which goes with a long period of steady 15 226 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES success. It requires an effort to see how exception- ally favourable has been the process of England's development when compared with that of other countries. It does not bear the marks of centuries of oppression from barbarous conquerors, of long struggles to realise national unity, of eager waiting for some man with a strong arm and iron will who might carry out the inarticulate wishes of a suffering people, of passionate outbreaks of national despair, of chimeras of universal happiness madly pursued, of dreams of universal empire ending in exhaustion. As we look around us, we can see on all sides the abiding traces of these things on the characters of other peoples, traces of something fantastic, unreason- able, fanatical call it what you will. But let us remember that suffering gives an insight into regions where thought cannot penetrate ; and the man who has not suffered is wise if he learns some lessons from those who have. History should teach us sympathy with the national past of other peoples. We should learn not to offend against the prejudices or fancies, as we may deem them, which are the inseparable result of all they have gone through. We should not be so uniformly and aggressively reasonable in the advice which we tender them so freely. For there is about us this curious trait that, though we are averse from forming any decided policy for ourselves, we are always ready to advise others. This obviously involves a contradiction, which it is hard to explain to foreigners. Indeed, in nothing is the peculiarity of the English character more strongly emphasised than in the curious prominence which it THE ENGLISH NATIONAL CHARACTER 227 has always given to the claim for free expression of opinion. Tennyson has caught the leading conception of liberty which has prevailed amongst us at all times when he describes England as A land where girt by friends or foes A man may speak the thing he will. Englishmen have always been more concerned with saying what they would than in being or doing what they would. There is more outspokenness and ex- pression of purely individual opinions and judgments in the mediaeval chronicles of England than in those of other countries. From the days of Walter Mapes, there was a series of writers who gave their views about current affairs in political songs and satires. At the beginning of English literature stands Lang- land, burning with a simple Englishman's desire of saying his say about things in general. Hugh of Lincoln took Richard I. by his coat and gave him a good shaking, when he petulantly refused to listen to him. Grosseteste hunted Henry III. from place to place, as the king fled before the scolding which he knew was in store for him. Englishmen always longed to speak out what was in their minds. With this went a tolerance of opinions, which again distinguishes England from other countries. It was not till the end of the fourteenth century that Eng- land troubled itself to discover heresy, and then the motive was to arrest outbreaks of social disturbance. The notion of strict inquiry into opinions, and the infliction of punishment for them, was always very distasteful to Englishmen. It has been pointed out 15* 228 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES that the sufferers under Queen Mary were not more numerous than those under Henry VIII. or Eliza- beth ; but Englishmen regarded their punishment with horror, because they suffered solely for their opinions as such, and not for the maintenance of social order or political security. In a dim sort of way it seems to me that Englishmen have always recognised that the solidarity of national life depends upon a practical agreement, and have shrunk from any repression of opinion which went beyond the limits of securing the minimum of agreement necessary for carrying on common life in tolerable order. There must be a common basis, and that must be secured. But it need not be a very large basis to be strong enough for its purpose ; opinions as such must be left to settle themselves. You will see that, in this process, all depends on a belief in the strength of the mutual understanding about the basis, i.e., about the real solidarity of our national life. Because we trust in one another's ultimate sense of justice, we are ready to discuss anything and everything. But we ought to remember that other peoples have not necessarily attained to the same basis as ourselves, and do not look on opinions in the same way. I remember once trying to explain to a distinguished German why we did not fight duels at our universities. I first said that we had other forms of athletic sports which we preferred : I de- scribed the charms of cricket, football and boating. " But," he said, " in all these men contend against one another." I agreed. " Then," he pursued, " they sometimes lose their temper and use injurious words." THE ENGLISH NATIONAL CHARACTER 229 I admitted sorrowfully that sometimes adverse opinions were expressed about the capacity of an otherwise respected colleague. " Then," he continued trium- phantly, "when a man is injured, he must redress his wounded honour by a duel." This was quite logical ; and I could only state the fact, without accounting for it, that it was possible for us to listen to disparaging comments on our failure to catch a ball without feeling personally wronged, or indeed paying any attention to them at all. Does not this difference of point of view indicate the real meaning of our political methods ? There is so much free expression of opinion that we are hardened to it, and give it just so much attention as we think it deserves. We do not understand the sensitiveness of those who have not had the advantage of being born and bred among these bracing surroundings. I have been asked, when talking with foreigners about their affairs, if my opinions represent those of Englishmen generally a question which it never occurred to me to ask, and which I could discover no possible means of answer- ing. I have seen a foreigner seriously produce an article from an English newspaper, three months old, as an indisputable proof of England's attitude towards his country. It is very difficult to explain to him that probably every variety of opinion has been expressed since then by the same newspaper, and certainly by other newspapers ; and that I could undertake to furnish him with similar proof for any attitude of England which he most desired. The truth is that every Englishman likes to express his opinion, if he takes the trouble to make one. 230 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES What becomes of his opinion is a matter of secondary importance ; he gives it to his fellows for what it is worth, and he knows that they will not attach to it an undue importance. At the best it will take years before it is likely to assume any practical shape ; then it must be backed by a society with subscribers, and a secretary and a monthly journal. Its ultimate success is so remote that he scarcely feels any per- sonal responsibility for it at the time when it is first uttered. This is our form of political education ; it would be impossible were it not that our commerce requires advertisements, which pay for the journal and its accompanying education. Other nations, whose industries are not so extensive, cannot afford this method, even if they had the materials for it. We should not judge them harshly on that account ; and perhaps it would be kind on our part if we drew a sharper line of distinction between the advice which we give to one another and that which we send abroad. I said that an Englishman expressed his opinion freely, because he was not afraid that any one would attach much weight to it. But this does not apply to foreigners, who have a different view about the responsibility attaching to opinions, who are not accustomed to hold public meetings about the affairs of other countries, and who read separate utterances of individuals into an authoritative expression of a national policy. It is very difficult to explain to them our methods in a way which is not offensive to them or disparaging to ourselves. Yet the fact is that all the fire and smoke with us comes from a well-regulated bonfire ; with them it would mean a conflagration. THE ENGLISH NATIONAL CHARACTER 23! Our air of condescension towards foreigners is cer- tainly of long standing. I began by reminding you that England was the first country which displayed a strong national consciousness, and this involved a sense of separation from other peoples. The history of the thirteenth century is largely concerned with the persistent determination to purge England from foreign influences and secure a purely national govern- ment. The pages of Matthew Paris are full of this English sentiment, which was directed equally against Italian ecclesiastics and the relatives of a Provencal queen. Characteristically English was " the Associa- tion of those who would rather die than be confounded by the Romans," who, under that title, sent a circular to the bishops bidding them not to interfere while they burned the barns in which these aliens stored their tithe. And here, at Osney Abbey, the students shot the cook of the legate Otho, who lost his temper at their free and easy ways. It was the cry of " England for the English " that prompted the Barons' War, and breathes through the literature which it produced. Yet even so, England judged not accord- ing to the letter. When foreigners were ordered to give up their castles, Simon de Montfort was included in the number ; but England had need of him, and when those who were obnoxious had been got rid of, Simon was restored to his possessions. The earliest account of England from outside is that of a Venetian ambassador in 1497. He says : " The English are great lovers of themselves and of everything belonging to them. They think that there are no other men like themselves, and no other world but England ; *3* HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES and whenever they see a handsome foreigner they say that ' he looks like an Englishman,' and that ' it is a great pity he should not be an Englishman ' ; and when they set any delicacy before a foreigner they ask him 'if such a thing is made in his country'." Early in the reign of Henry VIII. Sir Robert Wing- field argues in a magnificently English manner, " As the English nation has always surpassed the French in valour and good faith (I do not wish to speak invidiously), so it cannot be judged inferior to it either in antiquity and dignity, or in the size of its territory, or in its learning and capacity ". " Valour and good faith," these are the primary and practical qualities which the Englishman has always claimed as con- spicuously his own ; then he is prepared to argue that all other good qualities follow naturally from their possession. I have spoken of some points in which we misunderstand foreigners ; there is a point in which they misunderstand us. Our valour they do not deny, but our claim to conspicuous good faith is not equally clear in their eyes. Good faith is to some degree a matter of opinion, and a reputation for it is only gained by scrupulous care. It cannot be won by a few heroic achievements. While we think of all the disinterested things that England has done, other countries think of the hindrances she has placed in their way that she might maintain her own interests. I am afraid that they often regard her humanitarian pleading as so much hypocrisy, and suspect some ulterior motive behind. Though they are wrong in so doing, we should remember that their error is natural, and that it is to some degree our THE ENGLISH NATIONAL CHARACTER 233 own fault if they do not know how simple and straight- forward we really are. I return to the fact that England early displayed a sense of stubborn independence of foreign influences. It was largely due to the Norman Conquest that this did not mean isolation, but only independence, which showed itself in assimilating what was in accordance with the national temper, and rejecting what was not. It is curious to trace this in the development of architecture. The impulse came from the Normans, but the English soon gave the Norman forms a mean- ing of their own. One point will serve to illustrate the tenacity of the English traditions. The great Norman churches were of basilican form, terminating with an apse. Little by little, in subsequent days, English architects replaced them by the rectangular chancels to which they had been accustomed in their simple churches. Indeed, the whole process of the evolution of ecclesiastical architecture was a gradual reversion to the primitive form of the Celtic building. So was it with the movement of the Renaissance. England remained unmoved by it so long as it was a foreign importation, and only received it from her own scholars when it assumed the practical form of serious criticism. The national form given to the New Learning enabled England to withstand the influence of the Reformation on the Continent, and work out its own ecclesiastical changes on its own lines. Not till this was accomplished, did the literary and artistic impulse of the New Learning find an expression in the reign of Elizabeth, moderated and inspired by the vigorous awakening of a new con- 234 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES sciousness of national greatness in an altered world. I need not pursue this subject. It is enough to call your attention to the slow and deliberate way in which, since then, England has weighed, and valued the productions of continental thought, literature and art, and has selected from them just what she needed. It stands in striking contrast to the rapidity with which other nations have received impulses from England, and have at times been dominated by them. I have been attempting to show that, on whatever side you approach English history, you find English- men always animated by a stubborn determination to manage their own affairs in their own ways, according to their own needs. To this definite end their ener- gies have always been directed. They have not been desirous that things should look well or be capable of clear explanation, so much as that they should work well. They have paid little heed to fashions in thought or activity, but have insisted on looking into things and considering what they were worth to them- selves ; and, at the same time, they have always been ready to take what they thought was worth having. Consider that remark about stalwart and handsome foreigners, which seemed so characteristic to the Venetian Ambassador : " It is a pity he is not an Englishman ". The Venetian regarded it as an ex- pression of national arrogance. Surely it was an expression of a large-hearted appreciation of excel- lence, wherever it was to be found an appreciation which at once assumed the practical form of a readi- ness to appropriate. Combined with a ready recogni- tion of the man's charm went a regret that that charm THE ENGLISH NATIONAL CHARACTER 235 was not always exercised for their benefit. Talis cum sis noster esto is a recognised form of compliment. Probably no Venetian would have thought an in- dividual Englishman worthy of his admiration. Cer- tainly he would never have wished him to be a member of his republic. If he had thought aloud, most probably he would have reasoned, " I am glad such a man is not in Venice ; if he were he would stand in my way ". The Englishman was below such reasoning and above its conclusion. He admired frankly, and regretted that what he admired did not belong to his country. There was no covetousness in his remark, no thought of compulsory annexation ; but he could not help feeling how useful such a man might be in England. Is not this a parable of the Englishman's point of view ? It is really simple and spontaneous ; it is so easily interpreted as arrogant, or covetous, or both. The Englishman's country was dear to him, because all that it contained was home-made, and intelligible, and corresponded in a very real way to himself and his requirements. " A poor thing, but my own," he might perhaps say sometimes when he contrasted it with the great monarchies of Spain and France. The sixteenth century saw this long-cherished indepen- dence of England seriously threatened ; and the menace made Englishmen realise, as they had never been called upon to realise before, all that their country meant for them. At the call of danger they entered upon a full knowledge of the value of their birthright and of the individual powers with which their country had endowed them. Driven back upon 236 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES their own resources, they strained every nerve to make the most of such advantages as they possessed, and to use every opportunity of securing others. Then, for the first time, did they fully appreciate the benefits of their geographical position, and set to work to make the most of them. Commerce, in- dustry, seamanship, adventure, all assumed those forms with which we have ever since been familiar. The modern Englishman came into definite existence not different from his ancestors, but the same endowed only with greater self-consciousness, because compelled to adapt himself to larger problems. Forced into conflict with the power which claimed to possess the New World, he found himself, to his own surprise, superior in all the qualities which betokened lasting success. With this discovery came an exhilarating sense of a national destiny, a foremost place in the world's affairs, which has remained with England ever since. All this has been so well set forth by the two illus- trious men who lately held the chairs of history at Oxford and Cambridge that I need not dwell upon it. But I wish to prove the permanence of the type of English character ; and I can best do so by telling you the story of an Elizabethan Englishman, which I take almost at random. It may serve to show that the expansion of England did not arise from any policy on the part of English governments, but that our international relations are the result of the spirit of commercial adventure, which animated the English people as soon as the events of the sixteenth century afforded an opportunity THE ENGLISH NATIONAL CHARACTER 237 In 1554, Robert Tomson, of Andover, sailed from Bristol to Cadiz to make his fortune. He went to Seville, where he found an Englishman, John Field, who had been settled there for twenty years, with his wife and family. Tomson learned Spanish and looked about him. Seeing the produce which came from the West Indies, " he did determine with himself to seek means to pass over to that rich country, whence such a great quantity of rich commodity came ". Field was caught by his enthusiasm, and set off with his wife and family to Mexico. On the journey they suffered shipwreck, but were saved by another vessel. They lost all their goods, and landed " naked and distressed " at San Juan de Ulloa. There, however, Field met an old acquaintance in Spain, who gener- ously supplied their needs, and gave them means to pursue their journey to Mexico. On the way Field and most of his family died of fever bred by the pestilent country. Tomson was ill for six months, but found even there a Scotsman who had been settled for twenty years, and by his recommendation found employment, in which he prospered for a year and a half. Then he fell into a theological discussion one day at dinner, and conducted it with all an Englishman's self-sufficiency. " It is enough to be an Englishman to know all about that and more," was the remark, he tells us, of a bystander. He was de- lated to the Inquisition, was condemned to do three years' penance, and was sent back as a prisoner to Seville. On his release, he took the post of cashier in the office of an English merchant, and then chanced to meet a lady who had sailed from Mexico with her 238 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES father who died on the voyage. Finding her un^ protected, and the possessor of some .25,000, he chivalrously married her, and recounts the fact " to show the goodness of God to all them that trust Him ". In this story, we have all the characteristics of the modern Englishman an adventurous spirit, practical sagacity, a resolve to succeed, a willingness to seek his fortune in any way, courage to face dangers, cheer- fulness under disaster, perseverance in the sphere which he has chosen. Moreover we find him, even in those early days, personally acceptable in the land where he goes, valued for his capacity and probity, treated with kindness and consideration, exciting no animosity, and intermarrying with the folk amongst whom he lives. Yet, all the while, he remains every inch an Englishman, does not change his ideas or modify his opinions, cannot hold his tongue when he is challenged, but is ready to put everybody right. Finally, because of these very qualities, he inspires such confidence in his general uprightness that a defenceless girl feels secure under his protection and commits herself and her possessions to his care. The strength of Englishmen in the present day is admitted to lie in their practical capacity. This is only an application to the sphere of individual life of that desire to manage their own affairs in their own way, which I have traced as the leading feature of English history. Let me give you an example of the way in which this capacity shows itself, to the bewilderment of foreigners who do not consider the centuries of experience which lie behind it. A cos- THE ENGLISH NATIONAL CHARACTER 239 mopolitan, free from particular prejudices, once gave me an account of his observations as a student in an important technical college on the Continent, where his fellow-students were drawn from every national- ity. He told me that in class-work the English rarely distinguished themselves, and often made colossal blunders, which excited mirth. But when the class was over, and all adjourned to the workshops, where a practical problem was given, the case was different. "The German," said my informant, "took out a note- book, and immersed himself in long calculations. The Frenchman walked about and indulged from time to time in ingenious and often brilliant suggestions. The Englishman looked out of the window and whistled for a while ; then he turned round and did the problem, while the others were still thinking about it." I do not profess to find any moral in this story. I simply tell it you for what it is worth. I have dealt very superficially with a large subject. The only practical conclusion I can draw is that, being what we are, we must try to make the best of our- selves. To any one who wishes to pursue the subject further and a lecture such as this should end with a suggestion of further study I would venture the sug- gestion that an analysis of the conception of liberty, as it exists in different countries, would be fruitful of results. That conception expresses itself in the claims of the individual on society. Not the least remarkable feature in English history is its lack of picturesque and emancipated individuals. The Englishman has never learned to conceive of himself as detached from his surroundings, as having an inalienable right to do, 240 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES or be, exactly what suits him best, without regard to the legal or moral rights of others. He takes with him, wherever he goes, a notion of liberty which is associated with duty and justice ; and this is the secret of his success as a civilising agent. I cannot close my fragmentary remarks more fittingly than by quoting some words of Hegel : " The material exist- ence of England is based on commerce and industry, and the English have undertaken the weighty respon- sibility of being the missionaries of civilisation to the world : for their commercial spirit urges them to tra- verse every sea and land, to form connexions with barbarous peoples, to create wants and stimulate industry, and first and foremost to establish among them the conditions necessary to commerce, viz., the relinquishment of a life of lawless violence, respect for property and civility to strangers ". These words were written in 1820; nothing has since occurred to diminish their force. I have been showing you how England has been fitted for that high destiny, and for a due sense of the responsibilities which are inseparable from it. SAINT EDWARD THE CONFESSOR. 1 WE are met to-day to commemorate the founder of this great building, so closely connected with all the history of our race and nation. It is natural that we should ask ourselves if, in so doing, we are merely gratifying a vague sentiment, or indulging in harm- less antiquarianism. " Everything," it may be said, " has a beginning ; but that beginning has little real connexion with the results which have followed from it. Accident has developed and given shape to some undertakings, a shape unforeseen by him who gave the first impulse. It is futile to give him credit for what he never intended." We must admit the limits of human foresight ; but no man ever embarked upon a great monumental work without some idea to in- spire his effort. A founder may have nothing new to say. He is possessed of an idea which is common to many. What is peculiar to him is the conviction that the idea is true and therefore imperishable ; he wishes to give it a form which later times may better if they can. Men have different modes of expressing them- selves and impressing their message on the world. Some labour at affairs as statesmen or men of busi- ness ; some increase human knowledge ; some speak 1 An address delivered in Westminster Abbey on the Festival of the Translation of St. Edward the Confessor, I3th October, 1896, 16 241 242 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES through the medium of literature and art ; some create educational institutions ; and some leave be- hind them monumental buildings. But all alike must be convinced of the greatness of what they are doing, of its possibilities in the future, and of its inherent power. All of them are more or less ani- mated by the spirit of the founder of one of the colleges at Cambridge, who, when challenged about the object of his foundation answered, " I have set an acorn which, when it becomes an oak, God only knows what may be the fruit thereof". 1 Perhaps in an ordinary way we do not sufficiently recognise the value of great buildings as a means of inspiring great ideas and keeping alive a sense of the nobility of life. Yet surely nothing appeals so di- rectly and so powerfully to every one alike. Try to imagine London without this Abbey and the Houses of Parliament on this site, and you will dimly realise what I mean. Travel in new countries which have no memorials of an historic past, and you find your mental atmosphere entirely changed. Somehow or other you think on a lower level. Places have char- acters of their own which influence you in spite of yourself. And if you carry your investigation far enough you will find that that character was the creation of some individual mind, susceptible, of course, to the influences which were at work around it, but giving them conscious form, and so making a decided mark which determined future development. The character impressed upon its capital is a great 1 This was said by Sir Walter Mildmay, founder of Emmanuel College. SAINT EDWARD THE CONFESSOR 243 factor in a nation's growth. The site of the capital is decided by its natural advantages ; but the use made of the site, the ideas which it is made to express these are a permanent element in the national life, which somehow responds to the demands made upon it by an outward symbol of its dignity and greatness. If this be so, I think we must recognise the Abbey and Palace of Westminster as the group of buildings which, with their surroundings, are the most expres- sive monument of England's life in the past, and of its aspirations in the present. They rank, and will rank for ever, with the Acropolis of Athens or the Capitol of Rome : not, it may be, so distinctive, not so clearly cut for that is not England's characteristic but equally expressive. It is natural for us to commemorate the man who first gave this site its definite form, and impressed upon it the character which it has ever since retained. He certainly has an imperishable claim upon our remembrance, like all men who devised great things, even though they could not know the greatness which the future had in store. That posterity should have followed in their steps is at least a sign of their foresight and of their just judgment. We are, I think, further justified in separating men's permanent achievements from all else they did or were, and in interpreting their lives by reference to these, and not to what they might have done. I can- not hold up Edward as a great figure in our national history. He was not fitted for the times in which his lot was cast ; he had neither the strong will nor the strong arm needful for a ruler. If he be measured by 16* 244 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES what he accomplished, the result is scanty. If he be appraised as a king, his reign was inglorious. He was neither a man of counsel nor of action, in days when both were needed. Yet he left behind him a memory which his people venerated, a memory which was a solace to them in times of misery and oppression. Somehow or other he impressed himself on their imagination ; and there are periods in national life when the imagination alone remains vital, and cher- ishes conceptions which may grow in secret till they can again force their way to vigorous and open life. When England fell before the Norman power, it was not in the recollection of the statecraft of God wine or the bravery of Harold pure English as they were that the English temper took refuge, but in the simpler and more intelligible figure of the well-meaning and gracious king who did little but loved much. It is well to remember this fact, for it calls up thoughts which give us a needful sense of the large meaning of life. When we come to weigh and measure, with our imperfect standards, we neces- sarily take into account practical capacity and use- fulness in affairs. These can be seen and valued. But the qualities which fire the imagination and cap- tivate the heart are diffused and impalpable. We seldom have an opportunity of seizing the general impression produced by a life and character. Only sometimes, at a great crisis, is this definitely realised as a possession which remains, when all sense of prac- tical achievements has passed away. Men catch at this impression it is the only thing left, and they live in the power of its suggestiveness. A time SAINT EDWARD THE CONFESSOR 34.5 comes when they wish to hand on that impression to others. Then they attempt to explain it on material grounds, and it is lost in legend, which soon ceases to awaken any response. The original charm evaporates ; and subsequent generations, fail- ing to find it in the crude records which remain, disregard it altogether, or explain it away by a pro- cess as wrongly mechanical as that which gave it shape. We may be sure that no man was revered without in some way deserving it. It is the wisest plan to try and discover what was the secret of his influence, what was the fragrance attaching to the memory which he left behind. Edward lived in difficult times, and he was both by education and temperament unable to deal with those difficulties in the practical form in which they were presented to him. Indeed, it is impossible for us to discover the secret of England's helplessness before its Danish conquerors at the end of the tenth century. Perhaps it was greatly due to the fact that progress in civilisation had been too rapid, and changes in the surroundings of social life followed too quickly. The English were not a quick or sharp-witted people. They were solid enough and vigorous, but they needed time to adapt themselves to changes, more time than events allowed. The impulses which they received from without were too rapid and too imperative. Their original institutions, simple in themselves, be- came complicated from too frequent demands for re- adjustment. The unity of the nation had come too speedily ; the people had not risen to a sense of what it entailed. In the face of an invading foe organisa- 246 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES tion failed ; men were helpless because they did not clearly know what was expected of them. The tide of the Danish invasion ebbed and flowed, and there was but a vague sense of national resistance. When Edward came to the throne, he was amongst a people suffering from bewilderment. Their hearts were ready, but their heads were at fault. They were true patriots, and nourished a vigorous national life ; but they knew not how to display their patriotism. They had long been destitute of leaders in whom they could trust. The motives of the chief men of this time are hopelessly perplexing, as we do not know enough of the conditions of the time to attempt to explain them. But we see that their motives were mainly personal, and rested upon no clear conception of the public welfare. In fact men asked themselves the question, What is the future of England to be ? And they had no clear answer to give. The common folk were without guidance. They wished to live their lives in peace, in the old way ; but they had no sense of security and no outward assurance of stability. The lack of " rede," or counsel, was attached as an epithet to the ill-fated Ethelred. England found itself in the hands of a Danish conqueror, it scarcely knew how or why ; and though it enjoyed peace and prosperity under his rule, it was not happy. Canute's death brought a renewal of the divisions, the treachery, and the self-seeking which had become too sadly familiar. When the last of the Danes passed away England turned again, with an enthusiasm which sprang from despair, to its old royal house, and welcomed Edward back from exile, SAINT EDWARD THE CONFESSOR 247 Seldom was one summoned to a difficult position who showed so few signs of fitness. Driven as a child from England, he had been brought up amongst his mother's folk in Normandy. He was a stranger to England and its ways, but at least he had not been a witness of his father's feebleness or his mother's follies. He had lived amid the sterner and more de- cided men of Normandy, who had a keener practical capacity than had the English, who knew little of hesitation, but steadfastly pursued their ends. Yet Edward took no part in their busy life, and was not affected by their activity and enterprise. He was attracted apparently by the finer side of their civilisa- tion. Through closer intercourse with the rest of Europe the ecclesiastical life of Normandy was more highly developed than that of England. In those days of perpetual warfare, the most effective form of setting forth the Christian temper was in the form of a protest, that is by monasticism. Men despaired of blending the secular and the religious life. All they could do was to provide an expression for the religious life, away from and apart from the world, that its perpetual protest might at least be of some avail. There were places to which men worn out with active service, wearied with the poverty of the world's guerdon, might retire and pray against evils which they were helpless to amend. The only hope of raising society was in maintaining a strong con- trast to its common ways. But it is ever more easy to set up a protest than to keep it to its purpose. The forces of the world are always surging round the barriers erected to restrain them. Monasteries of 248 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES older foundations decayed through prosperity, and ceased to act as a contrast to the world. New foundations were made with more rigorous rules, and more fervent zeal in their first occupants ; they were placed in wilder spots and fenced round with greater care. But all was of no avail ; and they in their turn were submerged like their predecessors. Yet no better expression of the religious life could be de- vised ; and periods of spiritual movement were always marked by new projects for monasticism. This spirit was working in Normandy in the days of Edward, and took conspicuous shape in the great abbey of Bee, which was so intimately connected with the Eng- lish Church in later days. It may be that Edward held converse with its knightly founder. Certainly he loved the abbey of Jumieges, and held its abbot as his greatest friend. Perhaps it was there that he learned his taste for architecture, his love of the actual surroundings of a church, his joy in its services. It was to these things that his mind turned, and we may accept the words which an old poet puts into his mouth as expressing his feelings : When I was young in Normandy, Much I loved the holy company Of people of religion, Who loved only all that was good ; Especially a monk who led A high and heavenly life ; But two I found there most loyal, Wise and spiritual, Sensible and well instructed, And virtuously disposed. Much their company delighted me, And through them I amended my ways In courtesy, speech, and wisdom, SAINT EDWARD THE CONFESSOR 249 Indeed all the motives which in those days turned men to religion were operative on the young Edward. He was a stranger and an exile, fatherless and aban- doned by his mother. He heard of nothing but tales of misery from his native land ; and he was exposed to constant peril from plots against his person, as he was a hindrance to many ambitious plans at home. Again we may follow the poet : News came to me often ; News of the death of my father, News of the marriage of my mother, News of Edward my brother, Which was worse than the rest, News of my nephews Who were slain by gluttonous Danes : Then of Alfred, my brother, who Was destroyed and died in Ely. I was watched as a prisoner, Nor was I safe even in a monastery. Besides God and His Mother I had no Comfort, and my lord Saint Peter And Saint John the Evangelist. It was under the penetrating discipline of sorrow that the character of the young Edward was formed. He saw all his relatives one by one swept away by a remorseless destiny ; and in his growing solitude he took refuge with God. The land of his birth was to him only the source of unnumbered woes. His lot was bound up with it, and he must do his duty, what- ever it might be ; but he took no pleasure in the thought. So when Edward, at the age of forty, was called to the English throne, he came to discharge an office for which he felt no special fitness. He had little of the 250 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES joy of living left in him : he had no thirst for power ; he had no policy which he wished to carry out. A sense of the vanity of life already possessed him, and tinged his character with gentle melancholy. All he hoped for was to keep himself unspotted from the world, and to live worthy of his Christian calling. Politics must settle themselves, for he at all events had no decisive word to speak. He had a few personal predilections, which he wished to indulge ; but that was all. Perhaps he did not know how much they involved, how the entire life of a ruler is necessarily interwoven with the fortunes of his people. It was a lesson which he had to learn. I do not purpose to relate the facts of Edward's reign. I am concerned with explaining why an in- competent king became a national saint and hero. One reason no doubt was that very incompetence. He was like his people in having no answer to give to the difficulties of the present ; but he consoled them by pointing to a vague yet glorious future. The statesmen of the time, like the statesmen of all times, were engaged in making the best of things. This is of course a statesman's business ; but it is oftentimes a thankless task, especially when there is small hope of combining the people into resolute action. If Edward had possessed capacity and foresight, he would have thought it his duty to devise a policy of his own. But Edward knew that he had neither of these qualities ; and he did not attempt to meddle with things which he confessed to be beyond him. He turned to what was within his power. If he could not direct his nation's destinies, he might at least do something to SAINT EDWARD THE CONFESSOR 251 mould the character of his subjects. If he could not help them in the present distress, he might leave behind him a legacy of hope to support them in the dark days which were coming. Some form of re- organisation he saw was imminent ; some transforma- tion of the national life, which was feeble, distracted, impotent ; so unlike that life which he had quitted in Normandy, a life which was cruel, hard, unlovely, but full of energy and force, which he failed to find in England. A change must come, a new birth of some sort ; and the birth-pangs would be severe, men's hearts would fail them, and they would look here and there for succour. Dreamily, languidly, uncertainly, Edward thought of himself as the shadow of a rock in a thirsty land. Hence he made no effort to form a policy of his own, or to gather a party. Earl Godwine was in power, and Edward accepted him. He took his daughter to wife, and was rejoiced to find in her traces of like-mindedness with himself. But he was a man whose habits were already formed, and who was dependent on companionship. He welcomed old friends from Normandy, to whom he could talk more freely than to the English. He welcomed above all ecclesiastics who could speak of Church matters from a higher point of view than that with which English prelates were familiar. But he was no judge of men, and easily fell under the influence of the most plaus- ible speaker. He did not care to meddle with matters of the State, but in the affairs of the Church he thought he might exercise a wholesome influence. The secular government of England was beyond him, 252 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES but at least he might do something to raise its Church to a higher conception of practical activity. It was a worthy thought, in itself just and true. We know how large a part was played in the remaking of England by the capacity, intellectual and practical alike, of Norman ecclesiastics at whose head stood Lanfranc. If Edward could have infused new vigour into the English Church by a wise choice of capable leaders, he might have rendered to the England of his day the best and truest service. But Edward, even in his highest practical aims, could not rise to wisdom. He was too indolent to inquire and select. His instru- ments for a great object were not chosen with a view to the work which they were to do. He merely took the men at hand, those who possessed his ear, who humoured him, and had their own interests to serve in doing so. They thirsted for power, not for ecclesi- astical but for secular purposes. They did not strive to identify themselves with England, but to raise a foreign party in favour of Norman influence. The English opinion of one of Edward's bishops in the see of Durham was shortly recorded in the words that " he did nought bishop-like therein ". Edward's chief favourite, Robert, Abbot of Jumieges, soon be- came his adviser, so that men said, " If he declared a black crow to be white, the King would sooner believe his words than his own eyes ". Robert became Arch- bishop of Canterbury, and stirred the King to rebel against the power of Godwine. For a brief period he prevailed ; and the old earl who had so long held the chief power in England made way for the scheming Norman prelate. But Godwine returned, and Arch- SAINT EDWARD THE CONFESSOR 253 bishop Robert fled from the land of his adoption. Edward's attempt to reinvigorate English life through the Church was an entire failure. It was ill-planned and ill-considered. It was dragged into the current of passing events and was stifled in the atmosphere of political intrigue. Exhausted by his one attempt to act for himself, Edward quietly fell back into the power of Godwine and his nobler son. The govern- ment of England was practically left in the hands of Harold. Yet, if Edward could bring no help to England by counsel or by action, if his efforts at ecclesiastical revival ended in disaster, there was still something which he could offer to his subjects, and that was the influence of his life and character. It is not the most capable men who are most impressive, nor the wisest who are most popular. England was helpless, and it may be that men dimly felt that their king repre- sented them only too truly when he meekly and mutely confessed his helplessness. At least he could clothe it with dignity and express it with grace. He could bear it with resignation, and foreshadow a future which he was unable to advance. There was a pathetic charm about this last descendant of the old English line of kings. Well proportioned and stately, with snow-white hair and beard, which surrounded a rosy face of cherubic serenity ; with slender, nervous hands, of which the long white fingers were of the delicacy of wax, he had an air of royal distinction. He was dignified in public, and could gracefully relax in private, though he never forgot that he was a king. He was affable and gracious to all, and though he 254 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES liked to be bountiful he could refuse a request in such a manner as to gratify him who made it. Though gentle and amiable, he had won self-control by dis- cipline ; for at times his face would blaze with anger, but he never allowed his wrath to find expression in words. In an age of gross intemperance in food and drink, he set an example of sobriety ; and though he appreciated the necessity for a due magnificence on great occasions, he was simple in ordinary life, and was entirely free from vanity. He was compassionate and charitable, and admonished all in power that they should do justice fairly and freely. He was punctilious in his religious duties, but this was not uncommon. What was uncommon was that he was not only present in body at the services of the Church, but that he attended to them. It is noted of him with wonder that he rarely talked at such times unless some one asked him a question. Yet he was no ascetic recluse, for his great delight was in hunting, in which he mixed freely with his people. Moreover, he had a certain quaint humour, which men scarcely understood, but which impressed them and made them think. Thus, one day when he was hunting, a peasant spoiled his sport by throwing down the hurdles which directed the stag into the net. The King was angry, but soon checked himself, and in- stead of harming the offender, merely exclaimed, " I will do you such an ill turn some day, if I get the chance ". In the same way he watched one of his servants pillage his treasure chest, which had been left open in the room while he slept. Twice the thief made away with as much as he could carry ; SAINT EDWARD THE CONFESSOR 455 when he came a third time the King startled him by the remark, " Make haste, for the treasurer is coming ; if he catches you, he will not leave you with a halfpenny ". Such sallies as these were re- membered at the time, and in later days were the subject of serious comment, which missed their real interest. A man of such a character was quite outside the ordinary types of the time. He would have been attractive and interesting at any time ; he was much more so in his own day. Never since Alfred has there been a king who was at once so homely and so picturesque. Men forgave him that he did little or nothing. What, they may have asked themselves, could he do ? But he gave them a sense of repose and trustfulness. He was kindly and compassionate, and men were glad to be reminded that such qualities still had a place in the world. He loved justice and tried to preserve it ; and justice is what men under- stand and love above all else. It is doubtful if all this would have perpetuated the name of Edward if he had not condensed his general good intentions into a definite act, if he had not been prompted to express them in a memorial which could appeal to the eyes of men. It is the foundation of this great Abbey Church which has kept his memory alive through the ages. If he could do nothing to express his meaning for himself, at least he might leave behind him a monument which others might understand. It is said that Edward's plan of a great foundation near London was in commutation of a vow of pilgrimage to Rome. He well might feel 256 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES that England needed some conspicuous holy place of its own, which might set forth the basis and the meaning of its national life. He had seen such monuments springing up in Normandy on a scale of magnificence unknown in England. He might at least leave the land of his birth some memorial of his foreign culture of those vague ideas and aspirations which he was unable to make vital in any reforms of organisation or heightening of intel- lectual or spiritual standard. Edward's main object is clear from the choice which he made of the site for his foundation. He chose this spot, then lying a little way outside the western gate of London, pleasantly surrounded by green meadows. It was an island of the Thames, and bore the name of Thorney, from the bushes which covered it ; and on it stood a little monastery, founded in early times, and dedicated to St. Peter, as the great foundation in the city was dedicated to St. Paul. The monastery was poor, and its buildings were mean. Edward resolved to revive it and house it in splendour. By its side he built a royal palace, where he abode. Thus the chief city of his realm the centre of com- merce and of business should see, rising just beyond its borders, an abiding symbol of the union of Church and State. In the middle towered the great Church. On one side of it was the abode of men who gave their life to prayer and to the service of God. On the other side was the royal palace ; the Bayeux Tapestry de- picts it as connected with the Church by a bridge. From the house of God was to come the power and wisdom which alone could give lasting effect to the SAINT EDWARD THE CONFESSOR 257 designs and efforts of the ruler. This was Edward's great conception, and amid the changes of time and circumstances that conception remains as true, as sub- lime, as penetrating as it was when first it struggled into form. Of Edward's church scarcely anything is left in the stately structure which has replaced it, and which drew its inspiration from it But we know that the original building far exceeded anything previously built in England, and marked the beginning of our national architecture. It produced a deep impression on men's minds ; for it is true at all times that nothing expresses national self-confidence so much as does the scale and dignity of public buildings. It was just this scale and dignity which Edward introduced into Eng- land. He had seen the new style developing in Nor- mandy, and he made use of all that Norman skill and inventiveness had devised. But he built upon a larger scale than was known even in Normandy, and he taught the English people to understand and love the builder's craft. Listen how his church is de- scribed : He laid the foundations of the church With large square blocks of grey stone : Its foundations are deep. The front towards the east he makes round, The stones are very strong and hard ; In the centre rises a tower, And two at the western front ; And fine and large bells he hangs there. The pillars and entablature Are rich without and within ; At the bases and the capitals The work rises grand and royal ; 17 258 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES Sculptured are the stones And storied the windows ; All are made with skill Of good and loyal workmanship. It was Edward's work which set up a new standard to the Normans themselves when they came here. The first impulse came from Normandy, but England at once surpassed its teacher. Englishmen suddenly found a new field opened out for their energies, and wrought with a skill and deftness which enabled them to give back a new impulse to the land whence they first learned. After two generations of efforts un- paralleled in the history of architecture, a chronicler could still write : " Edward first built in England a church in the new style, which nowadays all are imi- tating at great expense". It is true to say that Edward imposed upon posterity a sense of grandeur and dig- nity which they had not known before. This was not accidental, for the whole heart and mind of Edward were given to his church. He watched it grow, and saw it rise and speak out what he had not the power to say. He wished to live long enough to see it finished and then to lay his bones within its walls, and his wish was fulfilled. The church was consecrated on Holy Innocents' Day, 1065, but its royal founder was too ill to take part in the cere- mony ; yet such was his interest in it that he struggled against his malady till he heard the sounds of the chanting, and received the news that the sacred rite was accomplished. Then he fell into a swoon, and lay for some days speechless. He presently rallied and addressed his weeping wife and the friends SAINT EDWARD THE CONFESSOR 259 gathered round his bed. He spoke of a time of evil coming on the land as a punishment for injustice and wrong-doing, but foretold a future restoration. All listened in awe save Archbishop Stigand, who muttered that the old man doted. Then Edward bade farewell to his wife, and commended her to the care of her brother Harold. He received the last sacraments, and then almost immediately he died. He was buried next day in the church which had just been prepared for his burial-place. Scarce had the joyful psalms of its consecration died away before its walls echoed with Edward's dirge. So close and so immediate was the connexion between the founder and the church which he raised a connexion which, in spite of all changes, has never been broken. Still the shrine of Edward the Confessor occupies the most honourable place in his Minster of the West. Men cherished his memory, and the Church ratified their sentiment. We need not stop to examine the ways in which that sentiment displayed itself, or criti- cise the legends to which it gave birth. Appreciation of the finer forms of thought and feeling was hard to express or justify. The Church set up its system after the pattern of the system of the world, and clothed spiritual attractiveness with the attributes of power. Power of course it had, but it was that of mute intangible appeal, which could not be defined or classified. This was felt to be unsatisfactory ; holiness must have its record of definite success, of mastery over the material world. Such a record does not move us nowadays, and we wish that we had more knowledge of the spirit of the man. It is this which 260 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES I have tried to set before you. Edward was a poet, whose poem was written in stone. " He sang of what the world would be when the ages had passed away." He set up the palace and monastery of Westminster as a symbol of that Divine order which must bring harmony into the world's affairs. Century after cen- tury the burghers of London looked out upon it, and learned something of its lesson. Age after age the rulers of England entered upon their high office in the walls of Edward's minster, under the shadow of Edward's shrine. Beside that minster England's business has constantly been transacted. That busi- ness was beyond Edward's power ; rulers and states- men have nothing to learn from his achievements. But his gracious spirit, his fine feeling, his love of righteousness, his care for justice these are qualities which can never be out of date. The world amply re- cognises and rewards the qualities which it needs for its own purposes. It is the great function of the Church to be the home of men's finer feelings, of their unexpressed aspirations, of their vague searchings after something which they could not compass. These made the atmosphere of Edward's life, and his min- ster was the result of a conscious effort to hand them on to others, who might win from them the inspiration needed to face life's problems with a bolder spirit in happier times that were to be. THE PICTURESQUE IN HISTORY. 1 IT is an old controversy whether history is a branch of literature or a branch of science ; but there is no reason why the controversy should ever be decided. A book is written ; it must take its chance. It is cast upon the world to exercise such influence as it can, to teach or to attract, to mould thought or to create interest, to solve questions or to suggest them. There is always one consoling reflection for authors, which ought to save them from disappointment. The deeper the im- pression which a book produces, the smaller is the circle of its readers likely to be. The general public likes to take its journeys by easy stages, and will not be carried too far all at once. Only a select few will be ready to undertake a serious expedition ; but they are the explorers, and through their efforts knowledge will ultimately grow. When pioneers have entered upon a new field, it takes some time before the com- munications are made which make travelling easy. Meanwhile, ideas and notions float disjointedly into the general stock of knowledge, and affect public opinion insensibly in various ways. Knowledge of the past is of value as it affords a background against which men view the present. It is of some value, as 1 A lecture delivered before the Royal Institution of Great Britain on 5th February, 1897. 261 262 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES likely to affect men's judgment of what is going on around them, that they should feel that there has been a past at all. Every additional item of knowledge about the process by which human society has slowly reached its present form is of increasing value. From whatever source it comes to them, it is so much to the good. History is to be welcomed, whatever form it assumes. There can be no doubt that in late years there has been a very decided increase of general interest in history amongst us. The nature of political questions, and the tendency of thought about social questions, have given a decided impulse in this direc- tion. In small towns and villages, historical subjects are amongst the most popular for lectures ; and his- torical allusions are acceptable to all audiences. It was not so fifteen years ago. At that time I re- member an eminent statesman speaking to me sadly of his experience. He had been speaking to a vast audience in the open air, under the shadow of one of our oldest cathedrals. The crowd was so great that it had to be addressed from various platforms, of which he occupied one. He told me that he was led by his architectural surroundings to indulge in a peroration in which he exhorted his hearers to act worthily of their mighty past, and pointed to the splendid build- ing as a perpetual memorial of the great deeds and noble aspirations of their forefathers. The allusion fell upon dull ears ; no cheer was raised ; the point was entirely missed. My friend then strolled to the next platform, where a longer-winded orator was in- dulging in a lengthier speech. He, too, selected the THE PICTURESQUE IN HISTORY 263 cathedral to give local colour to his peroration. He denounced the wrongs of the people, and shook his fist at the great church as the symbol of oppression, the home of purse-proud prelates who adorned them- selves and their belongings at the expense of the poor. But in this case also no cheer followed ; again a rhe- torical sally which owed its point to any feeling for the past was unheeded. The working men cared neither for the good nor the evil of the past ; their minds were set upon the present, and that was enough for them. I think this indifference would not be shown nowadays. One view or the other would raise a hearty cheer. There is nowadays a conception that things have grown, and that the way to mend them is to get them to grow in the right direction. This attitude of mind is the abiding con- tribution which a knowledge of history will make to social progress. Perhaps every branch of knowledge is more valuable for the temper which it creates, which can be shared by every one, than by its direct contri- butions, which can be judged by only a few. Again, I say, let us welcome the results of knowledge in any and every form. It is not, however, my intention to-night to criticise the various ways in which history has been written. It is enough to say that it is not absolutely necessary to be dull in order to prove that you are wise, or to repress all human emotion in order to show that you are strictly impartial. On the other hand, the per- petual appeal to sentiment grows tedious, and the steadfast desire to construct a consistent character by disregarding uncomfortable facts, or explaining them 264 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES away, does not carry conviction. It is even more im- possible to write history with a purpose than it is to write fiction with a purpose. Fiction can at least select its own limitations, and professedly excludes all the events of the lives of its characters except those which suit its immediate purpose. We know that the state of the world's affairs could not be set to suit a particular past, and that men cannot be read into the expression of abstract principles. History is very impatient of direct morals. Its teaching is to be found in large tendencies, which, it may be, are very imperfectly traceable within particular limits. History cannot be made picturesque by the skill of the writer. It must be picturesque in itself if it is to be so at all. All that the writer can claim is the artistic insight which discerns the elements of a for- cible composition in unexpected places, and reveals unknown beauties by compelling attention to what might otherwise be overlooked. We may agree that history should be made as picturesque as possible ; but picturesqueness cannot be applied in patches. Characters must be made life-like by remembering that after all they were human beings, neither wholly good nor wholly bad, but animated by motives analogous to those which animate ourselves and are common to man in all ages. An historian ought to live with his characters as much as possible, and form a conception of their temperament and appearance, so as to feel that he is dealing, not with dummies, but with real persons. This is not always the method pursued. I remember being told by a friend that he was in a great library, and saw THE PICTURESQUE IN HISTORY 265 a popular writer anxiously searching the catalogue, with a bundle of proofs under his arm. He proffered his assistance, as he was merely reading at large for a few days, and would be glad to have an object. " Oh," said the author with a sigh, " I want to know the colour of So-and-so's hair, and I don't know where to find out." My friend spent three days in discovering this fact, and observed, when the book appeared, that the information was used in a descrip- tion of the hero at a great crisis of his fortunes : " He stood with his shock of red hair and flashing eyes," etc. Now in this case it is obvious that the judgment on which the book was written was formed first, and then picturesque details were sought to deck it out. I have sometimes meditated whether or no the judg- ment would have been the same if the writer had known at first that his hero had red hair. As we are affected in daily life by personal appearance as an index of character, so we might well be affected by some corresponding conception of temperament in great men of the past. Historical portraits are very valuable ; the knowledge how a man's appearance impressed those who saw him is equally valuable. No outburst of description makes a man real. This is only possible by a sympathy between the writer and his character, which penetrates all that he says of him. A large, yet consistent, representation is the best form of picturesqueness in this important field. The danger of an excessive desire for picturesque- ness is that it leads to a purely external view of the course of affairs. The writer passes hastily from one strongly marked personality to another, from one 266 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES striking event to another, and neglects all that lies between them. Yet personalities are only really interesting as they exhibit tendencies which are widely spread ; and it is the strength of these ten- dencies which finds expression in the dominating character. In fact, the character itself is of no value for the purposes of history, unless it be brought into relation with the general conditions of life and thought which produced it. This is the difference between history and fiction. For the purposes of fiction, you have to grant the possibility of the char- acter which is analysed or displayed in action. For the purposes of history, you have to understand the correspondency of the character with the conditions and circumstances of national life. It requires a skilful delineation of those conditions to give a character historical reality. He cannot be detached from his background. His whole interest lies in the fact that he really existed, and he must above all things be made possible. The reader must not be left bewil- dered and amazed, asking himself what sort of men lived on the earth in those days, and what were the interests and pursuits of the ordinary man. It is obvious, therefore, that all history cannot be made equally picturesque, and that it is useless to attempt to make it so by deliberate omissions of all that is not picturesque. We must take human affairs as they come. After all, men did not live in the past for our amusement, but for our instruction. There were probably as many dull people in the past as there are in the present, and we may console our- selves with that reflection. I can see no reason why THE PICTURESQUE IN HISTORY 267 any one should read history except because he wishes to learn how things really went on. I do not know that any method of writing can make them always exciting. I hear people sometimes complain, "The newspapers are very dull to-day ". I find they mean that there is no record of a great accident, or a horrible murder, or a political catastrophe. I think, however, they would change their remark and be- come very serious if, let us suppose, the newspapers chronicled a great railway accident on every day in one week. They would crave for a period of un- eventfulness, and think that it was more permanently satisfying. We need a stable basis to rest upon before we can find comfortable pleasure in contem- plating instability. Picturesqueness must have an element of restfulness. It is not to be found in constant excitement, but in clear cut and attractive presentation of events. The possibility of such presentation, strange to say, becomes greater as the events are more remote. This is due to two causes : first, that we have made up our minds more clearly about what is important in the past ; secondly, because the amount of materials which are available is limited. There is an immense difference between writing history previous to the sixteenth century and writing history after that date, owing to the nature of the material. The change which separates modern from mediaeval times was made by the conscious growth of nations, and the consequent complexity of international relations. The difficulty of dealing with modern history is the impossibility of isolating events and their results. 268 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES This truth is expressed in the amazing development of diplomacy and in the vast multiplication of docu- ments, which is to the historical craftsman the dividing line between two periods. The contem- porary chronicler, who was previously the chief authority, sinks into the background. The historian has to wander patiently through endless byways, which apparently lead nowhere. It is comparatively easy to form a clear conception of a man's character when you have only the general outlines of his life and the record of his permanent achievements. It is much more difficult when you can follow his projects from day to day. The great mass of those projects came to nothing. Yet it is true, if we look to private life, that a man's character is more revealed by what he tries to do than by what he succeeds in doing. Indeed, it is not paradoxical to say that his abiding in- fluence is expressed by his aspirations rather than by his achievements. His most fruitful heritage is, gener- ally speaking, his temper, his attitude towards life, his method of facing its problems. The great question is, Did he heighten or did he lower the sense of duty of those amongst whom he lived and worked ? The same mode of judgment seems to me to hold true in the large affairs in which history is concerned. Before we can judge a statesman rightly we must follow his aims and methods in detail. He could only com- mand certain forces, the power of which was best known to himself. It is easy to prescribe an heroic policy at great crises, to lament apparent pusillan- imity, and to arrange quietly in one's study, after a lapse of centuries, an ideal termination to political THE PICTURESQUE IN HISTORY 269 difficulties. But we are all of us conscious of the difference between what we would do and what we can do. Everybody who sits on a committee comes away feeling that he could have managed its business better by himself. But the use even of a committee is to show you what available resources a particular line of action can command ; and you generally depart with a conviction that it is only the second- best policy which has any chance of immediate success. Statesmen in the past suffered under the same limitations. The possession of supreme power by rulers is only apparent. Somehow or other they had to discover what the nation was likely to do, and more than that they could not venture to undertake. Improvements in the mechanism of government are of use as they enable statesmen to gauge more accurately the forces on which they can rely. There is one lesson that comes from reading diplomatic records : it is that rulers were always trying to make the best of a bad business. Parliamentary obstruc- tion is only a condensed form of what had always to be reckoned with. The outward expression of ten- dencies has changed, rather than the tendencies themselves. It is very difficult to clothe with any appearance of interest abortive attempts which came to nothing, which were put forward in ambiguous language, and were often cloaks to some further purpose behind. Yet, as a matter of fact, these constituted the main activity of many statesmen, and, if we leave them un- traced or unmentioned, we are missing the point of their laborious lives. There is no more widespread 270 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES delusion than that a man in a great position gets his own way. He is envied by the ignorant and thought- less for his supposed power, for his freedom from those petty inconveniences of which they themselves are keenly conscious. The opportunity to do what one wills this is assumed to be the privilege of those who direct affairs. One of the great lessons of history is to show the bondage, as well as the responsibility, of power. The trials and disappointments of the great deserve recognition not only their failures in great undertakings, the dramatic downfall of over-lofty schemes, but the small difficulties of their daily busi- ness, the imperious limitations by which they were constantly hampered. This has a meaning of direct importance to us all ; but it is hard to make the troubles of daily life picturesque. The writer of fiction moves us by the stirring adventures of his hero and heroine in overcoming difficulties which stood in the way of their marriage. Then he leaves them to settle down to humdrum life as best they can. They are no longer interesting, but become as ignoble and com- monplace as their parents were at the beginning of the book. The historian cannot treat his personages in the same way. He has to face the difficulty of extracting some interest from their average occupa- tions. He is tempted to shirk it, and to hurry on to something in which he can find fuller scope for his power of description. It is, therefore, this diplomatic record which goes far to injure the picturesqueness of history. It con- stantly reveals limitations which could not be over- come. It shows us the hero in his shirt-sleeves, THE PICTURESQUE IN HISTORY 271 labouring mostly in vain, and it enables us to see only too clearly his inevitable defects. But if we look a little longer we see that it enlarges his personality, and exhibits him as the representative of his nation. This really sets him on a higher level, and gives him a greater dignity. He is bearing the burden of his country, and is fettered by her deficiencies. There are many things which might be done if he had the means to do them. He can only reckon on so much, and must make it go as far as he can. His projects are tentative, and he is often obliged to withdraw from much for want of a little. He is not really his own master, but serves a public which imperfectly under- stands its own position and grudges everything it gives. Whatever else picturesqueness may attempt to do, it must not seek to abolish the pathos of humble industry. I have been speaking generally about picturesque ways of writing history, in the ordinary acceptation of the term. Let me attempt to go a little farther, and try to discover in what the picturesqueness of history consists. It is obvious that, if it lies in a series of vivid pictures of events and striking presentations of character, the historian cannot rival the writer of fiction, and historical novels are the proper mode of expressing picturesque presentation. Some historians have felt the need of a more imaginative treatment than their subject properly allowed, and have supple- mented their serious histories by historical novels. But the point which I wish to consider is the sense in which history can be made picturesque, and the reason why some periods of history are more capable of pic- turesque treatment than others. 272 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES Now the term picturesque itself suggests artistic handling ; and it is obvious that in art as much depends on the selection of the subject as on the mode of treating it. An historian is bound by his subject, and cannot make it picturesque if it is not so in reality. The great periods of picturesqueness are those in which personality is most powerful. This constitutes to many minds the charm of the history of Italy, especially in the fifteenth century. There was then a copious supply of determined and adven- turous characters, whose main object was to express themselves fully. Outward circumstances gave them a favourable opportunity. They rose by their own dexterity, and aimed at artistic completeness in all their achievements. They are attractive by their freedom from conventional restraints, by their un- hesitating self-confidence, and by the magnificence of their aims. The same spirit which animated Italy passed on in a somewhat modified form to the rest of Europe in the sixteenth century, and became domes- ticated in France. From that time onward we may say that French history is the most picturesque. Yet it is worth observing that a mere expression of character, unfettered by ordinary restraints, does not of itself satisfy our craving for picturesqueness. In fact, the most purely personal history is that of the later Roman Empire, of the Byzantine Empire, and of its successor, the Russian Empire. For striking scenes and dramatic events, these histories surpass any others. Caligula and Nero, Leo the Isaurian and Irene, Ivan the Terrible and Peter the Great, outstrip in wilfulness and daring anything that Italy or France THE PICTURESQUE IN HISTORY 273 ever produced. Yet they seem to us remote and monstrous ; they do not touch us with any sympathy ; they belong to a range of ideas which is not our own ; they represent characteristics of power with which we are not familiar. It is not enough that scenes should be striking or characters strongly marked. Scenes and characters alike must stand in some definite rela- tion to ourselves and our actual surroundings. I doubt if our interest in Italian history would be so strong, were it not for the fact that its records still remain and have their message for us. Italian princes would be forgotten had they not been patrons of artists and architects, whose works speak to us by their beauty and their grandeur. We wish to know what was the view of life which gave these creations such dignity and grace, who were the men for whom such stately palaces were built, what was the concep- tion of human character and its possibilities which prevailed in the community from which they sprung ? The men themselves are only interesting because they were conspicuous and intelligible instances of tendencies which we wish to see expressed in action, that we may more clearly understand their meaning as expressed in the abstract forms of architecture and art. Our interest is not primarily in the men themselves or their doings, but in the significance of the ideas which lay behind them. The same thing is true of the picturesqueness of French history. We are attracted by the process which produced that mental alertness and precision which characterise the French mind, that power of organising life so as to get the most out of it, which is still the peculiar merit of the French people. 274 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES This leads me to another point. A bald record of events or a faint description of a character by a con- temporary does not suffice for historical picturesque- ness. Things may loom large, and we may see their importance, but we cannot hope to reproduce them by mere exercise of imagination. Picturesqueness must come from adequate materials, and every touch must be real. Imagination, after all, is only an ar- rangement of experience. You cannot really create ; you are only borrowing and adjusting odds and ends according to some dominant conception. It is useless in history to read a man about whom little is known into the likeness of another about whom you may know much. It is useless to reproduce an obscure period in the terms of a period with which you are more familiar. Where we do not know we cannot safely invent. Now picturesqueness in history must depend on the material available for intimate know- ledge. It is only at times when men were keenly interested in life and character that such records were produced. We cannot make the life of Byzantium live again, for the records are formal and official. Outside accounts of magnificence suggest little ; we need the touch of intimacy to give life. In short, picturesqueness is only possible in dealing with periods when literature was vigorous and contem- porary memoirs were plentiful. I should not like to say whether the demand created the supply, or the supply created the de- mand. It is enough that men were interested in themselves and in one another, and have left us the result of their interest. That interest arose from a THE PICTURESQUE IN HISTORY 275 belief in the importance of what was happening, and a power of tracing it to individual action. Hence prominent individuals were closely scanned, their motives were analysed, and the influences which weighed with them were carefully observed. In some cases the men themselves were worthy of study : in other cases their importance was entirely due to their position. But, anyhow, they were repre- sentatives of their times, of the habits, manners and ideas which were current. The picture which we wish to have in our own minds is not merely that of the man, or of the events in which he took part, but of the life and the society which lay behind him. The picturesqueness of history, therefore, is largely due to memoirs ; and the countries and epochs which have produced them are especially picturesque. Now it is great crises, periods of disruption, great emergen- cies, which as a rule impress contemporaries and fur- nish matter for close observation. The production of a crisis is, of course, not the highest sign of human intelligence. In fact, a crisis is due to blundering and incapacity. But when a crisis occurs it is a re- velation of character. This is obvious in the drama. It is impossible to represent an ordinary man engaged in his ordinary pursuits. To show what sort of man he is, it is necessary to place him in an extraordinary and unexpected position ; then all his hidden strength or weakness comes to light. A man can only be de- fined by his limitations ; and these are only obvious when he has to act on his own initiative, robbed of his ordinary props, and forced to draw upon his own intellectual and moral resources. Hence it comes 18 * 276 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES that we feel the attraction of troublous times in history, and regard them as the most picturesque. The Great Rebellion and the French Revolution have furnished endless motives to dramatists, novelists and painters, because they suggest possibilities of striking contrasts, and afford available situations. The human interest is then most intense, and our sympathies are most easily awakened. But though such times are the best for displaying individual character, it may be doubted if they are the best for displaying national life and national character. Indeed, they exaggerate differing tenden- cies which, in an ordinary way, work harmoniously together, and force them into violent opposition. It is true that the tendencies were there, that they rested upon certain ideas and made for certain ends. But, in the exigencies of a struggle, they assumed un- due proportions and became one-sided through the apparent necessity of denying any right of existence to the ideas opposed to them. In short, national life depends on the blending of various elements, and the co-operation on a large scale of efforts which, regarded on a small scale, seem to be diametrically opposed. Periods of revolution destroy this process, and make the apparent opposition an absolute one for a time, so that the parallel between the individual and the nation fails in this point. A crisis in the life of the individual reveals his true character, because it com- pels him to gather together the various elements of which that character is composed and condense them into a decisive act. In the case of a nation the con- trary occurs. The crisis dissolves the bonds which THE PICTURESQUE IN HISTORY 277 bind national character together, and sets some of its elements against others. All are equally necessary ; they must ultimately be recombined and reabsorbed ; they do not really exist in the form in which they show themselves under the exigencies of conflict. Revolutionary epochs may be the most interesting, but they are not the most instructive. They may show us forcible characters, but these characters are rarely attractive. They may emphasise national char- acteristics, but they do not show them in the form in which they really work. It is true that a decisive choice will be made of the elements which are to be dominant in the new combination. So far as those elements were unknown and unsuspected before, the in- terest lies in discovering their origin and the source whence they drew their power. The picturesqueness of revolutionary periods is really dramatic and psy- chological, not strictly historical. We come back, therefore, to the position that history is picturesque at those epochs when national tendencies are expressed in individual characters, and when the consciousness of this fact creates a literary study of those characters which is given in considerable detail. It is worth while to go a step further, and consider what may be learned from this fact. Perhaps this may best be done by reference to the history of our own country, with which we are most familiar. English history is not very picturesque. It has not produced a large number of striking situations or of strongly marked characters. It is by no means rich in memoirs, and the most striking times have not called forth the most vivid description of their 278 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES incidents. There is no brilliant biography of Oliver Cromwell, for instance, by a contemporary. We have to piece together materials for the characters of Henry VIII., Elizabeth, Mary Queen of Scots and Charles I. No one at the time attempted to grasp them. The dramatic moments of their careers were only dimly and imperfectly felt. Let me illustrate what I meant when I said that it was impossible for later writers to create deeper impressions than were present in the minds of contemporaries. Two situations occur to me as surpassing all others in English history in vividness and dramatic effect ; they are the murder of St. Thomas of Canterbury and the death of Wolsey. This is entirely due to the fact that they profoundly moved men's minds at the time, and are recorded in language which is full of the emotion so engendered. Both were regarded as great and significant catas- trophes, important in themselves and in their results. The death of Wolsey is a remarkable instance. In outward circumstance it is inferior to the execution of More or the burning of Cranmer. Yet it remains more picturesque. We feel that More and Cranmer fell in a way like soldiers on the field of battle. They shared the fortunes of their cause, and our interest lies in discovering the exact point on which they took their intellectual stand, and laid down their lives rather than take a step further. But Wolsey is a type of human fortunes, of the inherent limitations of man's endeavours, of the sudden reversal of high hopes, of the restless chafing of an imprisoned spirit, and its final despair. This position arises from the literary skill of his biographer, Cavendish, reflecting THE PICTURESQUE IN HISTORY 279 doubtless the permanent impression of his time, and expressing with deepening melancholy the profound pathos of the wreckage of a life. This intensity of feeling could not have gathered round an ordinary career, but was engendered by the profound convic- tion that, with the fall of Wolsey, England had entered upon a new course in its national life a course the end and goal of which no man could foresee. Wolsey had striven to make England powerful in a changing world. He had created forces which he could not restrain within the limits that his prudence had pre- scribed. There was deeper emotion at the downfall of him who strove to keep the peace than over the sad fate of combatants on either side when once war had been proclaimed. It is only the pen of one who is conscious of living through such a crisis that can be instinct with real feeling and can convey that feeling to after-times. It is curious to observe that these two instances of Thomas of Canterbury and Wolsey are both cases of men who pursued clear and decided objects, and whose characters consequently detached themselves from the general background of contemporary life. The objects which they pursued were not in either case popular, and they had to trust mainly to their own resoluteness and skill for ultimate success. Hence came the attraction of their characters for their biographers. They were men who could be studied and described in themselves, apart from the results of their actions. In fact, any estimate of, or sympathy with, their line of action was entirely secondary to the interest of the men themselves. In 280 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES this sense they resemble the subjects of Italian or French history. They rose to power by their own capacity, and they used their position consciously for the furtherance of objects which they deliberately selected for themselves. It is this which gives a pic- turesque interest to characters in history. We are most easily attracted by a sense of completeness and self-determination. This, indeed, is the artistic quality in character, and alone admits of clear and forcible delineation. Opportunism, however successful, can- not well be depicted clearly ; it must be considered by reference to a number of possibilities, and challenges our judgment at every step. A man who is doing his best under untold difficulties may be heroic, but he rarely enjoys any great moments which set forth his heroism in a striking way. Our judgment may, after a long survey, recognise his worth, but that does not make him picturesque. William the Silent can never fill a large canvas, great as was his contribution to the best interests of the world. The picturesqueness, then, of the history of any nation, or period, depends upon the possibility of an individual detaching himself from ordinary life in such a way as to express in himself its unconscious ten- dencies. The possibility of such individual detach- ment depends on the ideas on which the ordinary life of the nation is founded. If these ideas are to be represented by a person, they must be comparatively simple. For this reason, great crises in a nation's history are the most picturesque, for they simplify national ideas by forcing one or two great principles into temporary supremacy over all else. Yet, even in THE PICTURESQUE IN HISTORY 281 great crises, England has not brought forth clearly representative characters. Oliver Cromwell, for in- stance, was the executor rather than the representative of the principles of the Great Rebellion. They were never definite enough to be summed up by any in- dividual. However highly we may rate Cromwell's capacity, we cannot make him out as eminently picturesque, or place him by the side of Napoleon. We may, I think, go a step further. The ideas on which national life are founded may be ultimately reduced to the national conception of liberty. Ulti- mately, each man values the society of which he forms part for the opportunities which it affords him of doing or being what he wishes to do or be. Now there is a difference, which is not always recognised, in the meaning of liberty to different peoples. It would be a long matter to attempt to explain this difference in detail and account for it. But we may say generally that it depends on the way in which the rights of the individual are regarded in relation to the rights of the community. Let me apply this to the instances of picturesqueness which I have taken. In Italy, in the sixteenth century, the communities were so small, and their position was so precarious, that men longed for the growth of a national spirit, as the limits in which their actual life was lived were too narrow to express that life in its fulness. A nation could only be formed by the power and influence of a dominant and resolute per- sonality. Hence, men were so interested in the development of such a personality, that they were ready to watch various experiments and to endure 282 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES much tyranny in the hopes of final success. This created a curious accentuation of the value of in- dividual character, and an absence of any sense of its limitations, which was undoubtedly fitted to produce picturesqueness, but had serious drawbacks in practice. In the same way, the historical circumstances of the consolidation of the provinces of France under the Monarchy developed a high appreciation of individual character ; and the keenly logical intelligence of the French mind gave it a permanent place in literature. England, on the other hand, became in early times an organised community, and there was no violent break in the pursuit of this organisation. I cannot now trace in detail the results of the different course of English and French history as reflected in the characters of the people. But this at least is obvious : the average Frenchman conceives of himself as hav- ing a right to gratify his individual desires, without thought of others, to a degree unknown to the average Englishman. French civilisation is concerned with the arrangement of the externals of life in the most comfortable way. English civilisation is concerned primarily with political institutions and with the organisation of the activities of life. The Frenchman conceives himself as an individual, the Englishman conceives himself as part of a community. The Frenchman, though wedded to his own country, and having no desire to leave it, still considers himself as a citizen of the world. The Englishman, though a rambler and an adventurer, ready to make his home anywhere, still considers himself an Englishman wherever he goes. France took for the motto of its THE PICTURESQUE IN HISTORY 283 aspirations " Liberty, Equality, Fraternity ". I be- lieve that if England had had occasion to formulate its aspirations in the same way, its motto would have run " Liberty, Justice, Duty ". Now, picturesqueness is obtained by isolating men from their surroundings, by getting clear-cut situations. To this a Frenchman lends himself ; he is accustomed to think and act by and for himself! An Englishman objects to isolation ; however much he may be alone, and however decidedly he may act, it is as a repre- sentative of England, with a mass of national tradition behind him, which he would not rid himself of if he could. He will take enormous responsibility upon himself, but while taking it he repudiates it. He mini- mises his own individual part in what he does, and is persistently apologetic. I think I can illustrate my meaning from our literature. Shakespeare has shown with curious in- sight the difference between northern and southern peoples. Othello and Romeo, when touched with passion, are pure individuals, and act entirely with reference to their own feelings. The difficulties of Hamlet lay in the fact that he could not forget that he was heir to the throne of Denmark, and could not act in such a way that righteous vengeance should seem to be private ambition. He could not escape from his attachment to society, and therefore he will always fail to have the picturesqueness which belongs to individual detachment. I have been speaking of picturesqueness in its ordinary sense. The upshot of my remarks is that, in proportion as history is picturesque in this sense. 284 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES it is not really history. For, history is concerned with the life of the community, and picturesqueness with the character of individuals. But there is, I think, a larger and truer picturesqueness, which may be found, not in details, but in principles. The great object of history is to trace the continuity of national life, and to discover and estimate the ideas on which that life is founded. Individuals are only valuable as they express those ideas and embody that life. Such expressions are often to be found in lowly places, and are manifested in inconspicuous lives. It is the true function of history to discover and exhibit them wherever they may be. In our own history, at all events, I am convinced that we need a heightened sense of the causes which produced those qualities which have created the British Empire. The most picturesque hero is the English people itself, growing through manifold training into the full manhood which it still enjoys. What made it? What prin- ciples does it embody ? How may these principles be enlarged in view of its great and growing respon- sibilities ? These are questions which have an undy- ing interest, and men's minds are being more and rriore turned towards them. For us, at all events, the highest imaginative charm gathers, not round individuals, but round the growth of our conceptions of public duty. To trace the growth of that body of ideas which make up England's contribution to the world's progress, to estimate their defects, and to consider how they may be increased by broader sympathies and greater teach- ableness this is a task which requires the qualities at once of a scientific explorer and of a consummate artist. THE STUDY OF A COUNTRY. 1 THE subject upon which I have undertaken to speak to you may seem at first rather inconclusive, and I do not know that the title of my address exactly ex- presses my meaning. Let me try to explain what it is. The whole process of education is full of fallacies. We can only learn by abstracting ourselves from the actual world ; from the world which is complicated, whilst the subjects which we are taught are simple. Every subject, whatever it may be, is only made into a subject which can be taught by taking it forcibly out of its context. We learn more or less about a certain science, and we think that that science has an existence of its own. But as a matter of fact this is not the case. The world goes on as one great whole, and the abstractions that we make for the purposes of our own convenience, the particular branches into which we divide knowledge, are, in so far as they are abstractions, really deceptive. This is a truth which any one who has been subjected to the discipline of a university training will readily allow. It is generally said of young men when they leave the university that they are consummate prigs. 1 An address given at the Annual Meeting of the London University Extension Students at the Mansion House, 3rd April, 1897, and printed from the reporter's notes. 285 286 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES But this is only a popular way of expressing the fact that they have developed their abstract ideas to a degree which is not at once intelligible to the ordin- ary person. I suppose we call a man a prig when he is fond of speaking about things in the abstract, and the exact application of his wise words is not at once apparent. This shows us that education always complicates, and that after we have received if it be only some rudiments of it, we must go back to life, to actual life, to be simplified. The moment that we plunge into conclusions peculiar to the subject which we are studying, we make that subject dead rather than living, and if we deceive ourselves into thinking that it is living, we arrive at conclusions which are not in themselves true. Now it seems to me that it is desirable that we should keep before ourselves the fact that there are some subjects which may not seem to us of great intellectual importance, but which can be used to simplify what we know, to vivify it, to give it force and power, by showing how it can be applied and by helping us to discover what are its limitations. This is what I wish to bring before you under the vague title of " The study of a country ". This is a study in which, if we would lend ourselves to it, we shall be forced to exhibit mental alertness. Mental alertness is a quality which may almost be said to be abhorrent to the purely scientific mind. What the scientific man wants is to get at positive conclusions according to a proper method. This in itself by no means encourages mental alertness. It does not necessarily call out the man who has the THE STUDY OF A COUNTRY 287 best brain or the greatest amount of knowledge, but rather the man who has his knowledge in the most exact form, and who knows how to use it in the pursuit of a particular science. But it is well to seek for some central point around which any knowledge which we have acquired from time to time may be condensed, some subject which will always excite our curiosity and call forth our interest. For, after all, education consists simply in developing a perpetual curiosity, and education has been a failure when it has led a man to think that he really knows anything at all. Only when we are perpetually asking ourselves ques- tions, only when we are struggling to get further and further on, are we really beginning to learn. From nothing can we learn so much as from the environ- ment or surroundings of our life. There we find a subject round which our interest can readily gather, a subject, too, that cannot be artificially simplified. We cannot say, we should not be justified in saying, " I live in a particular place, and I have made up my mind which are the things that are going to interest and amuse me ". If our minds are really always alert, wherever we are, new ideas must constantly be sug- gested to us, new points of view will be put before us, we shall find ourselves compelled to ask new questions ; we shall be always considering how far the knowledge we already have will supply us with answers to these multitudinous questions. It is the attempt to answer these questions which I mean by " the study of a country ". We may choose either a large or a small country, for the purpose of our study. No doubt it is to many at first difficult to study the thing 288 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES which is near. We are not readily susceptible to the impressions of the particular place in which we live, because habit has so accustomed us to the sights that surround us that we have ceased to ask ourselves any questions about their meaning. I remember hearing Mr. Ruskin say that he supposed that there was not one in every thousand of those who passed by the banqueting hall of Whitehall, who saw that its style of architecture was different from that of the buildings which surrounded it. I presume that this is absolutely true, that of the masses of people who pass along the streets very few notice what is about them, unless it be the falling of a cab-horse or some other similar incident ; they feel little curiosity with regard to the buildings they pass. People are constantly declaring that they are worn out and in need of a holiday ; they speak in rhapsodi- cal language of the delights of going abroad, because they feel that, when they travel, one of the conditions under which they have taken their tourist tickets is that they should begin to open their eyes. But the question I would ask them is : " Why do you not begin to open your eyes at home ? " There is far more to be seen in London than in Paris, and yet how many Londoners there are who could not pass an examination on London, but who would succeed if Paris were the subject. How many people will rave about Swiss scenery or Italian scenery, because it is the right thing to do ; and how very few are aware of the beauties of English scenery. And so in every other way. It seems as if our minds somehow or other became stupefied by our immediate surround- THE STUDY OF A COUNTRY 289 ings. We cease to exercise our minds on them, we cease to ask ourselves questions ; and in order to attain a condition of mental activity again, we have positively to withdraw from our ordinary surround- ings, and to put ourselves where the freshness and novelty of our surroundings may excite us to think and use our intelligence in a natural, spontaneous way. I wish to make a few remarks to you about the questions which may naturally be suggested by a country. I do not mean England in particular, but any country in which we may happen to find our- selves. I will make my fragmentary remarks under a few general headings. First of all each country has general natural features of its own. These differ very markedly ; I do not think anybody understands how much they differ till he has been to some other country than his own. The country which most opened my eyes to the beauty of England and to the causes which have created Eng- lish life was Russia. In Russia I first understood what it must be to live in one vast unending plain, with no features, no natural break whatever in the scenery, nothing to cut the outline of the horizon. The feeling that it would be possible to go on for hundreds of miles, with no change in the surround- ing features, nothing which could suggest a new idea to the mind, produced a sense of monotony which we in England can never understand. I merely give you this as an instance of the way in which inevitably the great features of a country do form and affect the minds of the people who live in it. 19 290 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES Let me apply these considerations for a moment to those countries which have been the great ruling countries of the world, both intellectually and in the path of industrial civilisation. These have always been small countries. They have been small countries which had their natural features greatly diversified and were capable of being broken up into small portions, each of which was self-contained. Such are the features of Palestine, of Greece, of Italy, and such are the features of England. It seems to me rather remarkable to consider that the great nations which have influenced the thought and the civilisation of the world should have all been formed under the same conditions conditions in which the mind was un- doubtedly stimulated to activity by the fact that it could so rapidly pass from one set of suggestions to another. In England we are particularly favoured. Think of the variety of scenes and the diversity of features which we find in this island. Anybody who takes a walk finds that on his walk, say of ten miles, he passes through at least two or three quite different regions, which suggest to his mind quite different thoughts, which often show differences in the flora and the geology. These differences cannot fail to impress themselves upon the mind of anybody who is really receptive of impressions at all. Let us take the best-known regions of England for instance, the Lake District. I suppose the geologist I am not a geologist could teach you there all the laws which regulate mountain formations ; he would be able to point out to you all that was neces- sary for your instruction from a geological point of THE STUDY OF A COUNTRY 291 view. There are certainly places in England where, by crossing a valley, you can pass to absolutely dif- ferent geological formations. You can have the opportunity of observing the great laws and the great forces which have made the surface of the globe. And as it is in this particular way, so it is in almost any other. Every part of England has its own natural suggestiveness, and we move almost imperceptibly from a place which suggests one set of ideas to a place which suggests another. If you will lend your- self to the suggestions of your own country, you will be driven to think in spite of yourself, and you must be a very indolent person indeed, if you do not receive a great many impressions when you take your summer holiday in a place which is at all interesting. I have been speaking to you with a view to your holidays speaking of the possible effect of different places upon the minds of those who have grown com- plicated through living in towns, and who are also perhaps complicated by being over-educated. That complication, it seems to me, sometimes leads people to apply the same tests to their holidays as they would to a commercial undertaking. Commercial operations we know are successful in proportion to their largeness ; and commercial considerations teach us that everything has to be measured by its pecuni- ary value. I do not wish to criticise these two maxims from a commercial point of view, but they are exceedingly unintelligent in the intellectual sphere. I need not tell you that things are not important in proportion to their greatness. I speak of this because I so often find that people when they go away for 19 * 292 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES their holidays, instead of going to places where they can be quiet, deliberately go to a place which they think will excite them. They want to see the biggest mountains they can, therefore they go to Switzerland ; they want to see huge waterfalls, yet the beauty of a waterfall may be ruined by its size. I want you to lay these ideas aside and believe that every country and every district has its own beauty and its own charm, and that beauty and charm are not a matter of size, but that their discovery depends upon the power of perception which we bring to it. Again, people often seem to think that things are valuable in proportion to their cost, and for that reason they take their holidays as far away from home as possible. I would like to plead with you to take your holidays as near home as possible. If in the ordinary course of your life you are not able to make a sufficient study of your surroundings, then give a week's holiday sometimes to trying to learn what your own surroundings can teach you. Believe me that it is possible to take a most delightful holiday at a very small cost by simply going out a short distance by train, making a circuit of some sixteen miles on your legs to another station, looking at all the things which you see on your way, and coming back contentedly to your supper in the evening. You will have had opportunity to appreciate the features of a district in your own neighbourhood and to gather the ideas which it suggested to you. These ideas are not only concerned with the life of the people who dwell among them. Each country has its own aesthetic suggestiveness, its own aesthetic THE STUDY OF A COUNTRY 293 charm. Mountains can be studied in England as well as in Switzerland ; it is not their size but very often their fine lines and forms which give the greatest delight And so with other things. The more we can see at one glance, the more we can take in at one moment, the more we shall gain. The aesthetic suggestiveness of different countries of course varies greatly, but each has its special charm. People rave about the colouring of Italy or the colouring of Egypt. Have they observed the colouring of London ? From Westminster Bridge very often sunsets can be seen which may be classed with the finest effects of light in other countries. Again, probably the most subtle thing to notice in the study of nature is the gradation by which one kind of scenery merges into another. In this respect England is absolutely unrivalled. Nowhere else are hill and plain so intermixed, and nowhere so well as along the little rivers of England can we see those beautiful gradations by which one kind of scenery passes to another. I venture to think that from the aesthetic point of view no country gives you more ideas, or gives you a greater power of drawing on those ideas than does England. We pass from the consideration of nature by herself to the consideration of the traces of man's habitation, and these are to be seen in their permanent form in architecture. There is no art which is so illustrative of the past as is architecture, no art which should be so significant to us in these days. There is no art which is so splendid as architecture, no art which is so democratic. It expresses the great permanent ideas 294 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES which have actuated men at various periods of their sojourn upon this earth. The earth bears the tokens of man's presence continually expressed in the forms of architecture. Architecture divides itself naturally into three classes : ecclesiastical, civil, and domestic. These three classes may be studied in their different styles in different countries. Foremost amongst them stands ecclesiastical architecture, for it is quite natural that men in expressing their ideas should give the most prominent and the most important expression to the dominant idea in their minds, and that dominant idea is the sense of their relationship to an unseen power, and of the meaning of their life during their sojourn here. These are the ideas which are expressed al- ways in ecclesiastical architecture, the aspirations of men at various ages of the world's history, all that they wished to say, the account they had to give of themselves : nothing tells us so much of this as the study of ecclesiastical architecture. That architecture is to be found everywhere. It is an endless object of study of interest which never ceases, never fails. I speak as one who has lived at various periods of his life under the shadow of great buildings. There are people who praise their houses because they have such beautiful country views ; but great as may be the charms of a magnificent country view, I do not think they are comparable to the real interest of a great building, with all its effects of light and shade, with all its suggestiveness of man's activity, of man's life. Great is nature, but remember greater still is man. And this is a truth which \ve can never afford to THE STUDY OF A COUNTRY 295 forget. It is the greatest sign of defeat to submit ourselves to the dictation of nature, and not to assert ourselves to be nature's superior. The presence, there- fore, of a great building is an unending source of study and of suggestiveness. There is no possibility as any one who has attempted to study and become intimate with a great building knows of ever getting to the end of the problems which it raises. Every time you go into it, it suggests a new question ; your eye falls upon something which shows traces of man's activity, which suggests the working of another mind, and leads on to a variety of interesting problems. A great building is full of the traces of the activity of man's intelligence in the past ; and to find out what were the primary ideas at the bottom of it, and see how men applied them and worked them out and extended them, and with what freedom their minds played round that particular structure, is one of the most stimulating studies which I could commend to anybody. Begin with the church nearest to you and find out its history, who built it, why he built it, why it was changed. Almost all our old parish churches show signs, if we look closely enough, that they were origin- ally built in Norman times. They underwent many changes ; they received additions very often in the time when the decorative style prevailed, and subsequently they were remodelled during the prevalence of the perpendicular style. You can follow the record of the church itself. Ask yourself the question, " Who could have built this church ? Some great lord I suppose in Norman times. Why were all these additions made?" 296 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES There must have been a reason. Very often by following back these reasons, you can obtain for your- self a complete record of the past history of the place in which the church stands. There is nothing that suggests more subjects for study than does the history of ecclesiastical architecture. It is the same also with civil architecture. It is exceedingly interesting to consider what were the countries that first of all built magnificent town halls, and what were the characteristics of the common life which led to the building of these town halls. Some of you may perhaps have visited what I think is the most impressive building ever built by any munici- pality the Cloth Hall at Ypres. It is to me quite the most splendid and the most magnificent of all civil buildings. Ypres remains a little town, with this mighty building crowning it, the most noble testimony to the activity of a mercantile centre that Europe to my knowledge contains. Domestic architecture also is full of interest. There are of course the magnificent palaces which adorn Italy, but they are not comparable to the domestic architecture of England. We do not know, I am sure we do not sufficiently know, the beauty of our English houses. Even the books which are written about them do not rate them one-tenth as highly as they deserve to be rated. The story of English civilisation could be perfectly read simply in English domestic architecture. We have the ruins of our old castles telling us how in olden times the great castle of a great lord was built so as to be strong and permanent ; how around it clustered for protection the little wooden huts in THE STUDY OF A COUNTRY 297 which the people lived ; how the castle consisted of its various parts. It would take me too long to tell you the story of the development of English fortifica- tions, but the castles tell the story of the beginning of civilised life in England. Then the next stage is the manor house, which in many cases grew out of the castle. The castle had a residential part attached to it ; one half was given to the soldiers, and one half was given to the family. Later we get the manor house standing by itself, sometimes appended to the old feudal ruins. Then comes the development of the manor house in the sixteenth century, and its complete evolution up to the time of Queen Anne ; all tell the story of the increase of comfort in Eng- land. And after all people cannot leave a more instructive record of themselves than to tell us what were their ideas of comfort, and how they liked to spend their lives. Materials for this study are ample round London. Any one living in London, by a little walking, can bring before his mind's eye almost every stage in the development of English architecture, and consequently of English life. Who can have visited the old ruins of Eltham, and then proceeded to investi- gate Knovvle, without gaining some conception of the standard of comfort which had been reached in English life by the end of the sixteenth century ? It is possible for us, while taking our walks, to bring before ourselves a sympathetic picture of the life and efforts of our ancestors, who worked at the problems which we ourselves have to try and carry on a little further. There are many subsidiary questions also which 298 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES architecture brings before us. First of all there is the relation of the architecture of any locality to the building materials of that locality. This is a very interesting question to study. We begin by noticing that houses in a particular district are built in a par- ticular way. We cannot answer the question as to why they were built in that way, till we have found out what is the stone of which they are built. Next we must inquire where that stone came from. We shall find perhaps that it came from a quarry which is now closed, and that the particular form which the architecture took was suggested by the nature of the stone. One of the most striking instances of this that I know is the Cathedral of Tournai, which is a most remarkable building. It contains a central tower, and at the corner of each transept is another tower, so that it really has five central towers. Inside you will find that it is built of basaltic stone, which is excessively hard, and quite incapable of taking carvings of any sort. Therefore, as the architect could not put any ornamentation inside, he put as much as he could outside, and built those five towers. There are many other points that I could put before you as regards the power of architecture in its suggestiveness ; but I pass on from that to consider the historical suggestiveness of a locality. Great as architecture is, and far back as it can carry us, it is perishable indeed as compared with earthworks. Simple mounds of earth have lasted when architecture has disappeared. The simplest and the most primi- tive forms of buildings have remained the longest, and now tell their story most clearly. Almost every THE STUDY OF A COUNTRY 299 neighbourhood has within its reach some prehistoric remains. There is nothing more interesting than simply to study them for yourselves ; do not listen first to what wise folk tell you and go with your mind made up about all questions, but go to look at them, sit down and consider what manner of men they were that made them, and what they made them for. Ask yourselves those questions, and you will find that they suggest to you a great many answers which, whether true or not, will set your mind working for itself. The number of prehistoric remains in any locality can, by a little trouble, be woven into something like a connected scheme. Camps, for instance, established on the tops of hills were connected with one another. You can easily verify this for yourselves. I have done it on the Malvern Hills. Each hill with a camp is visible from the next hill with a camp. I walked round them all, wondering why each camp was built where it was, and I found each was within call or signal of the next, and so a complete system of communication must have been possible between them. I need not speak about the interest of battle- fields ; everybody is attracted by them. If Englishmen care about nothing else, they care about fights either in their own days or in the past. But to me battle- fields seem vulgar, and not deserving of the interest that is taken in them. Still, in their neighbourhood great historic sites are to be found, sites sometimes connected with persons and places that have literary associations. Again, what could be better in the neighbourhood of London than to stroll out some day, following in the footsteps of Milton, and seeking 300 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES out the places where he composed his poems, many of them accessible from London, trying to find out on the spot why particular ideas suggested themselves to Milton's mind. Everything becomes so much clearer when looked at on the spot, when we consider the ideas of men in reference to the place where those ideas suggested themselves. The whole country of England is rich in historical suggestions. Everywhere we can see suggestions of the way in which lumin- ous ideas came into the minds of those who have been before us. Their ideas become more luminous to us as we see how they were acquired, for ideas are valuable, not so much when we consider them as due to the spontaneous action of any individual, but when we see how they were borne in on him by the accumulated wealth of resources which his country contains. There is still another aspect in which a country may be studied, and that is in relation to its social conditions both in the past and in the present day. Get, for instance, a large ordnance map and consider the boundaries of the parishes ; draw them in and study social life from that basis. A friend of mine set himself to draw, for his own purposes, a rough parish map of the Weald of Kent. He took nothing but the divisions of the parishes, and he was suddenly struck by the fact that the parishes came in their present form from the most primitive times. He saw at a glance from the top of the Weald, looking down on both sides, the arrangement made by the original settlers. All the parishes are long narrow strips, the boundaries of which run down from the top of the THE STUDY OF A COUNTRY 301 Weald in long parallel lines into the valley. The original settlers found a fertile country, settled down and divided their settlements nearly equally, because the country offered very little choice in early times. It is most helpful to make a special map to illustrate any particular subject into which you may be inquir- ing, isolating everything except the particular thing before your mind. The direction in which roads run, for instance, is a most interesting subject, and at once suggests a number of questions. Why do roads take their peculiar turnings ? It may be that they denote the boundaries of old land holdings. But if so, the question arises why the land was divided in such an arbitrary way. We may well ask of many a country lane, why was it not made straight ? To pursue the question may lead to interesting con- clusions. Again, when you take a country walk, ask the name of every hill, of every field, of everything you see, because an enormous amount of past history which is rapidly being forgotten is contained in place names. It is very interesting to me, in going about this vast metropolis, to notice where in the suburbs there are traces of any old houses which show what has been the nucleus of an old village. To my eyes it is charming to see the old-fashioned shop fronts still to be found sometimes in the suburbs, amidst the appalling vulgarity of the new shop win- dows the old shop fronts with bow windows and another bow window over the top of the doorway, the whole three fitted together in one design. These, which were built in the last century, and have now for the most part been abolished, have a real beauty 302 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES and charm. Again, in the eighteenth century, people did know something about the nature of the decora- tion suitable for our climate. They knew how to build small houses which produced a proper effect, and in our climate any effect produced must be very strong, because we cannot depend upon light and shade. Even amid the dulness of the suburbs of modern London, old houses of the eighteenth century may sometimes be seen, which have a heavy projec- tion over the doorway. Take the trouble to look at these, and you will see that the design and ornamenta- tion are admirably adapted to our country, and to the conditions under which as a matter of fact they are to be observed. Even in London you may find traces of a desire for beautiful effects, even here you may rejoice your eyes. But one more observation ; wherever you go you may become a social observer. With a little care it is always possible in any country to gain an approxi- mate idea of its social conditions. Let me call atten- tion to two things which you can easily observe. Look at the children on the roads and see if rickets are prevalent ; look at the girls as they walk about and see if they have traces of anaemia. And if you have a scientific or sanitary mind, you can follow back the causes which created these conditions, and you will perhaps think that you could give the local board some valuable advice as to how they might be remedied. Naturally our ideas run in professional grooves, and when I take country walks, and prowl from one village to another, I ask myself questions as to how things are getting on in that neighbourhood. THE STUDY OF A COUNTRY 303 I walk through a village, and from the indications of its general character, and the signs of its progress, I try to form inferences as to the character and activity and zeal of the clergyman. When I get to the church I try to get into conversation with the sexton. I lead him on by a series of questions, and generally discover at all events what his opinion of his clergyman is. Now it is quite extraordinary how often I find that the con- clusion I myself had drawn in walking through the village coincides with what I draw from him. I only give you this as an instance of the way, of course it is not infallible, in which you may form and verify con- clusions about any point that interests you. I venture to think that it is possible for you all, besides gratify- ing your general interests, also to strengthen your professional interests, and to learn a great deal which will be useful to you in the line of life which you are pursuing, if you keep your eyes open and ask your- selves proper questions. For that purpose I would recommend you to take these expeditions and interro- gate your country, not so much from the point of view of the previous knowledge you have gained about it, as in the hope of gaining more. Do not take a guide-book and " verify " it. That is the way in which so many people travel abroad and learn nothing. Do not rush from one thing to another. The number of things you can see in a limited period of time is small. It is better to get one or two strong impressions than many transient ones. Do not try to see things for the sake of telling people you have seen them when you get back ; and do not look at things unless you are interested in them. If sunsets 304 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES are not in your line, pull your hat over your eyes and say they are not. There is no use in attempting to utter right expressions about sunsets if you do not really delight in them. Go about with your minds in a receptive state and ask yourself the meaning of things, and then go back and consult your guide- books, and find out what they say about them. Then your pleasure will really be increased. If you have a question to ask, and you go to a library to find the answer, it is astonishing how many books that you have never dreamt of turning over before become full of interest, and how much literature you are introduced to if you have a burning curiosity at the bottom of your mind. I have been attempting very imperfectly to show you the truth of the old adage that we were all taught as boys in a passage in which Cicero praises books ; " Pernoctant nobiscum, peregrin an tur, rusticantur " : which may be translated as follows : " Books spend the night with us, they accompany us on our foreign travels, and go with us into the country ". I want to show you that the country can go with you even into your books, and that is on the whole, a more valuable way of looking at the matter. HEROES. 1 ANY attempt to meditate on the records of the past, with a view to using the results for guidance in the present, at once raises questions which are incapable of solution. It is impossible to appraise human ac- tivity by any fixed standard or to determine its limitations. On the one hand, we feel that great events or great movements are only intelligible when described in the terms of individual endeavour ; on the other hand, there are times when we begin to doubt if their appropriation by individuals can after all be justified. There is no doubt that we can only understand ideas when they are exhibited in their application to actual life. In themselves they are abstract, remote, inoperative. They only show their power as they excite our interest ; and they claim that interest only when they are set forth in the actions or aspirations of men like ourselves. Indeed, it is not too much to say that all our mental posses- sions come to us in the first instance by the process of imitation. The child appropriates its mother's sayings, and adopts unconsciously its mother's atti- tude towards life. This is the source of its learning long before it pays any attention to its mother's pre- 1 An address given to the Social and Political Education League on 4th November, 1898. 20 305 306 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES cepts or ideas. So far as these precepts are adopted, they are adopted as the record of a process which has been already completed. Thus, all ideas concerning life come to the indi- vidual somehow or other in a personal form. What is true of our individual life forms a habit of mind which we cannot lay aside when we step into a sphere which is beyond our individual experience. We know that truth is ineffective unless it is applied by a person. When we look back upon the past, we do not want to discover a truth or an idea apart from a person, nor can we tolerate a person except as ex- pressing an idea or a truth. This, I take it, is the reason why we are always anxious to discover heroes or great men. The search for such beings is there- fore inevitable, for it corresponds to the facts of human nature and expresses a profound truth. But it sometimes raises difficulties and suggests question- ings about the nature of human judgment. When we find that the reputations, the aims, and the motives of prominent personages in the past are still matters of debate, we begin to doubt the possibility of the existence of any principles on which such judgment can proceed. It is still a question whether Mary Queen of Scots was a profligate intriguer or an in- jured martyr. The proposal to split the difference meets with little approval ; partisanship is almost as heated nowadays as it was in her own times, though the practical reasons, which, it might be thought, can alone create partisans, have long since disappeared. Still, people like to deal with heroines or villains, and abhor more ordinary characters. They like their HEROES 307 pictures to be painted in vivid colours, and will have no neutral tints. This desire is natural enough, but it is adverse to the formation of a right judgment. Great men are so called either because they ex- pressed great ideas or because they did great actions. The danger in dealing with them is lest we clothe them too entirely with the idea, or associate them too absolutely with the action ; indeed, we often make vast assumptions solely for the purpose of giving convenient names to things. There is no doubt about the greatness of an idea ; it must be associated with some name, and the man who bears the name becomes accordingly great. There is no question that an important event occurred ; some one must have done it ; so the immediate 'agent has all the credit. Then, as soon as a man has been voted a great man, it is necessary that he be maintained in all things at the level of his imputed greatness. This ordinary and obvious method of procedure is open to two dangers. First, it is possible, on one side, that the truth of the idea or the value of the act should suffer from the frailties of the individual with whom it is associated, and that great historic impulses should be made repugnant to some minds by the temper of their foremost exponent. For in- stance, there are people who fail to do justice to the intellectual and spiritual value of the Reformation movement in Germany, because of Luther's deficiency in the higher aesthetic perceptions. Secondly, there is a danger that the real character of the hero should disappear before the persistent attempt to read him into a formula. This is a great 20 * 308 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES loss, for there is nothing more dangerous, in political speculation or political teaching, than the attempt to transcend the actual facts of human life, or disregard the limitations of human frailty. Nothing is more misleading than a picture of impossible consistency. We cannot take Henry II. as a sagacious law-giver without reflecting that he had an ungovernable tem- per ; and it is well worth remembering that the great Duke of Marlborough, for all his courage in the field, trembled before his wife. We must not confuse the great results of history with the issues of individual lives. Both of them are written for our learning, but they are written in different books. Do not let us mix the contents of the two volumes. There are two objects possible to us in studying the records of the past two distinct sources of instruc- tion, in two different directions. One is to discover the great lines of human progress ; to see the course it followed, and to determine the guiding principles which inspired its advance. This is a scientific study of human development, and owes its value to the completeness of our conception of the end of social life. We must recognise that this conception is con- stantly being modified by the tendencies of current aspirations, which are themselves seriously affected by contemporary political ideas. Thus, sixty years ago, the success of the ideas of the French Revolution constituted them a standard for judging the past, and a starting-point for criticising the future. The events of 1870 affected this standard insensibly, and perhaps undeservedly. It is curious to note the effects of this HEROES 309 reaction on the historical judgment of the work and character of Napoleon I., an effect nowhere more con- spicuous than in the country which owes so much to his genius. The discovery of unknown portions of the globe, and the consequent struggles for colonisa- tion, have introduced an enlarged conception of future possibilities which is seriously affecting our former ideas of the end of progress. The growth of the Rus- sian Empire has revealed characteristics of Slavonic civilisation which may still further modify our con- ception. Thus, the basis of a scientific study of his- tory is continually being enlarged. The ideas which enter into it become more abstract as they become larger, and, as they become more abstract, they become less personal. The other side of the study of history is the recog- nition that, be things as they may, they were the re- sult of human effort, the product of man's endeavour to do the best that he could for himself. We, who are workers in the present, wish to fortify ourselves by a feeling of sympathy with the great workers of the past. Reverence for great names is the secular side of the ecclesiastical doctrine of the Communion of Saints. No man can stand alone ; he wishes to feel that some prophet's mantle has fallen upon his shoulders, that he has a source of inspiration for his own efforts ; that he is engaged in a continuous work, which will pass on to others who follow him. Thus he needs heroes for the purpose of his personal edification. This is a laudable aspiration ; but it is one which we must satisfy at our own risk. Inspira- tion is different from imitation. We must see that 310 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES when we let ourselves be inspired by the luminous idea of a great character, we take it in its purest form, free from the exaggerations which seemed necessary in times of more direct conflict, and free from the modes of expression which were due to temporary causes. I have said that we cannot safely read any man into a formula. We cannot associate him entirely with one object, without losing much of the significance of his life. I am not sure that the methods of contem- porary fiction do not seriously affect our judgments of men of the past. Certainly Sir Walter Scott exerted great influence on the methods of historical writing. The highly analytical novel which prevails at present accustoms us to a habit of regarding a man as typical of some particular mood, or affording the means of exhibiting some nice situation. We may rebel against this mode of treatment, and wish to know what the hero ate and drank, and how he made his money, when he was not engaged in analysing himself to the too sympathetic heroine. Yet, none the less, we are compelled to take him as he is put before us ; and we accept the conclusions of the one volume as complete, forgetting that it would require a whole library of volumes to exhibit on the same scale the other motives which were working on his life and character at the same time, and which all had their share in producing the result which is ascribed to one motive only. Fiction, however, is artificial, and may work in its own sphere, according to its own rules, which it is our business to appreciate at their proper worth. But HEROES 311 history deals with real men and real events ; if we would learn their lessons rightly, we must not impose artificial limitations. There are, then, two motives which should weigh with us in our selection of a hero. First, that he worked for principles which we believe to be fruitful, and which are our own by virtue of that belief. This is, so to say, the scientific basis of our choice. But when this has been determined there remains the second point that our hero should also be the in- spirer of our own action, and, as such, should be capable of imitation. Here, I think, we frequently find ourselves beset with difficulties. The man lived in an age which is not our age, and his methods cannot be our methods. His position was not our position, and the forces which were at his command are not at our command. We have to translate him into other terms before we can use him for our purposes. There is great danger that in this process the hero should entirely disappear. Roughly speaking, we feel that we need instruction in two things wisdom and virtue. Men who are called great are so called because they succeeded in some object which they set before themselves. Success means in all things an adaptation of means to ends, and in studying this process we can generally trace the dexterity, if not the wisdom, of the hero whom we are considering. But frequently his virtue is not equally conspicuous. We sorrowfully admit that the hero's methods are beyond our power in these days when law-courts are punctilious , and, indeed, were such that we have no wish to follow them, even if the 3i2 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES law-courts made larger allowances than they do for the exigencies of public-spirited policy. Our first duty, therefore, seems to be to make allowances for the spirit of the age. But, after we have done so, we begin to have an uncomfortable feeling that our view of the spirit of the age has been constructed from no better grounds than our hero's actions. He did such and such a thing ; it suc- ceeded ; men applauded his success ; therefore they saw nothing to blame in the moral ideas from which he acted. But men's moral ideas have always been much the same. Advance in morality only means stricter enforcement of the moral law, not a greater knowledge of its contents. The hero knew the moral law, but dispensed himself from its observance for his own purposes. We cannot determine the condition of the popular conscience before he acted ; and, indeed, the concep- tion of any organised expression of the popular con- science is a very modern idea, and is still peculiar to the Anglo-Saxon race. But, this I think we may say, that if a man was superior to his fellows in wis- dom, we may demand that he should be also superior in virtue. If not, we can scarcely be justified in count- ing him a great man, except on the bald assumption that anything that is done is great simply because it is done, and, consequently, that the acquisition and use of force for any purpose whatever constitutes the sole title to greatness. This brings me to a question concerning great men which must be answered before we can determine their position. Do we call men great because they HEROES 313 direct human endeavour, or because they express it ? Is the great man to be regarded as a pioneer or as a capable official ? The moment we begin to make apologies for him, we tend to degrade him from the former of these positions to the latter. There are always rulers, ministers and generals. Sometimes things have to be done, and the man who happens to have to do them at that time happens to succeed. After all, in a conflict there are only two parties one must win, the other must lose. It is no such great merit that any given man was on the winning side. The merit does not lie in the individual leader but in the nation or cause which he leads. It is obvious that a man's position in affairs was due, in the first instance, to his choice of a profession ; his rise was due to his capacity in discharging the work of daily routine till this proved capacity secured him the fore- most place. This is the history of the official. Where- in lies his responsibility? What is his contribution to human welfare ? If he only does the thing that is expected of him, as opportunity arises ; if he merely obeys current sentiment, it is clear that no great merit attaches to him personally. The moving force is the desire of the community, of which he has simply been the mouthpiece and the executor. But this sceptical position can scarcely be maintained concerning any leader in times when great decisions had to be taken. Those decisions were always prompted by one or more men endowed with clear vision and steadfast faith, inspired by a profound belief in the destinies of their country and in the necessity of maintaining it in a position to fulfil that 3H HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES destiny. Thus I cannot find a hero who does not at the bottom rest upon a transcendental basis. I cannot imagine one's heart being deeply stirred by the eulogy, " He steadfastly pursued the greatest hap- piness of the greatest number ". This would be an excellent tribute to the capable official, but would not constitute a hero. I know that there are many who would wish to see it otherwise, but I can only record our present sentiment in the matter. How- ever, whatever view we take on this point, we find our hero inextricably involved in moral considerations. If he disastrously affected public morality, I do not see how the spirit of the age is to save him. I admit that we are now dealing with a matter in which it is difficult to find a common standard of measurement. Supposing it is granted that territorial acquisition is desirable for a country's greatness and prosperity, I cannot determine the ratio between square miles of territory and moral elevation. Is a statesman who has annexed a province to be regarded as so great a benefactor that his proceedings in so doing are above criticism ? If not, how is the ques- tion to be determined ? I cannot tell how much bloodshed and how much lying are allowable per square mile. Either you must take the acquisition as justifying the means taken to acquire it, or, while you pocket the acquisition, you must gibbet sky-high the villain who won it for you, or you must lay down a principle that no acquisition is to be made by methods which are contrary to right principles of morality. The same considerations apply to all Other objects of political endeavour, whether they HEROES 315 concern domestic politics or international politics. There must somehow be a standard which is capable of universal application. We cannot only praise a man for accomplishing something of which we approve, unless we can also approve of the way in which he has done it. This is hard doctrine, and threatens to make short work of heroes altogether. We shrink from applying strict moral judgments to great men or to great events, because we feel, some- how or other, that size and scale introduce a real difference. It is rather difficult to justify this im- pression, which is indeed somewhat rudimentary. There is a difference between public and private morality ; but I do not know that any analysis has yet succeeded in determining what that difference is. It is clear that the difference does not lie in the moral principles which regulate human conduct, but in the difficulty of applying them, with sufficient accuracy, in a sphere where ordinary guides and se- condary motives do not exist. In our own affairs, moral principles are enforced by known sanctions, and are embodied in the opinion which surrounds us. It is easier to be moral when the result of our actions is apparent ; it becomes more difficult when the conse- quences are removed from view. The ordinary man has a higher moral standard in his relations towards his family and household than he has to those whom he employs in his factory or workshop. He exercises more care in forming a wise opinion about the conduct of his own business than he does about the business of the State. If I extend this obvious principle to the consideration of the dangers which beset great 316 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES men in high position, I trust you will not think that I am unduly introducing casuistry into the domain of morals. Casuistry arises in private life through the difficulty of determining what principles of conduct ought to be dominant in a case where the primary issue is difficult to determine. In private life the best advice is to avoid, if possible, complicated situa- tions to behave, that is, with such uniform simplicity and straightforwardness that you are not involved in dilemmas which require recondite lore for their solution. But the life of a ruler or of a statesman is always complicated, and he cannot simplify prob- lems at his pleasure. A statesman, undoubtedly, is responsible for his choice of a profession. Hereditary rulers have not even that amount of responsibility. Both of them have very little choice in determining the questions which they have to face. The great complexity of public affairs is continually forcing a statesman to deal with a matter which he would prefer not to deal with, and to put aside some other object which is near his heart. His moral enthusiasm may be prepared to flow in a particular direction, but he finds himself dragged in another direction, and has not time to gather his moral enthusiasm together and carry it with him. When he has settled this trouble- some matter, he will resume his morality, and apply it diligently to his great primary purpose. The desired opportunity rarely occurs. But not only is public business complicated, it is also abstract ; and the more important it is, the more abstract it tends to become. Large political problems have to be worked out in a sort of political algebra HEROES 317 purely human interests tend to disappear. Just as a surgeon must perform an operation mechanically, according to the rules of his art, and would only be unmanned if he had before him the issues at stake on the individual life, so a statesman rapidly loses sight, in a complicated matter, of the primary considera- tions in which that matter originated. One step leads to another, and on each occasion for action, he can merely survey the chess-board and make the best move possible. Again, a statesman is necessarily pledged to be the representative of a cause or a party. Of course he is responsible for espousing that cause or that party. He does so at first because he agrees with its funda- mental ideas ; but he is soon constrained to recognise the limitations imposed upon him by party loyalty. Frequently he cannot face the problem before him simply in itself. He has to ask not only what is the best and wisest thing to do, but the further and more difficult question : How will it, if done, affect my party as a whole ? It may be said that this is an unworthy attitude to assume; that a man ought to quit a position in which he feels that he cannot act up to the best he knows. This, however, is really impossible in human affairs. In accepting a post of responsibility, the true man cuts himself off from the possibility of retreat. Dante was right in holding up to exceptional shame him who " made the great refusal ". We can- not refuse to do our duty to the best of our power when things wear a threatening aspect. Oft-times a statesman is bound to cling to power, not because he 318 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES wishes it, but because his abandonment of it would cause a disastrous reaction. It is seldom in the conduct of affairs that a man can do his best ; he is generally driven to pursue the second best as being the only practicable course. Few statesmen are ever free to express all their aspirations. The utmost that can be expected of them is that, when they are compelled to act or speak on a lower level than they wish, they should do it badly. I cannot help saying that I think I see this tendency growing amongst public men in England, and I hail it as a hopeful sign. Again, a ruler or a statesman is necessarily always placed in a position the inconveniences of which we personally may have some experience. He is a trustee acting in behalf of the nation, which may be regarded as a corporation ; it has an enormous capital which he must preserve and increase. A man may be open-handed in the management of his own affairs, but niggardly as a trustee. He may be hopeful and trustful where he is personally concerned, but cautious and slow to move when the interests of others are at stake. For himself he may be forbearing, but for his country he must exact the uttermost farthing. It is this which makes the application of moral principles still more difficult in international affairs. In per- sonal matters, we are helped by the moral atmosphere in which we live, and by the operation of moral judg- ments which are freely applied to us by those with whom we have to do. International morality has no such sanctions. A successful statesman is not troubled by the unfavourable opinion of his modes of action HEROES 319 expressed by those whom he has vanquished. He is very much a law unto himself; he has little to help him to appreciate the future results of his policy ; he is exposed to the temptation of thinking that success once achieved palliates all the methods taken to achieve it. The only direct consideration that can tend to check him in pursuing devious courses is that deceit, when detected, begets distrust. But this need not trouble him much. In ordinary life we show our reprobation of a treacherous dealer by refusing to deal with him any more ; but a nation has to be dealt with whether we like it or not. It is difficult for a states- man, however upright, not to deal with other countries according to the character which their diplomacy has shown in the past. Such a necessity, in the case of any one country, tends to lower the standard univers- ally. I fear that I have drawn a sorrowful picture of the difficulties and dangers which beset the statesman's path. Perhaps it is lucky that he does not see them all at once. Few men, I imagine, who became great started on their career with the intention of becoming so. That intention generally accompanies the unsuccessful. The secret of real greatness seems to be a happy knack of doing things as they come in your way; and they rarely present themselves in the form which careful preparation would enable you to deal with. I once knew a man whose aim was to become a great conversationalist. For this purpose he spent his time in devising repartees, which he carefully entered in a notebook. His undergraduate friends 320 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES it is needless to say that he was an undergraduate were never allowed to read the contents of the note- book, but they noticed that they never heard the repartees. Somehow, the conversational opening never offered itself. The only preparation for future greatness which I have ever seen seriously made was the cultivation of a careful habit of preserving and arranging letters, so that they could immediately be referred to. This had the advantage that it was a habit of general utility, and had a certain commercial value in case greatness was not attained. I have been endeavouring to show that a prepara- tion in the attainment of a firm hold upon moral principles, and a careful study of their application to large issues, is the most necessary and the most diffi- cult element in a statesman's equipment. I think that an enlightened public opinion may do much to enforce this truth. I have said that public morality differs from private morality, but that it is hard to determine in points of detail where the difference exactly lies. We may, however, judge about the general tendency of the actions of a great man. We may decide whether, beside the objects which he attained, he heightened or lowered the general consciousness of right. I do not mean by this that we must judge his actions as a public man, by reference to his private morality. No amount of testimony to good character can save a forger or a murderer from the penalty of his crime. We cannot in history extenuate deceit and fraud and treacherous bloodshed on grounds of general good intentions. We often praise a man too much for HEROES 321 what we call his policy. The policy of a statesman is frequently the historian's summary of the general results which survived out of the many things which he did or attempted it is sometimes doubtful if this so-called policy was prominently present in the con- sciousness of him to whom it was attributed. I recently came across a remark that any poli- tical reputation which survives for one hundred years survives because it is a peg on which historians hang their theories. This does not detract from a man's real greatness ; for what higher position could he hope to fill than that of serving as a milestone in the great track of the world's progress ? If that position be secured, the direction of the way, and the points between which he marks the distance, may be left for perpetual readjustment. We may measure pro- gress by different standards in material attainments ; but civilisation in its noblest form depends upon moral advance, and we look to a time when this will be more and more recognised. Just as law advances by reported cases as much as by new enactments, so will civilisation advance by our judgments of men of the past as much as by the achievements of men in the present or the future. Therefore, I am of opinion that we should be careful in the selection of heroes for our admiration. We should recognise in their selection the full weight of moral considerations ; we should remember that if we palliate their misdeeds, we are so far setting a bad example to their would-be successors. Great oppor- tunities are always accompanied by great responsi- bilities. We do not by becoming more democratic 21 322 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES make government more impersonal ; we only identify the whole body of the people more entirely with its methods and its aims. Men must always be led by men, and leaders should always be saddled with a full sense of the responsibility which attaches to leader- ship. There are great dangers attaching to the possession of power. Those who are entrusted with it soon discover how far-reaching those dangers are. It is a real support to them to feel that they will be judged by a higher standard than that of their imme- diate success. We often learn more from the con- templation of a man's feelings than we do from the recognition of his merits. I do not think that we are acting ungenerously to great men of the past if we attempt to take into account not merely their definite achievements, but their influence on the conscience of their time. Great men and small alike need to be reminded that they should walk circumspectly. It is an excellent feature of the present day that we express our national spirit in commemoration of great men and of great events. Let us be careful in so doing to speak the truth and nothing but the truth. The proposed commemoration of King Alfred seems to me of singular interest as illustrating some of the principles which I have been striving to enforce, Alfred is a national hero on many grounds ; not only is he surrounded with a halo of romance, but his character is free from stain. He is a type of the consolidation of the English kingdom he is famous as a warrior, a statesman, and a legislator but, more than all this, he was a man who united practical capacity with lofty aspirations for the moral well- HEROES 323 being of his people. He set forth those aspirations by example as well as by precept, and has left a name which may be fairly said to be unexampled in the record of rulers. It is true that he lived a long time ago, and that we do not possess his correspon- dence, but we know the impression which he produced upon his people, and there is no reason for thinking that his correspondence, if published, would contain any compromising revelations. We may all profit by contemplating the possibilities which such a career and such a character disclose. It is the human element which counts most in the long run ; it is the character of the man, not the nature of his achievements, which gives abiding value to his work. History, if properly studied, tends to show that after all the great man was the good man, and that those only deserve our reverence and our imita- tion, who brought a good heart as well as a strong head or an iron hand to the service of mankind. 21 ELIZABETHAN LONDON. 1 LONDON is not a good field for the exercise of his- torical imagination. It has grown so rapidly in modern times that its ancient features are obliterated. There is no place from which it is possible to obtain a view of London that enables you to reproduce to your own mind its past appearance. Any one who has gazed on Rome from the Pincian Hill, or has looked down on Florence from the height of San Miniato, will understand how London is destitute of the imperishable charm which belongs to places whose distinctive characters cannot be affected greatly by the results of man's activity. More than this, the most ancient parts of London are still the scenes of its most abundant life, and leave little opportunity for archaeological exploration. You can only meditate at your leisure on the dome of St. Paul's or on the top of the Monument ; and it is more than doubtful if the condition of the atmosphere will allow you to find much external help for your meditations. They have to be founded on your own previous knowledge rather than inspired by any suggestions from the place itself. My object is to try and form some imperfect picture of London as it was at the period when modern Eng- 1 A lecture delivered at the Queen's Hall on Wednesday, 8th November, 1899, at a meeting of the London Reform Union. 324 ELIZABETHAN LONDON 325 land first came into conscious being " in the spacious days of great Elizabeth ". It was a time when the old historic capital of England still retained its ancient features, and had carried them as far as they would go- The next century saw the beginning of that process of expansion, the end of which no one can forecast. Now the distinctive feature of the site of London was that the original site lay on the lowest of a series of hills rolling down from the north to the banks of the Thames, while round it lay a region of marshes or lagoons, extending to the hills of Surrey. The estuary of the river Lea covered the Isle of Dogs. South London was a series of little islands. West- minster with difficulty emerged from the marshes. Pimlico and Fulham were swamps. London was built on two little hills, bounded on the west by the Hole Bourne or Fleet River, and divided from one another by the Wall Brook. I need not call your attention to the entire disappearance of these natural features. The Holborn Viaduct is the only thing that can remind you of the existence of a river valley. The parks contain the sole remaining grounds that give you any conception of the country on which London was built. So skilful has been the work of the engineer that some one remarked to me that he only learned that London was not quite level when he began to bicycle in its streets. We must think then of the life of Elizabethan Lon- don as mostly lived within the limits of the old city walls. Its suburban district may be briefly described. East of the Tower was St. Katharine's Hospital, a college for charitable purposes, founded by Matilda, 326 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES wife of King Stephen, and still belonging to the Queen of England, being, I think, her only posses- sion. It is now removed to Regent's Park, but has left its name in St. Katharine's Docks. Beyond this a street of poor houses reached to Wapping, and was inhabited by watermen and fishermen. North of that a few houses had gathered round the White Chapel erected on the high road that led to the old gate which we know as Aldgate. From Aldgate, outside the wall, ran Houndsditch, and the name still suggests an unsavoury memory of the dead dogs which there accumulated. North of it lay Spitalfields, an open space around the dissolved Hospital of St. Mary, de- scribed as " a pleasant place for the citizens to walk in, and for housewives to whiten their clothes ". Be- side it was the Artillery Ground, reserved for military training. Moor Fields had just been drained, and formed another open space. I can best describe to you North London by telling you that I heard, a year ago, of an old lady who was still alive at the age of a hundred and five, and remembered in her child- hood that she went with her nurse to see the cows milked at a farm where now is Finsbury Square, and then walked through cornfields to the quiet village of Islington. Beyond Gray's Inn the open high road went through the country to Hampstead. North of Lincoln's Inn Fields a row of houses extended to the church of St. Giles, which, with its neighbour St. Martin's, still bears the title of " in the fields," to indicate that with them for a long period habitation ceased. St. James's Palace stood in its park, well stocked with deer. Westminster was merely the ELIZABETHAN LONDON 327 purlieus of the Royal Palace of Whitehall, the Abbey and the Palace of Westminster, which was the seat of Parliament and of the Law Courts. South London was represented by the little borough of Southwark, which was incorporated with the city of London in the reign of Edward VI. Its western promenade was open to the river, and was called Bankside. It was a natural centre of amusement to the citizens of London, and the Globe Theatre on the Bankside is famous through its connexion with Shakespeare. Such, then, are roughly the boundaries of the dis- trict which your imagination has to recreate. It was a place from which it was easy to take a country walk through a lovely series of undulating hills, showing the glories of the city which lay stretched along the river below. There might sometimes be fogs to impede the view, but there was not much smoke, as the fuel used in the houses was mostly wood. The introduction of coal was forbidden as early as the reign of Edward I., " to avoid the sulphurous smell and savour of that firing ". It was not till a little later that the increase of manu- factures and the diminution of forests compelled the common use of coal. Small as we may think Elizabethan London to be, its increase was viewed with apprehension, partly on sanitary and partly on political grounds. Royal proclamations were frequently issued forbidding new buildings. At the close of her reign Elizabeth or- dered " the pulling down of late builded houses, and voyding of inmates in the cities of London and West- minster, and for the space of three miles distant of 328 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES both cities ". We are not surprised to find that in spite of royal proclamations and Acts of Parliament " little was done, and these cities are still increased in buildings of cottages and pestered with inmates ". Alas ! human affairs will never accommodate them- selves to the convenience of organisation, and organi- sation is sorely pressed to cope with problems which it is perpetually trying to avert. Economic forces were at work which compelled the increase of Lon- don, though their full influence was only slowly felt. The troubles in the Netherlands caused a great trans- ference of industry to England. This establishment of new industries quickly reacted on those which already existed. There was a very rapid heightening of the standard of comfort, which created much in- ventiveness, When once the manufacturing impulse was given to Englishmen, they began to compete with the foreign market. I need only instance a manu- factory of Venetian glass which was set up in Crutched Friars. As trade increased, the advan- tages of London over other ports became more apparent. The Court was now permanently fixed in London, and was an abiding attraction for those bent alike on business and on pleasure. There is a very modern tone about the following : " The gentle- men of all shires do flee and flock to this city ; the younger sorte of them to see and shew vanity, and the elder to save the cost and charge of hospitalitie and house keeping ". We may reckon Elizabethan London to have con- tained at the end of the Queen's reign a population of about 250,000. Its wealth had steadily grown, ELIZABETHAN LONDON 329 and its merchants had largely prospered. London had good cause to be loyal to Elizabeth, and her constant care of the interests of commerce is one explanation of her tortuous policy. She knew that war on a great scale meant a check to industrial enterprise, whereas grave misunderstandings with foreign powers were a useful means of developing it. But we must return to London itself and the life of its 250,000 inhabitants. The most striking difference from our own time was that villadom was unknown. The merchant lived over his place of business ; the apprentices were lodged on part of the same premises. There was no great division of quarters. Noblemen, gentry, professional men, and men of business all lived in the same street, and shared a common life. The streets were not very wide, nor very commodious for traffic. The most important of them was Cheapside, renowned as " the beauty of London ". It was broad enough to form a promenade, and was the fashionable resort. You must think of it as lined with shops which pro- jected into the street and were open in front. Above them rose houses, built in the manner which we usually call Elizabethan, of timber and plaster. They were three, or at the most four storeys high, and each storey projected over the lower one. This mode of building was dangerous, as it was too clearly proved later, in case of fire ; and proclamations were constantly made commanding that the fronts should be built of brick ; but these wise counsels were of no avail. In a street of some width, the effect was doubtless 330 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES picturesque. But most of the streets were narrow lanes, and the projecting buildings from each side almost met at their top storeys, making the street itself gloomy and airless. Add to this that, in a time when reading was an accomplishment, a shop could not indicate its nature or its owner's name by printing it in the unobtrusive manner which now prevails. It hung out a huge signboard, bearing a suitable emblem, a structure which had to be supported by stout iron fastenings. I do not think that a walk in the average street can have afforded a very exhilarating view. The streets were badly paved, and the middle of them was little better than an open sewer. The dirt and refuse from the houses were thrown out into the street, and this was one reason for the projection of the upper storeys. The pavement was raised at the two sides so as to make it possible to walk clear of too much mud. We have the trace of this state of things in a courteous habit, which I fear is now becoming old-fashioned, of always allowing a lady to walk next the wall. It was a matter of much consequence, in days when apparel was more splendid than it is now, to have the advantage of being exempted from step- ping into the mire. Hence came a strict observance of precedence in giving the wall. The nature of a man's dress indicated his quality, and his quality had to be respected to preserve his clothes. Riding was the only alternative to walking at the beginning of Elizabeth's reign, and a lady never rode without six or seven serving-men to carry attire suit- able to all contingencies, and the means to repair a toilette which might suffer on the journey. To ELIZABETHAN LONDON 331 diminish this cost coaches came into use. They were introduced in 1564 by a Dutch coachman of the Queen ; but we are told " a coach was a strange monster in those days, and the sight of it put both man and horse into amazement ; some said it was a great crabshell brought out of China, and some imagined it to be one of the pagan temples in which the cannibals worshipped the devil ". But at length these doubts were cleared and coach-making became a substantial trade. So rapid was the increase of coaches that in 1601 an Act of Parliament was passed "to restrain the excessive and superfluous use of coaches within this realm". In spite of this innova- tion, no method could be devised which made loco- motion pleasant through streets which were alternately torrents of dirty water finding their way to the Fleet ditch, and thick deposits of black mud, which furnished a ready weapon to any one who wished to express disapprobation. It is difficult for us to picture Lon- don without either cabs or omnibuses. The natural result of this state of things was that the Thames was the silent highway of London. One bridge only spanned it, and led to Southwark. Of this structure London was justly proud. It was sixty feet high, and thirty broad. It was built on twenty arches which were twenty feet distant from one another. The bridge was a continual street covered with houses on both sides, and consequently was so narrow that carts could scarcely pass one another. We may judge of the use made of the Thames as a thoroughfare by the fact that 2,000 wherries, plied by 3,000 watermen, were in constant employment for 332 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES purposes of transit. Barges carried passengers and brought provisions from all the home counties. The Thames was the real railway, as well as the main street, of London. It was full of fish, and was peopled by swans ; so that it was a great source of food sup- ply. It is computed that 40,000 of the population of London gained their livelihood on the river in con- nexion with the work of transport and of fishing. It was from the Thames that London could be seen to advantage. Westward there were no bridges to intercept the view, no streets and no embankment. The river flowed between its natural banks, from which flights of stairs led up at the chief landing- places. The Abbey and Palace of Westminster stood out against the sky, and Lambeth Palace opposite rose in solitary grandeur beside the marsh. Then came the palaces of Whitehall and the Savoy ; then Somer- set House, Leicester House, and other dwellings of the nobility, with their gardens extending to the river, and water-gates for easy access to the boats. The Temple was also open, and the adjoining houses of White Friars and Black Friars, though no longer in the hands of the religious, still wore something of their old aspect. Between them and London Bridge were wharves for merchandise. Over all towered the Gothic structure of St. Paul's Cathedral, a building rather longer than that which the genius of Wren erected upon its site. Round it, the towers and spires of some 1 20 churches rose in testimony to the devo- tion of the people. Beyond the bridge were the Custom House, the Tower, and St. Katharine's Hos- pital. On the Southwark side, the beautiful church of ELIZABETHAN LONDON 333 St. Mary Overies (now known as St. Saviour's) rose beside Winchester House, the town house of the Bishop of Winchester. Along the Bankside were bear-gardens, theatres, and places of amusement. Thus the Thames was always full of life and bustle, and also of splendour. For the barges of great nobles were magnificent, with rowers and attendants wearing blue liveries, with silver badges on their arms. Our ancestors loved pomp and state, and we are be- ginning again to recognise that the dignity of public life needs adequate expression to the eyes of the people. The Lord Mayor's show is a survival of the life of those times very little altered. In Elizabeth's time the Lord Mayor was rowed in his barge to Westminster to take the customary oath of office, accompanied by the barges of all the city companies. On his return he went in procession from Paul's Wharf through Cheapside to the Guildhall. It cannot be said that civic hospitality has been able to increase in proportion to the growth of population, for in 1575 we are told that the Mayor and Sheriffs entertained a thousand persons who had accompanied them in their progress. Let me turn to some details of municipal life. The water supply of London was of two kinds. Some houses were supplied from the Thames. Near the Bridge were erected water wheels which were moved by the tide, so that they raised water " by pipes and conduits so high that it serveth such citizens' houses in all parts of London as will bestow charge towards the conducting thereof". This water can only have been used for the purposes of washing, not for drinking 334 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES or cooking. A foreign traveller complains that the water was noisome, so that after washing it was necessary to put some perfume on the towel and on the hands to be rid of the foul smell. The more common source of water supply were conduits, erected in the streets, which were fed by water collected in the northern hills. A trace of these still survives in Lamb's Conduit Street, built on the fields where a worthy citizen, William Lamb, in 1577 constructed a reservoir to supply Holborn conduit, which stood on Snow Hill. The conduits themselves were stone cisterns, whence water was drawn by a cock, and was carried to the various houses. This was done by a body of water-carriers, who formed an unruly class of the population. Once a year these conduits were visited by the Lord Mayor and Aldermen on horse- back. In 1562 we find that the merry company in the discharge of this duty hunted the hare before dining at the conduit head, and after dinner raised a fox, which they killed at St. Giles's-in-the-Fields. In the reign of James I. the water supply of London was already a difficulty, as the population had definitely be- gun to increase. It has remained a difficulty ever since. The subject of the lighting of London may rapidly be dismissed. There was none provided by public authority. Any one who wished to go out of doors after dark was attended by his own servants carrying torches or lanterns and armed with clubs and daggers. The streets were unsafe, as they were infested by thieves and vagabonds of every kind. They were guarded by a watch, and London possessed 240 con- stables who relieved one another. Shakespeare's ELIZABETHAN LONDON 335 representation of Dogberry and Verges is perhaps a satire on the watchmen; but they were not an effi- cient body, were easily susceptible of bribes, were not properly overlooked, and were not supported, even if they wished to be zealous, by the justices of the peace. A sober-minded man found it wisest to stay indoors after nightfall. As regards the average houses in London they were built without foundations, and were cold and damp. The first sign of growing prosperity and the conse- quent desire for greater comfort was a rapid increase in chimneys and the provision of fireplaces. The rooms were low and ill-lighted, notwithstanding the fact that glass now replaced horn or lattice-work in the windows. An Italian visitor exclaims, "O wretched windows which cannot open by day nor shut by night ! " The staircases were dark and narrow, the apartments " sorry and ill-connected ". The ceilings were of plaster, often with a very beautiful design moulded upon it. The walls were either wainscotted, or more commonly were left rough, and masked with " tapestry, arras or painted cloth," which was hung a little distance from the wall to avoid the damp, and so formed a con- venient hiding-place in case of necessity, and was always a receptacle for dust and dirt. The floors were strewn with sand, or more generally with rushes. Unless these were frequently removed they became another harbour for dirt, especially in the dining- room, where bones were thrown to the dogs beneath the table. There was no regard for what we consider sanitary precautions ; and it is no wonder that the plague in some form or other was endemic. Sensi- 336 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES tive persons carried with them something fragrant, which they might smell when their noses were too powerfully attacked by unpleasant odours. The great glory of London was St. Paul's Cathe- dral, designed on a scale worthy of the dignity of the city, being 690 feet long by 130 broad. I will not attempt to describe it to you, as that would be tedi- ous. It is enough to say that it was adorned with tombs and monuments, which gave an epitome of civic life. As only the choir was used for Divine service, the nave had become, in a manner which seems strange to our ideas, a place of fashionable resort, and was known as " Paul's Walk ". There from ten to twelve in the morning and from three to six in the afternoon men met and chatted on business or on pleasure. Young fops came to study the fashions, masters came to engage servants ; " I bought him," says Falstaff of Bardolph, "at Paul's". Gallants made appointments with their tailor and selected the colour and cut of their new suit. Grave elders discussed the political news. Debtors took sanctuary in certain parts and jested at their credi- tors to their face. Any one who especially wished to attract attention went up into the choir during service, wearing spurs. This was punishable with a fine, which the choir boys hastened to exact. All eyes were fixed upon the beau as in a studiously negli- gent attitude he drew out his purse and tossed the money into the boy's hand. Outside, St. Paul's Churchyard was mainly occupied by booksellers, whose shops were places of resort to those who cared to look at and discuss new literature. ELIZABETHAN LONDON 337 A different place of resort was the Royal Exchange, built by Sir Thomas Gresham and opened by Eliza- beth, who gave it its name. Gresham was a mer- chant who had helped the Queen by negotiating loans in Antwerp on terms beneficial both to him- self and to the royal finances. I rather incline to think that his great fortune was largely due to a system of illicit commissions, which were even more frequent then than they are now. But Gresham's re- sidence in the Low Countries led him to see that commercial life was there conducted more comfort- ably than in England. There was no meeting-place for London merchants. They transacted their busi- ness in the street or in St. Paul's, when their friends did not find them in their office. Gresham erected a building on the same plan as he had seen in the Netherlands an open colonnade with shops around it, and a central hall. But though Gresham presented the Exchange to the city, he meant to reimburse him- self by the rents of the shops. In this he had not reckoned on the conservative habits of English tra- ders, and found that his shops remained untenanted. Nothing daunted, he devised a plan for leading men into new ways. He arranged for a royal opening, and then accosted the chief shopkeepers, pointing out to them that the place looked bare and all unfit for the Queen's eye ; he asked them as a favour to put a few of their wares in the empty windows. When the ceremony was over he remarked that it was a pity to take the things away at once ; they were at liberty to keep them there for a time. His scheme suc- ceeded ; he established shops of his own selection, 22 338 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES and the neighbourhood soon became fashionable. In a year's time he demanded a substantial rent, and soon afterwards, when the shops were well frequented, required that each shopkeeper should also hire a vault at the same rental. I tell you this that you may not think that our mercantile shrewdness is entirely of modern growth. As a matter of fact, when we look below the surface, we see that the days of Elizabeth were the days of hard-headed men. The religious and social changes which the country had passed through necessarily produced restlessness and disquiet. The old thrifty habits passed away, and there was a new spirit of ambition and adventure. Everywhere the wise were taking advantage of the foolish, the strong of the weak. Amongst the nobles new families were quietly adding manor to manor, by marriages, by encouraging spendthrift habits in a neighbour whom they meant to pillage, by lawsuits in which they took care to win. The merchants like- wise knew how to put out their money on good security ; even tavern-keepers were usurers for young men with expectations who came to London to enjoy themselves for a few months. It was all done quietly and decorously ; but lands and money changed hands rapidly, and a process of natural selection was going on with merciless severity. This is wandering from my subject, but it explains in many ways the development of London's trade. Abroad, the English were taking advantage of their less fortunate neighbours and rivals in commerce. At home, London was growing wealthy from the folly of adventurous country gentlemen, who were ELIZABETHAN LONDON 339 encouraged to ruin themselves and say nothing about it. One sign of this restlessness was the extraordinary vogue of shows containing monstrosities or prodigies. A dancing horse, trained by a Scot called Banks, was long one of the great sights of London, and was cele- brated by Shakespeare and Ben Jonson. Bulls with five legs or two tails, hares that could play the drum, tight-rope dancing, a strange outlandish fowl, A quaint baboon, an ape, an owl, were objects of universal interest. Those who would " not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar would lay out ten to see a dead Indian ". With this was com- bined a delight in savage pastimes, bull-baiting and bear-baiting. The bulls or bears were fastened to a chain and worried by bulldogs, which were often killed. Still more brutal was the whipping of a blinded bear, which strove to seize its persecutors. To the same love of excitement and distaste for honest work is due the great amount of gambling which prevailed in every class of society. This unwholesome state of feeling afforded ample opportunity to adventurers. The ruffian, Full of strange oaths and bearded like a pard, swaggered at the taverns and fed the credulity of his hearers with travellers' tales : When we were boys Who would believe that there were mountaineers Dewlapped like bulls, whose throats had hanging at them Wallets of flesh ? or that there were such men 22 * 340 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES Whose heads stood in their breasts ? which now we find Each putter out on five for one will bring us Good warrant of. " Each putter out on five for one " is a phrase which illustrates the gambling spirit which was rife. Ben Jonson set forth the traveller's scheme : " I am deter- mined to put forth some five thousand pounds, to be paid to me five for one upon the return of myself, my wife and my dog from the Turk's court in Constanti- nople. If all or either of us miscarry on the way, 'tis gone : if we be successful, why there will be five and twenty thousand pounds to entertain time withal." You will see that commercial speculation is no novelty. Such a spirit of adventure and speculation craved for notoriety, and consequently created an informal society which had its seat in places of public resort The life of the tavern became varied and animated, and we can appreciate its extent and influence, as well as its attractiveness in the case of Falstaff. We know the Boar's Head in Eastcheap, near London Stone, and the Mermaid in Cornhill from the drama- tists ; and there was a host of others. There adven- turers could float themselves without credentials, and sharpers could secure their victims. There travellers, soldiers and seamen could relate their wondrous ad- ventures. There men of every class could mix and interchange opinions. " A tavern," says a contem- porary, " is the common consumption of the after- noon, and the murderer or maker-away of a rainy day. ... It is the busy man's recreation, the idle man's business, the melancholy man's sanctuary, the ELIZABETHAN LONDON 341 stranger's welcome, the inns-of-court man's entertain- ment, the scholar's kindness, and the citizen's curtesy. It is the study of sparkling wits, and a cup of canary their book." It has always seemed to me that the wide knowledge and accuracy of detail shown by Shakespeare are not so much due to study on his part as to his imaginative insight into his subject, which enabled him to secure readily from the expert, whom he met in the tavern, just so much information as he needed to give proper local colour to his outlined picture. Such tendencies towards an adventurous life could not be confined to particular classes of society. They were general, and produced a large crop of rogues, vagabonds, thieves and beggars who infested Lon- don. The Elizabethan Poor Law is due to the necessity of differentiating these from the deserving poor. It had not much success in stopping their number, nor were the severe penalties inflicted upon them more successful. " The rude vast place of Smithfield " afforded space for harbouring them, and bore the name of Ruffians' Hall. The House of Cor- rection at Bridewell was too small to contain the number of criminals. More than three hundred were hanged every year, but their fate struck no terror into their companions. Students of social questions, who existed then as they do now, classified these impos- tors, and recorded fourteen well-marked types of male villains, and nine of female. There were schools where they were taught their trade on scien- tific principles. All these things were made known, but to little purpose. For then, as now, every 34* HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES Englishman believed in his own capacity to detect an impostor for himself, and paid little heed to the warning of the expert. In truth London was full of signs of judicial severity and precautions against riot. " There are pillories for the neck and hands," says a foreigner, " stocks for the feet, and chains for the streets themselves to stop them in case of need. In the suburbs are oak cages for nocturnal offenders." He saw a lad of fifteen led to execution for stealing a bag of currants, his first offence. There were gibbets along all the roads outside the gates. Nor was it only the poor male- factor who paid the penalty of detected crime. The headsman's axe was busy on Tower Hill, and the great were taught to walk warily in perilous times. The heads of traitors were impaled on London Bridge ; and the first sign of growing humanity was their removal to the Southwark Gate. A somewhat turbulent part of the community con- sisted of the London apprentices, who were at once recognisable in the streets. They wore blue cloaks, breeches and stockings of white broadcloth, with the stockings sewn on so that they were all one piece ; they wore flat caps on their heads. They stood against the open fronts of the shops to guard their masters' wares, bareheaded, with their caps in their hands, " leaning against the wall like idols," says a French visitor. They were always ready for any mis- chief, and foreigners complained of their rudeness. They expressed only too clearly the prevailing senti- ment about foreign affairs, and even the ambassadors of unpopular countries suffered at their hands. The ELIZABETHAN LONDON 343 mud of the street supplied a ready weapon. Festival days tended to become their Saturnalia, and some- times they executed wild justice of their own. They wrecked taverns which they thought were ill-conducted, and spoiled a playhouse of which they did not approve. We even find that " they despitefully used the sheriffs of London and the constables and justices of Middle- sex ". It is not surprising that James I. addressed the Lord Mayor : " You will see to two things that is to say, to the great devils and the little devils. By the great ones I mean the waggons, which, when they meet the coaches of the gentry, refuse to give way and yield, as due. The little devils are the apprentices, who, on two days of the year which prove fatal to them Shrove Tues- day and the first of May are so riotous and out- rageous that, in a body three or four score thousand strong, they go committing excesses in every direc- tion, killing human beings and demolishing houses." As regards apprentices, however, we find an econo- mic cause coming into operation which slowly wrought a change. The increasing importance of commercial life was altering their position. Whereas ten pounds had been a sufficient premium for an apprentice, the payment steadily rose to twenty, forty, sixty, and even a hundred pounds. This meant that the boys came from a higher class of society, and ceased to be in part menials who carried water and performed domestic duties. I have been endeavouring in a fragmentary and im- perfect way to bring together a few illustrations of matters which either then or now had some relation 344 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES to the problems connected with the government of London or with the economic laws which affected it. I have not tried to point any definite moral, but I would leave it to yourselves to judge what progress we have made, and how we have made it. Many ques- tions have solved themselves quietly without any direct intervention. Of others the solution has made itself so obvious that there was no doubt about it. High-handed interference, however wise and foresee- ing, has mostly been productive of evil. It is even possible to assert that the greatest boon to London was the Great Fire. But on such a point, or indeed on any point, I do not wish to dogmatise. There is one matter, however, to which in conclusion I would call your attention. We ask ourselves, What sort of men were our forefathers ? The question is worth trying to answer, and can best be answered by discovering the impression which they produced on men of other nations. I will collect some opinions on that point. In 1497 a Venetian writes : " They have an anti- pathy to foreigners and imagine that they never come into their island but to make themselves masters of it, and to usurp their goods". A Roman in 1548 writes : " The English are destitute of good breeding, and are despisers of foreigners, since they consider him but half a man who may be born elsewhere than in Britain". Ten years later a Frenchman testifies : " This people are proud and seditious, with bad con- sciences, and faithless to their word ; they hate all sorts of foreigners. There is no kind of order ; the people are reprobates and thorough enemies to good ELIZABETHAN LONDON 345 manners and letters." In 1592 a German from Wiirt- emberg says : " They are extremely proud and over- bearing ; and because the great part, especially the tradespeople, seldom go into other countries, but always remain in the city attending to their business, they care little for foreigners, but scoff and laugh at them ". A Hollander bears record : " They are bold, courageous, ardent and cruel in war, fiery in attack, and having little fear of death ; they are not vindic- tive, but very inconstant, rash, vainglorious, light, and deceiving, and very suspicious of foreigners, whom they despise. They are not so laborious as the Nether- landers or the French, as they lead for the most part an indolent life." Another German from Branden- burg says : " They are good sailors and better pirates, cunning, treacherous, and thievish ; they are powerful in the field, successful against their enemies, impatient of anything like slavery ". The Venetian Ambassador in 1497 says: "If they see a handsome foreigner, they will say, 'It is a pity he should not be an Englishman ' ". I will not go on multiplying quotations. Those which I have given show a remarkable consensus of opinion. They come from different sources, and in an age when newspapers were unknown they are in- dependent testimonies. Perhaps we might be tempted to put them aside as prejudiced , but I hesitate to do so, because there is an agreement on a point which we would not readily surrender. All foreign observers are at one in the opinion that the English women were the most beautiful in the world. We must admit that this proves their power of discernment. 23 346 HISTORICAL LECTURES AND ADDRESSES I am afraid that these testimonies show that, how- ever much we may have improved in other things, we have not yet been successful in impressing on other countries a due appreciation of those excellent quali- ties which we are profoundly conscious that we pos- sess. We have not amended our provoking insularity or our arrogant self-assertiveness at all events in the opinion of outside critics. The men of Elizabeth's time had very little ground for their belief that the world was primarily intended for the use of English- men. Perhaps for that reason, they judged that it was true kindness to others to make that fact generally known. But I would point out that the unpopularity which we undoubtedly enjoy is of long standing and arose from the first expression given to the peculiarly English temper. 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