The Nonjurors

Chapter I --The Nonjurors

THE political connections of church affairs in England during the eighteenth century were so far noticed in a preceding chapter that the subject does not need to be treated in this relation. We add only a word respecting the ecclesiastical headship of the sovereign. Before the middle of the century it had come to mean little else than his having a principal voice in the dispensing of church dignities. This prerogative was not exercised at all times with equal directness William III;, after the death of Queen Mary, devolved the management of patronage upon the archbishops of Canterbury and York, and four bishops associated with them. George III. was disposed to take the matter into his own hands. Under some of the intermediate sovereigns, the ministers of State had much to do with the dispensing of patronage.

A long-enduring memorial of the political agitations which accompanied and followed the Revolution of 1688 appeared in a party of Jacobites, that commands interest on account of the unique characters which it embraced, if not on account of its principles. This party, known as the Nonjurors, consisted of men refusing to take the oath of allegiance to the new dynasty which was required of those holding clerical, academic, or other offices. While the majority of the clergy, who had been preaching non-resistance under the restored Stuarts, quieted their scruples at taking the oath by the plea that their submission, according to the example of the early Christians, was due to the government actually in power, a minority argued that mere power ought not to take precedence of justice, and that hereditary right must determine the question of allegiance. The one party claimed adherence to the sovereign de facto, and the other to the sovereign de jure.

The original Nonjurors numbered six bishops, -- not, including three who died before the day appointed for taking the oath, -- and four hundred clergy, to whom a small fraction of the laity adhered. Their numbers, however, soon decreased. As some of the deposed prelates were fully persuaded that their own party was the only true Church in England, they proceeded to ordain bishops that the succession might be kept up, and so prepared for a perpetuation of the schism. The last in the line of the nonjuring bishops died in 1805. Aside from their position on the dynastic question, the Non-jurors were distinguished by their High Church or Anglo-Catholic principles. As we shall observe when we come to consider the Tractarian movement, recent Anglo-Catholics have recognized the kinship of this party with themselves.

Among the Nonjurors, Bishop Ken was eminent for his amiable character. Though he refused the oath himself, he passed no harsh judgment upon those who did not, and he kept aloof from Jacobite scheming. The same may be said of Robert Nelson, who is further known for his zeal in practical Christian work, and for devotional treatises that gained in their day a very wide circulation. A high rank in their party, as respects ability, was claimed by Charles Leslie and Jeremy Collier. In learning, Henry Dodwell, at one time professor of Ancient History at Oxford, stood among the foremost; but his faculties were poorly balanced, and he ran into the most extravagant fancies. George Hickes was noted for his intemperate zeal in the nonjuring cause, as also for his antiquarian labors. In the first days of the new dynasty, William Sherlock was regarded by the Nonjurors as a principal light in their midst; but he soon was convinced of the propriety of taking the oath. His former friends imputed his change of view to the devil and Mrs. Sherlock.

The most unique and the most important, in point of religious influence, among the Nonjurors was William Law. As he was not born till 1686, he belonged to the second generation of the party. The first prominent manifestation of his Jacobite bias was at Cambridge, where he was educated, and took pupils after being elected Fellow. According to his friend Byrom, in 1713, he put forward a question which showed his estimate of the plea that allegiance is due to the sovereign de facto. The question was this: "whether, when the children of Israel had made the golden calf the object of their worship, they ought to keep to their God de facto, or return to their God de jure." As Queen Anne was a near descendant of the martyred Charles I., Law did not dispute her title; but on the accession of George I. he refused to take the oath of allegiance and abjuration. This of course cut off the prospect of position in the Church. A few years later he entered upon his career of authorship. In 1727 he became an inmate of the household of the grandfather of the historian Gibbon. For about twelve years he was connected with this family, being engaged a part of the time as tutor of Gibbon's father. His later years were spent in his native town, King's Cliffe, where he lived in the employ of two wealthy and pious ladies, serving as their spiritual guide and helping them in the charitable distribution of their ample income.

As a writer William Law is entitled to a place of no mean distinction. He possessed in a peculiar degree the faculty of expression, the faculty of putting his thoughts in the form and order most available for effect. Clearness, strength, and concentration upon a definite result are characteristics of nearly everything that came from his pen. F. D. Maurice speaks of him as "the most continuous writer in our language, each of his sentences and paragraphs leading on naturally, and, as it were, necessarily to that which follows."

The writings of Law reveal a strong and original bias. He stood apart from his age and in contradiction to its most marked characteristics. At a time when the prevailing conceptions of Christianity followed in the wake of Tillotson and Locke, when reasonable conduct was thought to be the whole of religion, when earnestness was at a discount, and enthusiasm was scouted as noxious and pestilential, he looked upon religion as an all-transforming agency, linked it with the supernatural, denounced the adequacy of reason apart from divine illumination, and claimed a place for enthusiasm in piety. In fine, the mysticism into which he finally launched was only an exaggeration of the protest which from the first he was inclined to make against the cool moralizing and superficial religion of the times.

The works of Law fall into three classes, the controversial, the practical or devotional, and the mystical. To the first belong his "Letters to the Bishop of Banger," his "Remarks on the Fable of the Bees" (an able reply to Mandeville), his "Case of Reason," against Tindal, and his" Confutation of Warburton's projected Defence." These productions contain not a little of pungent argumentation. They exhibit also the art of the skillful controversialist in their freedom from scurrilous personalities, and in the indulgence, at most, of a cutting temperateness. The mysticism of Law upon which he embarked between 1731 and 1737 appears in such writings as the "Grounds and Reasons of Christian Regeneration," the "Spirit of Lore," the "Spirit of Prayer," the " Appeal to All that Doubt." The inspiration for these works was drawn from an ample acquaintance with mystical divinity. Law says of himself: "I thank God I have been a diligent reader of these mystical divines, from the apostolical Dionysius the Areopagite down to the great Fénelon, Archbishop of Cambray, the illuminated Guion, and M. Bertot." He delighted especially in mystics of the more hardy and masculine type. He was fond of Eckhart, Tauler, Suso, Ruysbroek, and Henry Harphius; but his favorite above all others was Jacob Boehme, some of whose works he translated. Doubtless one reason of his preference for the "blessed Jacob " was the illiteracy of the man. The fact that so unlearned a man could write such rich productions was to the English mystic a most acceptable proof of the pet theory of his later years respecting the worthlessness of human learning in matters of religion. That nature is a divine theophany, that God is love, that the atonement is moral transformation by the in-dwelling Christ, that religion is intimate union with God, -- these are the cardinal ideas in Law's mystical treatises.

While the writings just described contain passages of great beauty and spiritual depth, in real influence they can bear no comparison with the practical treatises. Law's "Christian Perfection" and " Serious Call to a Devout and Help Life" (1726-1729) took a strong hold of the more earnest minds of the age, and were prominent among the antecedents of the great revival of the eighteenth century. The latter in particular is a masterpiece of practical divinity. Its leading thought is that genuine religion cannot be made a side issue, but must rather be the vitalizing principle of the life, and rule its every part. No less a man than Samuel Johnson confessed his profound obligations to the "Serious Call." "When at Oxford," he says, "I took it up expecting to find it a dull book and perhaps to laugh at it. But I found Law quite an over-match for me; and this was the first occasion of my thinking in earnest of religion after I became capable of religious inquiry." By the same robust writer the "Serious Call" was further described as "the finest piece of hortatory theology in any language." John Wesley also owed to it a decided religious quickening. During the latter part of his stay at Oxford, as he himself has acknowledged, Law was a "kind of oracle" to him. 1 Journal, Sept., 1760. He was at great pains to consult him, and even followed him to the extent of taking a step or two across the threshold of mysticism. Law as a mystic, however, soon became the subject of his criticism rather than of his admiration, but he continued to esteem him as an expounder of practical religion. In 1738 he acknowledged his influence on this wise: "For two years I have been preaching after the model of your two practical treatises." In the same letter, it is true, he complained of the treatises in question as more clearly showing the law than the grace of God, as pointing out the ideal rather than the means of attaining it. But this criticism, urged with some asperity, sprang from the first impulses of a new-born zeal, from the consciousness of an experience far greater than that to which he had been led by his former guide. Notwithstanding the adverse comments of the moment, he returned to a lively appreciation of Law's productions, and cordially recommended them to his people. He used the "Serious Call" as a text-book at the Kingswood school, and late in life he wrote concerning it: "It is a treatise which will hardly be excelled, if it be equalled, in the English tongue, either for beauty of expression or for justness and depth of thought." Whatever his obligations to this source may have been, it is quite certain that one cannot read the "Serious Call" the practical teaching of Wesley, without being struck with the numerous points of close resemblance between the two. Law, no doubt, was never an advocate of Methodism, after the Wesleyan type. He never subscribed to Wesley's technical representations about the realization of the new birth, assurance of salvation, and Christian perfection. Nevertheless there are adequate reasons for associating him with Methodism as an advocate of a piety dominating the whole life and resting upon a lively faith in the presence and immediate agency of the Holy Spirit.

William Law was pre-eminently a writer. He was not qualified for the practical work of religious leadership. His disposition tended to isolation. Wesley's capacity for close contact with men and affairs was foreign to him. But he ought to be remembered as an important contributor to the revival of the eighteenth century, and as a man whose personal piety was nurtured by an unquenchable ardor of purpose. He struggled faithfully toward his ideal and died in bright anticipation of its realization. "I feel," he exclaimed upon his dying bed, "a sacred fire kindled in my soul, which will destroy everything contrary to itself, and burn as a flame of divine love to all eternity." 1 See the interesting biography of Law by J.H. Overton.

Before taking leave of the Nonjurors, we should notice the fact that, while the more zealous of their number looked upon their immediate neighbors as belonging to the wicked Babylon, the Eastern Church seemed to them entirely worthy of fellowship, and negotiations were entered upon (1716-1720) to test the feasibility of union or mutual recognition. The project proved to be as utopian as that entertained at the same time by a high representative of the Established Church respecting a union with the French Church.

1 The possibility of this latter scheme being broached was due to the disgust of many French theologians at the bull Unigenitus. As they were chafing under the imposition of this unholy document, Archbishop Wake received intimation that eminent doctors of the Sorbonne were willing to discuss a plan of union. A friendly correspondence ensued. "Separation from Rome was what the English archbishop chiefly pressed; 'a reformation in other matters would follow as a matter of course.'" (Abbey and Overton, History of the English Church in the Eighteenth Century.)

The Empire At The Dawn of the Reformation

The Empire At The Dawn of the Reformation

THE subject of the chapter will not direct our attention much beyond the bounds of Germany. The theoretical fiction, indeed, which assigned to the Emperor the proud position of heir to the dominion of the Cæsars, was not extinct. A token of the thought that the imperial office had relation at least to the whole of Latin Christendom appears in the fact that, on the death of Maximilian I. in 1519, the King of France and the King of England were each mentioned as possible incumbents, and the claims of the former were seriously urged. This, however, was a mere episode. France, England, and Spain were no part of the empire, save in the mind of the political idealist. Italy, though connected by a much closer bond of historical association,had become essentially foreign territory. At the beginning of the sixteenth century, France and Spain had more influence in Italy than the empire.

In its internal arrangements the empire was a scene of the greatest complexity. The relation of the different factors to each other involved no little ambiguity. Scarcely any rank or party was satisfied with its position, and turmoils were of frequent occurrence.

Early in the reign of Maximilian, who came to the throne in 1493, an earnest attempt was made to secure better safeguards for public order. The Diet, which was the great instrument for settling affairs of common concern, brought forward at its session in Worms, in 1495, a new plan for the administration of the empire. An important feature was the provision for an Imperial Chamber, to which disputes between the different states might be referred, as well as appeals in private causes. The judges in this tribunal were to be appointed with the consent of the Diet. Some years later, to give greater effectiveness to the new institute, the empire was divided into a number of districts, each of which had its council and was charged with responsibility for securing the execution of the sentences of the Imperial Chamber. Though the Emperor stipulated for the inviolability of his prerogatives, the provision carried out in good faith could not work otherwise than as a limitation of imperial sovereignty. Respecting the plan as a whole, which was agreed upon at this Diet, Ranke remarks, "It was a mixture of monarchy and confederacy, in which, however, the latter element had the preponderance." 1 Deutsche Geschichte in Zeitalter der Reformation, I. 78.

Though his reign was successful beyond the average, Maximilian, sharing in the common experience of a long line of predecessors, found it difficult to bring his actual power into any true correspondence with the imperial name. A Venetian ambassador who was in Germany in 1502 expressed his astonishment at the small respect which was shown the Emperor, and represented Maximilian as declaring for himself, that he wished that he were merely Duke of Austria, for then he would receive some consideration, whereas in his character as Roman king he experienced only abuse. 1 Ranke, I. 98. This was, no doubt, strongly put, and represented a season of special depression; but taken in connection with a man like Maximilian, whose personal traits were well suited to win popularity, it may serve to indicate that a German emperor, under the existing conditions, had to pay a fair price for his honor.

The princes, on their part, considered that they had just grounds of complaint. They were displeased with the indifferent regard which the Emperor paid to the reforms of 1495. In particular, they took umbrage at his undisguised ambition to build up the house of Hapsburg and make Austria a leading power in Europe. They were unwilling that talents and resources, which the imperial office seemed to pledge to the common good, should thus be expended upon a private interest.

Their opposition, however, was not sufficient to thwart the designs of Maximilian in this direction. His reign laid a foundation for the ascendency of the house of Hapsburg. An alliance with Spain was a special means of promotion. Through the marriage of his son Philip with the daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, it was brought about that 8 scion of his house was elevated to a more extended rule than had been grasped by any European sovereign since the days of Charlemagne. Charles V., the son of Philip, was heir on the Spanish side to the kingdom of Spain, to Sicily and Naples, to the new acquisitions of Spain on the American continent, while on the German side he had title to the Austrian dominions and to Burgundy (Franche-Comté and the Netherlands). To this was added in 1519, through the unanimous vote of the electors, the imperial dignity.

1 Of the seven princes who composed the Electoral College, three belonged to the ecclesiastical rank; namely, the Archbishops of Mayence, Treves, and Cologne. The remaining four were the Duke (or King) of Bohemia, the Margrave of Brandenburg, the Count of the Palatinate of the Rhine, and the Elector of Saxony. The Baron electorate, it should be noticed, comprised at this time only a part of Saxony, the dukedom having been divided in 1485.

It might be supposed that Charles V., with such a range of power back of him, would have been in a condition to lay hold upon the affairs of Germany with superior vigor. It is to be noticed, however, that the available resources of Charles were by no means equal to the extent of territory which lay under his sceptre. His dominions were as scattered and heterogeneous as they were immense. Their extent and the variety of their demands limited the attention which he could devote to the internal affairs of Germany. Moreover, the power of the neighboring King of France, a power more concentrated and available, if less extensive, than his own, reminded him that in dealing with the states of Germany he must not despise the arts of conciliation, We find him, accordingly, at the first Diet held under his auspices, that of Worms in 1521, showing a good degree of compliance with the wishes of the princes for the confirmation and perfecting of constitutional provisions which had been brought forward in Maximilian's reign.

What has been said may serve to illustrate the position of the Emperor, and his relations with the higher dignitaries of the realm. The status of the latter, it would seem, was in the way of improvement. Within their respective domains they were making advances toward a larger and better-defined authority.

But there were classes in the empire who were far from being satisfied with their position and prospects. The nobles looked jealously upon the modern movement toward concentration of power in the hands of the princes. They saw themselves thrust aside, without voice in the Diet, and continually declining from the importance which they had enjoyed under the old feudal system. To this restlessness on political grounds was added the stimulus of the great religious agitation which had been started in Germany. At length the disquiet broke out into a species of revolutionary effort. Franz von Sickingen, who was seconded by Hutten, determined to make a bold stroke for the nobility and for ecclesiastical reform. Being a soldier of reputation, and possessing unusual talents for exciting personal enthusiasm, he rallied to his standard the nobles of the Upper Rhine, and proceeded to attack the Archbishop of Treves. But Sickingen had miscalculated the strength with which he had to contend. He was speedily driven to act on the defensive, and fell mortally wounded in his castle (1523). With him fell the hope of the nobility to regain the old measure of power and independence.

The peasantry was quite as much dissatisfied as the nobility, and with much better reason. The latter deserved to be curbed in view of the inexcusable lawlessness which they had frequently indulged. But the peasants were the victims of a grievous oppression. The safeguards which were being introduced in behalf of other classes had little or no relation to them. To whom could they look for protection? "To no one. These half-human beings had no rights, and in the current view were entitled to none. They were dependent solely upon the grace and compassion of their masters." 1 G. Sartorius, Versuch einer Geschichte des deutschen Bauernkriegs. Their estate ranged from actual serfdom to a lot not many degrees better. "Even in Swabia, and the countries on the banks of the Rhine, where their condition was most tolerable, the peasants not only paid the full rent of their farms to their landlord, but if they chose either to change the place of their abode, or to follow a new profession, before they could accomplish what they desired they were obliged to purchase this privilege at a certain price. Besides this, all grants of lands to peasants expired at their death, without descending to their posterity. Upon that event, the landlord had a right to the best of their cattle, as well as of their furniture; and their heirs, in order to obtain a renewal of the grant, were obliged to pay large sums by way of fine." 2 W. Robertson, History of the Reign of the Emperor Charles V. These were customary burdens, and as such were borne with some degree of patience, though not with entire cheerfulness or absence of protest. But in the time of Frederic III. and Maximilian I., new burdens were added. More expensive habits of living began to prevail among princes, nobles, and ecclesiastics. The change in the mode of warfare, which substituted paid troops for feudal retainers, created an enlarged demand for revenue. The consequence was that the peasants, as the most helpless class, were plied with new exactions.

What wonder that an outbreak should have occurred? Since the middle of the fifteenth century, the discontent of the peasants had issued in a number of eruptions, some of which were of considerable extent. 1 Menzel, Geschichte der Deutschen, II. 226-229 How, then, could it be expected that this exasperated element would remain quiet when all minds were being stirred by the excitements of the age? The responsible cause of the uprising of the peasants was the oppressions under which they groaned. The Reformation was but the occasion. As the herald of a new era, it could not fail to give hope and courage to the oppressed multitude, whether or not it made any direct connection with their cause.

The peasant revolt commenced the next year after the abortive attempt of the nobles under Sickingen. The two movements were independent of each other, as the two classes were unconnected in sympathy. "Each class," says Häusser, "went its own way, and perished alone, -- the nobles like an army of officers without soldiers, the peasants like soldiers without officers. Had they united their forces, they would have formed a lever which would have produced a tremendous commotion. These two elements afterwards combined to upset the ancient monarchy of France." 2 Period of the Reformation, translated from the German by Mrs. G. Sturge.

The cause of the peasantry was not a little affected by their alliance with the Anabaptist enthusiasts. It will be convenient, therefore, to postpone the further consideration of the subject, till we have brought the story of the Reformation up to the eve of the attempted revolution.

If there was less cause of ferment in the cities than among the nobles and the peasants, they still had their own occasions of agitation. Constant watchfulness and energy were required to guard their privileges against the encroachments of princes and nobles. In not a few of them, moreover, there was an interior conflict, -a struggle between aristocratic and democratic elements. Some of the cities, especially in Southern Germany, were suffering from a decline of industry. This naturally bred discontent among the poorer citizens. It is probable that a fraction of this class, impelled at once by their unpromising state and their feeling of exasperation toward the clergy, who seemed to care more for pleasures and emoluments than for pastoral service, were not disposed to frown altogether upon the revolutionary effort of the peasants.

A brief reference to the relations of the German Government and people with the Roman Court may properly conclude the chapter. Maximilian evidently cherished no great affection for the popes. It was with ill-concealed disgust that he looked upon their expedients for draining away the gold of the realm. He complained that they took from his subjects a hundred times as much as found its way into the imperial coffers. 1 Ranke, I. 37. At times also he had occasion for displeasure, because special projects of his were opposed at Rome. This may explain the passive attitude which he assumed toward the first stages of the Reformation. He is even said to have felt a malicious satisfaction in what was transpiring at Wittenberg, and to have advised the Elector Frederic to take good care of the bold monk, as he might be serviceable at some future time. All this, however, was dictated merely by his political interest. In his last days the same interest moved him to seek a good understanding with the Pope, inasmuch as his friendship was thought to be necessary to realize the ambitions which he entertained for his house.

As for Charles V., there is no reason to doubt that he was sincerely interested to maintain the supremacy of the Roman Catholic Church. From first to last he was a stranger to the great religious revolution. He had little conception of its significance, and it took not the slightest hold upon his heart. But while Charles V. looked upon contemporary events with the eyes of a Roman Catholic, he looked upon them also with the eyes of a politician, and had very little inclination to sacrifice any political interest out of consideration for the Pope. In fact, there were times in his reign, when the Pope, as acting the part of a political adversary, received very scant honor at his hands.

Among the secular princes of Germany there was a general feeling of ill-will toward the Roman court; and this feeling descended to all classes of the laity. Even those who had no thought of theological reform were loud in their complaints of ecclesiastical abuses.

Resentment against Rome and the hierarchy was by no means equivalent to love for the evangelical message. Yet the one, as disabusing the mind of a blind allegiance, prepared for the reception of the other.

Among the noblest of those in high station who turned an inquiring and receptive mind toward the teachings of the Reformers, was the Saxon Elector Frederic. The esteem in which he was held is evinced by the fact that, had he so chosen, he might have succeeded Maximilian in the imperial dignity. He prudently declined the honor, in the conviction that the exigencies of the times called for one who could bring to the scepter a stronger hand and greater resources. In his relations to the Reformation, while he proceeded cautiously, he comported himself as a true friend of the movement, and rendered it an invaluable service.