The Life of the Reverend George Trosse: Written by himself, and published posthumously according to his order in 1714 9780773594456

Table of contents :
Cover
Title
Copyright
Contents
Acknowledgements
Introduction
Trosse and the Convention of Spiritual Autobiography
Aspects of Trosse's Biography
Guilt and the Cure of Souls
Seventeenth-Century Melancholy
Trosse and Spiritual Autobiography as Literature
Note on the Text
The LIFE of The Late Reverend Mr. George Trosse
APPENDIX

Citation preview

IIiI I I I I I IiI I I iI I I I I I I I I I I I iIHI l ilil l l l l `I I I IiI I I I I I I I I!I I I INI Iil l l l l l l l 161-I 17/3 73

The

LIFE of the Reverend

461r. Borge rofit Dritten by Himself, and Published Posthumously According to his Order in 1714

Edited by A.W. Brink

MCGILL-QUEEN'S UNIVERSITY PRESS MONTREAL AND LONDON 1974

© 1974 McGill-Queen's University Press ISBN o 7735 0154 3 Library of Congress catalogue card no: 73 79097 Legal deposit fourth quarter 1973

Design by Anthony Crouch Printed in Great Britain at the University Printing House, Cambridge (Brooke Crutchley, University Printer)

Type set in Monotype Garamond with Old English Text Printed letterpress on Glastonbury Antique Laid, Book White

(Contents INTRODUCTION

Trosse and the Convention of Spiritual Autobiography

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Aspects of Trosse's Biography

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Guilt and the Cure of Souls

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Seventeenth-Century Melancholy

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Trosse and Spiritual Autobiography as Literature

3z

Note on the Text

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The LIFE of The Reverend Mr. George Trosse

47 137

APPENDIX

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eAcknowledgements

For their kind assistance in preparing this edition, I should like to thank Dr. G. F. Nuttall, New College, London, Dr. R. A. Hunter, The National Hospital, Queen Square, London, together with Mr. Allan Brockett and Dr. L. H. Long of the University of Exeter. Colleagues at McMaster University, Hamilton, Ontario, have also given their generous support. The research was undertaken with a Canada Council grant, and this book has been published with the help of a further grant from the Humanities Research Council of Canada, using funds provided by the Canada Council and a subsidy from the President's Special Research Fund for the Arts Division of McMaster University.

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3ntrobuttton

Trosse and the Convention of Spiritual Autobiography

The Life of the Reverend Mr. George Trosse is spiritual autobiography belonging to a recognized seventeenth-century genre. Completed in February of 1692/3 and published posthumously in 1714, it is a late accomplishment in the autobiographical literature of English Puritanism. Trosse sums up what is of lasting value in the seventeenthcentury Puritan tradition of self-examination which resulted from recognition and confession of sin. It was this tradition that encouraged analysis of character and sharpened its portrayal in realistic fiction during the next century. Trosse is certainly worth reading as a predecessor of Defoe, but his Life is of more interest than as a document in the history of the novel. It is the culmination of a development of cultural importance—the pathological turn of Puritanism in individual lives and what was done to rebuild the destruction brought by conviction of sin. No surviving example better illustrates the Puritan psychology of regeneration. Trosse's story of religious melancholy is extreme, yet it is the most compellingly presented in later seventeenth-century spiritual autobiography. It rivals John Bunyan's Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners, perhaps excelling it in the handling of circumstantial detail. A brief consideration of the Puritan background of spiritual autobiography will help make Trosse's accomplishment clear. From its Elizabethan inception Puritanism was a religion of the

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heart, of inward converse between God and man; through prayer, inner watchfulness, and study of the Bible, the sin-conscious Puritan attempted to correct his wicked heart. He applied spiritual exercises in the hope that grace would overcome corrupt nature. Religious self-monitoring was encouraged by Puritan preachers and was quickly conventionalized among their followers as the keeping of a diary, the rudimentary literary form from which spiritual autobiography springs. The two earliest Puritan diaries extant were written in the last quarter of the sixteenth century by Richard Rogers and Samuel Ward, both ministers.' From this small beginning came two main sorts of writing about the inner life, the confession and the prophecy. The first exposes conscience; the second promulgates new-found religious truth. Confession was most useful during the setting apart of Puritanism from its parent church and prophecy when separatism began. With left-wing sects and church factions in the vanguard of religious reform during the Commonwealth, the initiative in writing confessional and prophetic spiritual autobiography passed to them. Of the many written perhaps only two, Bunyan's confessional Grace Abounding and George Fox's prophetic Journal, have had a wide and continuing readership since that time. Some of the most colourful and provocative autobiographical material—Ranter and Muggletonian especially —lies unregarded by reason of the unmitigated excess of its style and claims. Rarely does it give evidence of self-mastery and a settled point of view. Mistrusted by many, it tended to give spiritual autobiography a bad name. Nevertheless the urge to write of the inner life spread into all branches of the church. Religious self-revelation produced by soberer Anglicans is sometimes hard to recognize for what it is; yet evidence of the pervasive need to examine the heart and confess its state can be found in such unlikely places as Burton's `Democritus Junior to the Reader', prefacing The Anatomj of Melancholy, and the Cambridge Platonist Henry More's searching preface to his Opera Omnia, while a charmingly subdued prophetic strain is present in Izaak Walton's Compleat Angler. But the most striking revelations of personality were written by persecuted Puritans. Suffering for conscience's sake sometimes carried them almost beyond the limits of endurance, but their will to regeneration was strong enough to prompt them to write down the experience that 1. M. M. Knappen, ed., Two Elizabethan Puritan Diaries (Chicago: American Society of Church History, 1933).

led to it. Regeneration and renewal are the keynotes of what they have to say. Trosse did not fall directly under Puritan influence in his youth, nor did he go among the oppressed Nonconformists until his inner reformation was nearly complete. Yet his Life epitomizes Puritan teaching and attitudes that are neither uncommonly Calvinistic like Bunyan's nor uncommonly mystical like Fox's. Trosse succumbed to a fear of sinfulness, enacting the forms of it he imagined. Then through struggle he surmounted his sense of reprobation, finding the way between excessive guilt feelings and exultant justification. He arrived at an intuitive Puritanism of the middle way, an exemplary sinner saved, restored to unity of mind and with the power to teach others the remedy for fear. Experience qualified him as a doctor of the soul. There is, however, no evidence that he enjoyed the immediate and broad following of either Bunyan or Fox; his fame was probably localized in the west of England, where his preaching was done mainly in Exeter. Nonconformist from the start, Trosse threw in his lot with those clergy who, after ejection in 166z for failing to subscribe to the Act of Uniformity, were greatly persecuted. Some of them speak in the language of the oppressed, but complaint is never Trosse's emphasis. He is the refiner of their best literary efforts. From Nonconformist ministerial hands had come diaries, spiritual autobiographies, and memorials of the times, one of the most inviting but inconclusive of which is by their leading spokesman Richard Baxter, who included a self-analysis in his encyclopaedic Reliquiæ. The range and success of such efforts are great, running from the diary jottings of Thomas Jolly to confessions of youthful wrongdoing by Edmund Trench and Gervase Disney, to Oliver Heywood's more satisfactory experiments with spiritual autobiography, and then to the almost impersonal accounts of Nonconformist affairs by Adam Martindale, Ralph Moresby, and Edmund Calamy. A unified program is discernible through these writings, which trace the devotional and political life of a movement. Seldom, however, are they managed to great literary advantage. Angle of vision shifts and so does willingness to make the candid disclosures of the inner life which confer permanent interest in such historical religious developments. Literary success is a question of the degree to which desire to confess is tempered by prudence and intelligent restraint. Trosse writes his retrospective account, with its carefully managed and adjusted parts, without unnecessary reticence. His first concern is the struggle

Trosse and the Convention of Spiritual Autobiography

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against the satanic possession he felt up to the time of his cure and departure for Oxford. Satanic possession had proved a dangerous subject for the unwary and unskilled autobiographer; it was fortunate that Trosse adopted the sober Nonconformist narrative manner, which had been well tested by the time he wrote. But a new daring was also necessary. Nonconformist caution in justifying any departure from orthodox worship and church government always tempers Trosse's Life, yet he reinstated the naked personal urgency of earlier sectarian writers. This is the main reason for his poised and sure handling of the finished product, a product of fervent revelation unfailingly controlled. Trosse's descent into madness and the long, painful recovery called for a special narrative boldness matched with the self-critical detachment that comes of time, maturity, and a supporting devotional tradition. The Life could only have been a work of later years, depending as much as Bunyan's Grace Abounding on the process of natural ripening, arising from the honest acceptance of all past experience. Trosse's case of religious suffering was so self-evidently significant to his sort of Puritan mind that it begged to be preserved in the manner of an Augustinian confession. The comparison with St. Augustine is made explicit in the preface by Joseph Hallett, and there can be no doubt that Trosse had St. Augustine in mind when fashioning the narrative of how `an ignorant Sot, a debauch'd Prodigal' recovered himself. Such forthrightness could not be learned from sectarians alone. By combining the Puritan habit of soul cure through record-keeping with the Augustinian method of acknowledging divine mercy as it dispels error, Trosse hit upon the formula for a minor masterpiece. Though typically Puritan and Nonconformist in inspiration, it stands in a dass by itself and can be read as the fullest religious self-revelation of the latter part of the seventeenth century. Trosse's Life presents sins which are not imagined but real, though exaggerated by a hypersensitivity to guilt, while his punishments and rewards are unmistakably tangible. The harrowing truth about inner religious disorder and recovery was never more forcefully set down by so certain a hand.2 a. In discussing Trosse's Life Paul Delany commends him for giving us more of his `essential self' than `other Calvinist autobiographers' and for his `gusto and rhetorical art', but he does not accurately judge the book as a whole. British Autobiography in the Seventeenth Century (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1969), pp. 7o-71.

eAspects of Trosse's Biography George Trosse (1631-1713) was born and grew up in Exeter where, apart from voyages abroad and a period at Pembroke College, Oxford, most of his eighty-two years were spent. The autobiography gives the basic facts of his life and supplies its background. In setting the scene it is unusual, though we are left to infer the strength of Trosse's attachment to his ancestral Devon home. He says little of the family's antiquity and local prominence, preferring to move quickly to the real issue, his filial disobedience and rebellion. The youthful illusion of autonomy is so well portrayed that we do not easily think of Trosse as contained by a family of means and education. Many details of early life are neglected, as Bunyan neglects them, except to show incipient reprobation. Perhaps the premature death of Trosse's father has something to do with his growing anger against the judging God, but this is not a speculation Trosse enters upon himself. The essential questions he faces are less psychological than moral and spiritual, and they are put in the most concrete terms. Unresolved moral issues bring breakdown. The reader is taken inside Trosse's disabled mind and given a display of its phantasms. This shift inward, followed by gradual emergence from madness into the normal world, is all important in the book's powerful effect. Trosse wrote as a preacher, using his own deplorable case to illustrate the spiritual danger awaiting those open to temptation. The seventeenthcentury Christian was eager for examples of regeneration after sinning taken from the experience of his leaders. Baxter knew the value of such experiences, as did most preachers. Episodes from Trosse's story of rebirth had undoubtedly been offered from the pulpit or in conference with other afflicted persons long before the whole was cast into full narrative. The retrospective method, allowing the mature judging eye to be cast back over the sins of youth, gives Trosse's book a reassuring quality. There is no Ranterish sensationalism in handling events that were certainly scandalous at the time. Trosse, the proven servant of God, looks back to youth when he acted the God-hater and chief of sinners. He is able both convincingly to deplore a misspent former life and to recapture its racy extravagant quality, enlivening the narrative at every turn. The reader is never allowed to forget that the point of view is that of a reformed sinner who, uniquely fearless

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among English spiritual autobiographers, apparently tells his crimes in full. What he may not so easily remember is that this intense story is being told by a man sixty-one years of age who had decided to confine his account to the 25 or 26 years I liv'd in a State of Nature', allowing less than ten pages to the penalties and satisfactions of entering the Nonconformist ministry. None at all are allowed to the fruitful public career which made up the bulk of his life. Trosse's narrative is not ministerial but moral and psychological. Brevity and concentration are the result. Trosse's life of public service, conducted throughout in vigorous sound mind, was not in need of apology from him. No special selfjustification creeps into the Life, temptation to pride being the very temptation overcome. He wisely excludes a chronicle of his later life which had been so purposefully lived, as most readers knew. Trosse says nothing of his marriage in 168o to Susanna White, daughter of Richard White, a well-to-do merchant of St. Kerrian parish who materially supported Exeter Presbyterianism in this difficult period. Richard White had undoubtedly aided the `little meeting' Trosse tells of being broken up by constables in the reign of James II, but this persecution is in the main line of his narative while the marriage is not. Joseph Hallett's funeral sermon and Isaac Gluing's Life of the Reverend Mr. George Trosse (London, 1715) pay ample tribute to his modesty, his self-possession, and his effectiveness in controlling old demons during the long years as Devon's leading Nonconformist. The almost unbelievable rigour of Trosse's life—rising at four, praying seven times a day, and sometimes preaching eight times a week for never less than two and one-half hours—may suggest ritual denial of the past through excessive work, but it was not so. Trosse denied nothing of his past, choosing to live as a reformed sinner in the very city where some of his worst outrages had been staged and where his reputation had once been notorious. He wanted to be known as a brand plucked from the burning and as a shining example of God's mercy to the corrupt heart. Trosse wrote out of thankfulness for safe conduct past the very jaws of Hell; the rest of his life made sense only in the light of this. Such complete goodness as Hallett claims for Trosse seems accurate: a fullness of piety, charity, and sobriety, the fruits of free grace such as St. Paul had enjoyed before him. The austerity of secret fasts and secluded prayer, a `mean apprehension of himself', continual almsgiving to the poor, tenderness toward those of afflicted

conscience, a pledge with himself never to impugn reputations; all these evidences of a reformed, almost perfected, life are confirmed by surviving records. Their hagiographic intention should not prevent us from agreeing that Trosse became a thoroughly good man. Hallett says, ` Why should any upbraid him with his former Follies, when he has penitently confess'd them, and unfeignedly repented of them...by an apparent and undeniable Reformation, and by a Life of Holiness for nigh 5o years ?'3 One might as well reproach St. Paul or St. Augustine, he adds. The reprobate saved, always remembered for his scintillating brush with evil, carries more human interest in the history of religion than many a martyr. The comparison of Trosse with his great prototype lends force to his story which therefore stands up with the passing of time. His is a proven life, happening to fall into one of the great Christian patterns of redemption and finding complete expression through it. `Much was forgiven him, and he loved much', Edmund Calamy records in his eulogy of Trosse, the Puritan saint.4 He impressed many by the pains taken to redeem lost time, becoming the wonder of those who observed him. And because of spiritual attainment, he was trusted to serve the church oligarchy, the United Ministers of Devon and Cornwall, for many years, sometimes as Moderator of its sessions. After spending 1657-64 at Oxford, which he left without a degree for reasons explained in the Life, Trosse was ordained in 1666 in Somerset by Joseph Alleine of Taunton and five other Nonconformist ministers. With that step taken, he exposed himself to official persecutions which threatened all separatists, from sectarians to the Presbyterians with whom he took his stand. Trosse was no bigot, but a tender-minded Christian who had worshipped on occasion in the Church of England and remained willing to accord others what he considered their measure of light. He was not always as fairly dealt with as he thought others should be. With the Indulgence allowed by Charles II in 1672-73, Trosse preached in a licensed house, but he gave this up when the privilege was withdrawn, preaching and administering the sacrament privately until legal toleration in 1689. 3.Joseph Hallet II, A Sermon Preacb'd at the Funeral of the Reverend Mr. Geo. Trosse, p. 35. This thirty-five page sermon was bound with the 1714 edition of the Life though it appears to have been separately printed in the previous year. 4. Edmund Calamy, The Nonconformist's Memorial (London, i8oz), II, 105.

Aspects of Trosse's Biography

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During the reign of James II, Trosse and some others were arrested for conventicle preaching, though what the informers denounced to the authorities was actually a prayer meeting.5 For this offence he spent six months imprisoned in South Gate, Exeter. Having served his conscience by refusing the Oxford oath against resistance to monarch and church, he passed the time `with great satisfaction and comfort', much as Bunyan and Fox did for their less concealed Baptist and Quaker principles.6 Trosse shares something of their almost cheerful willingness to suffer loss of liberty for beliefs. But we should not suppose him to be among those who gave up everything material for the right to unimpaired prophecy, nor had he a need to do so. Severe though persecution was in Exeter, there was no determination to obliterate Nonconformity as there had been with Quakerism in certain parts of England or with the political Leveller movement. Trosse had little fear on that account, yet his sense of the right order of life told him it was better to suffer than to exercise any sort of privilege. As Calamy reports, `His temperance, sobriety, heavenly-mindedness, and contempt of riches were remarkable. His mother, who died rich, would have made him her executor, but he refused it. She offered him what proportion he pleased of her estate, but he chose only a competency to provide him food and raiment, with something for books and works of charity; and freely let the bulk of her estate go to his elder brother's son.'7 As minister of the thriving James' Meeting in Exeter from 1689 to the end of his life, Trosse enjoyed security and a competent income—a far cry from the youthful desire for riches with which the Life opens. In worldly matters he mixed austerity with prudence and a taste for simplicity. Directions for his funeral make clear that Trosse disliked vain ceremony of any sort; he asked to be buried in a plain black coffin, covered with a decent black cloth without any escutcheons. Yet his estate was ample, and he divided it in a way indicating both strong family loyalty and continuing care for the cause he had served. Money was put aside in the names of dissenting ministers to use for charitable purposes, but the bulk of his estate was left to his wife Susanna and to close relations. Susanna was given all the contents of his Exeter house, `the forepart of the Swan in the f. Allan Brockett, Nonconformity in Exeter, 16Jo-1871 (Manchester University Press,1962), pp. 46-48. 6. Calamy, The Nonconformist's Memorial, 11, 104. 7. Ibid., p. Io6.

High St. right against St. Martin's Lane', an annual income, and prayers that God would remove her `melancholic Conceipt'. The strength of Trosse's family ties is revealed in the remaining disbursements, ranging from considerable bequests of lands and livings among near connections to token twenty-shilling rings to brothersin-law and a cousin, inscribed with the motto `Death and Judgment are near '.8 Despite professing contempt for wealth, Trosse had become custodian of a sizable amount of it which was carefully and judiciously dealt with at the end of his life. Trosse, the popular and esteemed Nonconformist minister, is not as visible in his Exeter setting as we might like him to be. His position in later life as the city's senior Presbyterian minister, with a special hold on the people's affections, is dear enough, but the earlier phase, while he was still preaching in secret, is obscure. The recent impression of him as a somewhat belligerent figure', reinforcing the depleated ranks of Nonconformist teachers', is only an impression, and to judge him fairly we must look at the controversies he took part in toward the end of his career.9 In that age of acrimonious religious dispute, involving local churchmen and the several sorts of dissenters, Trosse, not surprisingly, showed himself to be a moderate. The stance of his autobiography is anything but combative. Unafraid to state beliefs, he never pressed them disagreeably or worked by means of scurrilous attacks. He did his best to keep above controversy, knowing the futility of much of it, and he kept a dignity few chose to assail. We should not doubt that Trosse conducted himself with care from his earliest public emergence as a twice-born man. There are two Exeter controversies which display his attitudes: the controversy between Quakers and their critics over the claims of first-day' against the seventh for worship and the John Withers—John Agate dispute over the definition of schism within the church. In 1692 Trosse had published The Lord's Day Vindicated: or, the First Day of the Week the Christian Sabbath, a lengthy and rather turgid reply to arguments for seventh-day worship made by Francis Bampfield. Predictably, this drew attack from Joseph Nott, an Exeter Quaker, charging Trosse with misunderstanding the real nature of the first day (Sunday) and numerous other errors which 8.A. G. Matthews' transcript of Trosse's will in Dr. Williams's Library, London (MS. 38.59). 9.Brockett, Nonconformity in Exeter, r6Jo-187;, p. 29.

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Nott set out to correct. The differences are in fact small, Nott having to manoeuvre his argument to get around to what he really wants to press—the Quaker vision of Truth and Trosse's `Ignorance of the Everlasting Day of God's Power, that the [Quaker] Saints in Light are enjoyers of.'Io That Nott had written tendentiously is hardly surprising since Exeter Presbyterians and Quakers had previously disagreed over religious practices, with Joseph Hallett H, Trosse's assistant at James' Meeting, publicly opposing Nott and another Friend, John Gannacliff. These unlettered Quakers could not hope to match more skilful Presbyterian arguments—mere corrupt forms of words they might have charged—and when the Presbyterians finally rounded on the Quakers, they showed in what contempt these simple men of the spirit were held. The title is evidence enough of their view: The Sauciness of a Seducer Rebuked, or the Pride and Folly of an Ignorant Scribbler made Manifest (1693). It is curious that while this pamphlet appeared under the imprint of John Salusbury at the Sun in Cornhill, the London publisher of Trosse's The Pastor's Care and Dignity (1693), it is entirely anonymous. We might suspect that Trosse himself was the disdainful author, but it is unlikely that he would have defended himself in the third person as `a Grave and Aged Divine' troubled by `illiterate mechanick[s]', the upstart Quakers." In any case, the preface writer steps in directly to take Trosse's part saying that `The known Abilities, profound Learning and exemplary Piety of Reverend Mr. Tross, set him far above the reach of our worshipful Penny Author's Reproaches. I doubt not but he smiles at the Snarles of this puny, currish Enemy.' At least Trosse gave no sign of approving the methods by which Quaker sincerity had been dealt with, and no doubt he was glad to be clear of the affair which was not pursued in print. Trosse also reluctantly joined a controversy about the legitimacy of the Nonconformists' separated position, a question more vital to him than first-day worship. In 1701 he anonymously contributed his views on separation in A Discourse of Schism in reply to Robert Burscough (later Archdeacon of Barnstaple), who wrote against any separation from the Anglican church. Trosse characteristically calls for understanding and charity towards dissenting Christians, preferring an exercise in peace-making to polemics. He makes the point io. Joseph Nott, Holy Scripture-Work is Better than the Work of the Corrupt Reasoning of Fallen Man (London, 1693), p. 6. II. Anon., The Sauciness of a Seducer Rebuked (London, 1693), Preface.

that there is a lawful conscientious separation not to be confused with outright schism. Separation he suggests may make possible greater spiritual nourishment and better church government than unwilling conformity. Trosse urges that Presbyterians should regard their Anglican brethren in such a way that they `might be of one Heart and Affection with them, though in all things they cannot be of one Head and Opinion '.12 He writes strongly but sensitively in full knowledge of what injudicious pamphleteering may do to increase bitterness and lack of understanding. It is as though he had entered the fray only reluctantly, knowing the futility of much talk in matters better left to healing by time and the Holy Spirit. There is more than mere resignation toward the impetuousness of others in this; Trosse was at one with other Christians on a level they did not easily recognize. Unhappily his well-meant invitation to understanding drew a harsh reply from Joshua Bowchier, M.A., Rector of Bow in Devon. Trosse met the challenge with something closer to rebuke for offensiveness of language and uncivil manner in what, he had hoped, was a Christian cause. Trosse's pamphlet, A Defence of a Brief Discourse of Schism (17o2), was also issued anonymously. Bowchier, Trosse thinks, needs God's forgiveness for his evil methods of dispute. As to the arguments for a Presbyterian over a Prelatical system of church government, Bowchier, he says, fights with `a Paper Shield and a Leaden Sword' leaving no more impression `than if he had ran a Reed-Mote against a Brazen Wall '.13 Trosse then vigorously reviews the arguments, answering them directly, this time with potent rational opposition. The tract shows Trosse's unsuspected capacity for incisive debate, slow to be used but highly effective when it is. There the matter seems to have rested, as far as Trosse himself was concerned, but, as the larger dispute over schism continued, his name was inevitably drawn in again. It appears in the Nonconformist John Withers' A Defence of the True and Impartial Account of what Occurr'd at the Late Conference In Exon...(17o7), an answer to the Anglican John Agate, a recent arrival in Exeter, who is alleged to have been of the company of some who were slandering Trosse. 1 z. [George Trosse], A Discourse of Schism: Design'd for the Satisfaction of Conscientious and Peaceable Dissenters (London, 1701), p. 29. 13. [George Trosse], A Defence of a Brief Discourse of Schism, Designed for the Satisfaction of Peaceable and Conscientious Dissenters (Exeter, 17o z), Preface.

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When Agate writes in reply, it is to express surprise that the Nonconformists found his comment on Mr. Trosse so uncivil. In fact, Agate thinks Trosse deserves rebuke for allowing himself to be idolized by followers: `To let the Reader understand a little of my Insolence, he must know, Mr. Tross is a Person that is even Adored by the Dissenting Party; especially by the Female Sex: insomuch, that 'tis no uncommon thing for 'em to wear his Picture among the rest of their Lockets; and you can hardly talk with any of 'em but you shall be told what a Gifted Man Mr. Tross is.'14 The quarrel, conducted in a personal and vituperative manner, centres on Withers and Hallett more than on Trosse. But Trosse is the subject of an interesting innuendo, suggesting that his irregular early life could still be turned against him. Agate says threateningly that `if our Defender [Withers] is so over-heated, and Storms at such a prodigious Rate, because I just touch'd Mr. Tross his OUT-SIDE; I wonder what he would have done, suppose I had written the History of the Old Gentleman's LIFE! In all likelyhood, this might have stained the Luster of Mr. Tross his Fame, and Church-Men would hardly desire his Company at their dying Moments ...'.'s Trosse, the grave and respected divine, did not rise to this provocation, realizing that the tactic of character assassination tends to discredit its user. There is no instance of yielding to the temptation to answer his detractors in kind; undoubtedly he had declared his religious experience in public often enough not to fear attempts at misrepresentation. When he replies, it is in the briefest, most direct manner. No resentment or ill temper are hinted, showing restraint rather than weariness over the schism controversy. But neither is the ironical intention of earlier pamphlets so noticeable, only resolve not to let the occasion pass without just refutation of Agate, however fatuous his charges. The last five pages of Withers' closing reply, An Answer to Mr. Agate's Expostulatory Letter (1709), contain Trosse's remarks in defence of his own character. They reveal the unworldly detachment of someone who has ceased to regard religious infighting as having the slightest good to be said for it. To clear himself Trosse denies any sympathy toward the regicides who executed Charles I, with whom he has been unfairly associated, 14 John Agate, The Plain Truth: or, an Answer to Mr. Withers his Defence (Exeter, 1708), p. 236. 15 . Ibid., p. 237.

adding that he had no part in the scandalous Calves' Head ceremonies alleged to be held in Exeter each January 3o in mocking celebration of the king's beheading. He then answers Agate's doubts about his administering the sacrament properly and goes on to the matter of idolatry of himself in the dissenting party. This he says is an absurd charge to make against an Affecter of Retiredness, and [one] of a Reserved Humour'.i6 Only three persons he knows wear his picture in a locket, and they do so without permission, nor could he summon the vanity to give it. As to youthful misdemeanours, the most sensitive point, Trosse perhaps guards himself too closely saying, `I confess, in my Youthful Days I was Vain and Frollicking, and guilty of Extravagancies, which I shall Repent of as long as I live; but not of any Gross, Notorious Crime. However I lived then, I might have been deemed Moraly Virtuous in Comparison of some other Young Men of those and these present Days.'17 He adds a little stiffly that I thank GOD, I know so much of my Weakness and Sinfulness, as to be beneath the Praises of Men; and so much of the Innocency of my Life and Practice before Men, that I am above all the Slanderous Reproaches and Lying Accusations of Malevolent Persons '.i8 Trosse closes with a terse statement about the impartial religious enquiry he made at Oxford that led to the Nonconformity in which he remains satisfied. For this he has paid a hard price, while conformity would certainly have procured me Considerable Worldly Advantages', which he has not enjoyed. The final sentence has a wise conviction about it: `If we had All of us more Humility, Charity, Prudence and Piety, these CONTROVERSIES would soon be Conduded.'19 These are the words of someone whose powerful religious experience had taken him beyond society and the established church supporting it. He saw controversy as manoeuvring for personal advantage, and petty egotism in church affairs seemed as reprehensible as it was pervasive. Trosse's main interest, therefore, was in soul-cure, beginning within where the roots of religious discontent lay. He became an astute pastoral psychologist and devotional preacher, committed to the truth of his experience of regeneration and its application in the lives of all who had need. His main task was to 16. George Trosse, `Mr. Tross his Vindication of Himself, &c.' in John Wither's An Answer to Mr. Agate's Expostulatory Letter (Exeter, 1709), p. 22. 17. Ibid., p. 22. 18. Ibid., p. 23. 19. Ibid., p. 24.

Aspects of Trosse's Biography

13

INTRODUCTION

promote what the Puritans called `heart-work', which took him out of the world, kept his words few, and made his exemplary public role a restricted one. This gave his preaching force and penetration. Trosse less reenacts the poet Henry Vaughan's retired search for inner truth than he does the passionate, semi-public devotion of George Herbert. Like Herbert, he states the need for sacrifice, calling on the deepest products of inner experience to authenticate regeneration. Such writing always urges change in the reader, not specifying what it shall be but pointing out its necessity. It is this that allies Trosse's Life to what is central in seventeenth-century devotional prose and poetry. Without a measure of reticence Trosse could not have said nearly as much that was important to those who thought of life as a spiritual pilgrimage. Self-observation must not be self-display, and guidance had to be gentle. The spiritual autobiographer used his medium best when he only implied the universality of his experience. He must seem to speak only for himself. Inner necessity propelled Trosse in the confessional parts of his book as much as it did Bunyan, or Jeremy Taylor in his meditations. As Trosse put it in the preface to a sermon, The Pastor's Care and Dignity, and the People's Duty (1693), he was reluctant to publish even that since `sØce any one more desires Retiredness and Obscurity, or was resolved more against appearing in Publick'. But the personal conflict leading to true religion needed to come out. It is not surprising that one point the sermon makes is the need for accurate self-knowledge, no matter the price, to bring about harmony with the will of the Holy Spirit, the single certain source of religion: `To be able to go immediately to the Fountainhead ourselves, must be more contenting, satisfactory, and delightful, then to receive the streams through Pipes, by which we know not what may have been contracted to allay its Purity' 20 Trosse is saying that in religion he is concerned with realities before appearances, with origins before institutions and with the truth of his inner life in what it teaches about practical relationships. In this his Life accords with what the best seventeenth-century devotional writers of all persuasions have to offer. zo. George Trosse, The Pastor's Care and Dignify, and the People's Duly (Exeter, 1693), p. z8.

14

Guilt and the Cure of Souls No book as vivid as Trosse's Life could have been written without a prevailing fear of damnation. It is useful to look into Puritan attitudes toward this disorder of the soul and its cure. Trosse's Life is not unique as a record of religious melancholy, which during the seventeenth century came to be understood as the leading peril of conscience. Its lineaments were traced by many Puritans who knew that stress imposed by individual religious obligation could be overwhelming; spiritual disquiet of all sorts had therefore to be scrutinized, symptoms and causes identified, and effects described to give the theory of melancholy a practical bearing. Puritan regeneration in the living experience of persons, together with the understanding of religious psychopathology are topics of importance if we are to see Trosse's book as his contemporaries did, rather than as a curiosity from the infantile age of psychiatry. The Puritan preacher's main business was to direct the steps of his followers into paths of holy awareness and obedience—into sainthood which only the prepared heart could hope for. Early Puritan preaching was largely exhortation together with Biblical and doctrinal teaching, but no small part concerned itself with methods of self-discipline and devotional guidance, which the hearer would directly apply. The desire to walk more closely with God was his alone, but he welcomed all the assistance he could get from those who were experienced in identifying mercies and shunning Satan's temptations. An exacting psychology of heart-searching sprang up, and techniques for dealing with pathological states, attributed to Satanic influence, followed. Before 1 boo it had become clear that help for those slipping into the morass of sin obsession would be an important part of the preacher's function. Such early Puritan physicians of the soul as Richard Greenham took effective interest in cases of conscience, offering diagnoses and spiritual cures for the benefit of many. Richard Sibbes was rightly famous for the guidance he offered through the mysteries of conversion in The Bruised Reede and the Smoaking Flax (1630) and to the struggle against Satan's assaults following conversion in The Soules Conflict with it Selfe (1635). Resistance to sin was spiritual man's final test, and experts were needed to prepare him. Sibbes' words were meant to be strengthening not frightening, leading the initiate to see that his case followed a pattern

I5

INTRODUCTION

16

of forgiveness, however discouraging it might seem. To make inner experience public, discussable, and in some sense normal was to make it manageable. An expected course of spiritual progression was laid down by which Puritans could assess their progress. Only so could the individual allay anxieties brought about by urgency to complete the nnfnished work of reformation. But as always, there were cases which existing religous and medical interpretations failed to explain, and it is from these that the most interesting spiritual autobiographies, such as Trosse's, arise. Interest turned to them out of concern about damnation, because the normal had to be sought in new manifestations of the abnormal. Examples of damnation and devil possession were eagerly collected for therapeutic uses right through the seventeenth century. As more extraordinary revelations of mental anguish were published, they made a bizarre mythology of the soul, but a compelling and always useful one. It is easy to find examples of even the more daring attempts to depict guilt-ridden, self-condemning Puritan states of mind. From the modest late sixteenth-century diary beginnings of Richard Rogers and Samuel Ward to the harrowing spiritual autobiography of Nehemiah Wallington (1630), who was tempted by Satan to plunge from the upper window of his London house, development is continuous towards a truthful, if sometimes lurid, rendering of the inner life. Experimental knowledge of both demonic possession and healing by grace finds its way into later accounts of holy lives that set a Puritan norm. Melancholy is usually at the root of them. Samuel Clarke's The Lives of Sundry Eminent Persons (1683) presents, for example, the struggles of John Machin, a minister who kept a diary during the years 165o to 1664 as a means of control over impulses to sin. Machin had visions of being cut to pieces with knives, the action of treacherous Satan, whose temptations could only be resisted through the constant reminders of terror brought by strict reflection and the casting up of spiritual accounts. His story of being twenty years the `Devil's Bond-Slave' before conversion at Cambridge rings true, but individuality is lost through insisting, as Baxter does in the preface to Clarke's collection, that God's graces are much the same in all his holy ones '.21 Baxter notes that ` We live in a time of mental War, when it is the Devil's great and daily business to belie the best of men', which leads to the conclusion that the test of faith is in the 21. Richard Baxter, `To the Reader' in Samuel Clarke's The Lives of Sundry Eminent Persons in this Later Age (London, 1683).

quality of life which impedes Satan's admission. The difficulties of so close a test are formidable. Clarke's Puritan hagiography does not begin to examine the full range of its subjects' melancholy sufferings; victories over temptations are stressed rather than the buffetings they have survived. The Puritan biographer orders and regulates what the diarist has left in a cruder but more telling state. To display the end result of inner peace and composure was what Clarke set out to do. Rendering the hard battles and the sense that failure was as possible as success was left to more adventurous writers who knew the hazards at first hand. They alone achieved the full psychological realism demanded by the Puritan reading public. Writers recognizing the darker side of Puritanism went ahead to show what torments grace might have to cut its way through; those capable of doing so were few. Indeed, the worst that might be contemplated was not put forward in an English example at all but in an Italian one, whose searing immediacy was widely felt among Puritans. A Relation of the Fearful Estate of Francis Spira in the Year 1748, first appearing in English in 1637/8, is not strictly spiritual autobiography but a homily on damnation so potent that it went through many seventeenth-century editions; Wing records eleven. Wherever Calvinist fears of total reprobation were talked about, this book was cited as evidence, and Robert Burton had given it a prominent place in his discussion of religious melancholy for which it was the key document. Spira's case of conscience was simple enough. The prosperous and learned Venetian lawyer had been converted to Lutheranism which he preached until threatened with reprisal by the Catholic church. Seeing his worldly fortunes endangered, Spira recanted before a Papal legate and thereupon fell into unspeakable torments of conscience. These soon incapacitated him so completely that he had to attend specialists at the University of Padua who tried to purge his brain. Evil humours, troubled fancy, and a corrupted seat of judgement were his complaints. All treatments failed and Spira sank into atheism and a sure sense of damnation. Spira became convinced that he was devilpossessed and uniquely damned; no learned divine could prove him otherwise. Many came great distances to observe his agony and hear the remorseful story, told in the expectation that his sin of renouncing truth was mortal, as it quickly proved to be. Spira's case became legendary as manuscript accounts spread throughout Europe. In England Spira's damnation was slower to gain notoriety, but when it did so, it confirmed the worst fears of many Calvinists. For Bunyan

Guilt and the Cure of Souls

17

INTRODUCTION

i8

the book was salt rubbed into a wound, and many Puritans had their trouble increased by thoughts of Spira's plight. The legend became a gathering point for irrational fears of all sorts, evidence that a just and judging God did, after all, condemn the faithless. The Spira legend proved so suggestive that it was not allowed to drop, and as late as 1693, when Trosse was completing the version of his Life to be printed, there appeared The Second Spira: Being a Fearful Example of F.N. Also an atheist apostate, F.N. died in pain and despair at Westminster, after confessing that he had `been a Lucifer upon Earth, and shall, most certainly be a Master-Devil in Hell '.22 He had been a profligate at the Inns of Court. No amount of help by divines could remedy his abandonment by heaven, which was final upon his having sinned against the Holy Spirit, declaring that he would get above God himself. H.L.'s account of F.N. supplements another by J.S., a minister of the Church of England (vouched for by the bibliophile printer John Dunton), who had prodded the sufferer and tried to cure him by reinstating the true revealed religion he had sold for the atheistic creed of Spinoza and Hobbes.23 Under the cloak of anonymity, this affair is made as immediate and disturbing as possible to show damnation as a fact in the great design for man. Even someone as outwardly presentable as F.N., with his good zz. H.L., The Second Spira: Being a Fearful Example of F. N. an Atheist, who had Apostatized from the Christian Religion, and Died of Despair at Westminster (London, 1693), Part Two of The Second Spira by J. S., p. Iz. 23. J.S., author of The Second Spira; Being a Fearful Example of an Atheist who bath Apostatized from the Christian Religion, and dyed in Despair at Westminster Decemb. 8, 1692 [Wing S83] is J. Sault, also given as author of A Conference Betwixt a Modern Atheist and his Friend (London : John Dunton, 1693 [Wing S73z].) The tracts are bound together but have separate title pages, both dated 1693. Wing S733, however, gives The Second Spira to Richard Sault from whom Dunton, the publisher and bibliophile, is said to have obtained the manuscript. Dunton at first attested its authenticity but later regretted he had published this work which he had come to regard as a product of Sault's troubled mind. Fraudulent or not, it had a great success, selling 30,000 copies in six weeks. There was more to come as Spira's recrudescence brought new pamphlets: The English Spira (London: Thomas Fabian, 1693); Thomas James, Spira's Despair Revived (London: T. Parkhurst, 1694); Thomas James, A Vindication of that Part of Spira's Despair (London: John Lawrence, 1693); Spira Respirans: or, the way to...Heaven (London: T. Sowie, 1695); Thomas Sewall, A True Second Spira, 1697.

family and university education, may fall so deeply into despair that nothing can bring him back. The object lesson could not be put strongly enough, or often enough; subtle autobiography was less important than actual sinners displayed. Such exercises in the production of fear had been attempted before, for example in Samuel Clarke's A Mirror or Looking-Glasse Both for Saints and Sinners, compiled and published in 1645. Several stories of damnation appear in these pages emphasizing the remorselessness of divine justice, and many more are purveyed in sermons and tracts throughout the century. Their effect was to raise fear of damnation to pathological intensity. Power of suggestion replicated sorrows in over-sensitive Christians just as the Spira legend took its heavy toll. In 1684 there appeared a large single sheet entitled A Darning from God to all Apostates comparing the preacher John Child, a suicide who had believed himself damned, with his prototype Spira. Child's wilful pursuit of worldly gain and his persistence in error ran true to type, suggesting a strong parallel with Trosse himself. Trosse no doubt knew of such sensational pieces when he wrote his circumstantial Life. But his case, in contrast, offers definite cause for hope akin to The Young-Man's Warning-Piece: or the Extravagant Youth's Pilgrimage and Progress in this World. Being a Faithful Relation of the Remarkable Life of J. Bradwill (1682). This latter Bunyanesque warning sheet is graphically presented for the easy comprehension of all, with twelve crude engravings depicting temptations—hunting, hawking, gaming, drinking, and whoring among them. Submitting to any of these allows folly to drag the young man into the bog of sin. Realizing this, he comes to his senses, cries `Great God Deliver me', recoils from the tortures of Hell, and is led to a true repentance. The actual story of Bradwill runs along this line. He is well educated but falls into evil company; he breaks apprenticeship to a merchant after his father dies, proudly courts the world in fine apparel, spends his inheritance, and falls prey to lenders, gamblers, and blasphemers. He hunts and whores until his mother dies of a broken heart and his friends desert him. Reduced to despair, Bradwill hears a voice assuring him that even so he may find mercy on turning resolutely from sin. A dream of being removed by an angel from a quagmire helps him further, and he ends in a penitential state, having had a vision of a patriarch offering the Bible to engrave on his heart. Such didacticism uses both fear and affirmation to drive the narrative on its way; the result is not so crude as to be altogether removed from what Trosse wrote.

Guilt and the Cure of Souls

19

INTRODUCTION

Nonconformists may not have been averse to contriving such moral appeals, as we judge from the appearance of an undated sheet (perhaps 168z) colourfully called A Dreadful Warning to Lewd Livers: or, God's revenge Against Drunkards, Swearers ... and Prophaners of the Lards Day. With permission or without it, Baxter's name was attached to this undated piece, which gives many examples of sin met by violent death. It is similar in this to other sheets against drunkards and sabbath breakers issued in the 167os, telling much about attempts at popular moralizing during the period when Trosse wrote his incomparable confession. They show Puritanism in its last militant phase, indicating a lurid interest in extreme moral situations. Such emphasis was in fact necessary if lasting impressions were to be made when Puritanism was on the wane. This helps explain the determined candour Trosse was able to give his Life, which graphically portrays an extreme situation for didactic reasons. He knew that if it were to register at all, his autobiography would have to generate enough force to become the definitive work of Puritan despair and regeneration.

Seventeenth-Century Melancholy D. A. Stauffer calls Trosse's Life ` powerful and sincere', saying that `few men have been where he has been and returned to this world to give an account of their wanderings '.24 The wanderings in labyrinths of psychosis, brought on by guilt over drunken self-indulgences, lead us to consider seventeenth-century psychiatric categories into which Trosse's experiences might fall and to ask whether his collapse and recovery follow any discernible pattern. We have said that he improved upon earlier spiritual autobiography and that his guiding beliefs were Puritan, with strong emphasis on the practical question of regeneration. It would therefore be expected that the psychological principles governing his handling of experience were similarly common property. In the period, Trosse's disease would have been described as a species of religious melancholy, induced by Calvinist

20

24. Donald A. Stauffer, The Art of Biography in Eighteenth-Century England (Princeton University Press, 1941), p. 292.

fears of the real heinousness of his acts. Descriptive psychology covered his symptoms, though in no instance can it give them the living cogency of his narrative. A brief discussion of melancholy as it was then understood will help make clear what Trosse wrote, the inner cataclysm he suffered being largely determined by expectations of religious suffering that were commonly held. Religious melancholy is not a term that Puritan diagnosticians always found convenient; Trosse, in fact, avoids it himself until summarizing his condition after it was cured. But the conception is everywhere evident, providing a key to the interpretation of his malady. It was Robert Burton who first assigned religious melancholy its rightful place in seventeenth-century psychopathology. Coming of false prophecy, heresy, and schism, he said, religious melancholy brings with it `a stupend, vast, infinite ocean of incredible madness and folly '.25 Men lose their grip on true revealed religion and, influenced by Satanic superstition, undermine all possibility of a godly life. Burton, the churchman, always upheld orthodoxy, but he was deft and insightful when discussing the individual religious disorder. By being so, the category of melancholy, too inclusively seen as containing any travesty of orthodox belief, is made manageable. He distinguishes melancholy from despair with reference to earlier commentators, some of them Puritans. ` Solitariness, much fasting, divine meditations, and contemplations of God's judgment, most part accompany this melancholy', which does not threaten the active outgoing temperament so much as the inturning one.26 But Trosse's exuberant type may just as certainly fall under the scourge of conscience, leading to melancholy. Here Burton's aetiology is not dear enough to differentiate real from supposed melancholic guilt, but he recognizes the ravages of a bad conscience. They are `more than melancholy in the highest degree; a burning fever of the soul'.27 The consuming fever describes Trosse as well as any spiritual autobiographer who wrote following Burton's analysis of the malady. Burton's words are these: `God's heavy wrath is kindled in their souls, and notwithstanding their continual prayers and supplications to Christ Jesus, they have no release or ease at all, but a most intolerable torment, and insufferable anguish of conscience, and that makes them, through impatience, to murmur against God many 25. Robert Burton, The Anatomy of Melancholy (London: Everyman, 1932), III, 313. 27. Ibid., in, 405. z6. Ibid., III, 397.

SeventeenthCentury Melancholy

2I

INTRODUCTION

22

times, to rave, to blaspheme, turn atheists, and seek to offer violence to themselves.'2$ Delusions and the sense of ultimate condemnation are fully described in anticipation of their commonly appearing in actual records of personal experience. Burton's immense scholarship had enabled him to predict the worst effects of Protestant individualism. When he died in 1640, just following the fifth edition of The Anatomy of Melancholy, his influence was enormous. He does not disentangle the complicated web of psychological cause and effect, but he identifies the true nature of melancholic religious depression as it troubled frail man faced with the demands of an omnipotent God. Burton is short on therapeutic method, but he brought the issue of religious fear squarely before those capable of devising suitable remedies. Thus the constructive discussion of melancholy quickly entered the stream of Protestant life. The earlier Treatise of Melancholie (1 S 86) by Timothy Bright declares its usefulness in helping to determine the special nature of melancholy as God's displeasure against a man, prompting Satan to take control. Burton follows Bright in writing `for the benefit and ease of such as are afflicted', and he repeats Bright's doctrine of possession but with less acumen in therapy.29 Bright's entire discussion had arisen from an attempt to aid a particular sufferer, and this is where the study of religious melancholy had its growing point. Practical remedies for relief of the distressed conscience were above all needed when religious seriousness induced by fear had run beyond control. In devising remedies, careful account had to be taken of all varieties of melancholic suffering. In God's Arraignment of Hypocrites (161 S) John Yeats helpfully explains that there are two sorts of spiritual despondency, that of melancholy caused by exaggerated fancy, and authentic afflictions of conscience arising from a true sense of sin. Bunyan's melancholy answers the first: Trosse's the second, since, as he poignantly relates, his moral crimes were real, however much they had been staged to corroborate deeper inner fears. God's wrath against Trosse was for the immorality which at length smote his conscience. Several other commentators were equally insistent that imagination must not be used to avoid real guilt. John Sedgwick in The Bearing and Burden of the Spirit states that `melancholy prevailing in men doth come very neere to the trouble of conscience, but it is not the wound of conscience here spoken of; Satan makes it his z8. Ibid., III, 406.

29. Ibid., III, 409

bait, and man makes it his burden, but wee may not make it this wound'.30 Trosse's apprehensions of damnation, in other words, were much as the Puritan preachers would have led him to expect, had he had ears to hear before committing forbidden acts. His was in a high degree the real wound, to be healed only by repentance and grace, not merely by the physical and mental therapy prescribed for most suggestible melancholics, who fell victim to over-active imaginations. Melancholia as the interpretative principle of Trosse's Life is used in the sense that true guilt was almost impossible to separate from self-deluded guilt feelings. Most cases, including his own, had a component of the latter. Careful counsel was needed to detect when the stricken thought their debts greater than was warranted by actual sinfulness. Trosse needed help to control his melancholic delusions and to separate them from the outward manifestations for which recompense had to be made. Further, in severe cases like his, it was difficult to keep a distinction between fearing the onset of melancholy and madness itself—complementary aspects of a single disorder. The random destructive behaviour of Trosse's madness springs from an inability to dispel melancholic fears called up by involuntary thinking. It serves as an outlet when real causes are not faced because of erroneous self-evaluation. The melancholic begins by believing he is an evil doer and may, like Trosse, complicate things by performing the acts he thinks a depraved person would. The mania is his helpless self-punishing reaction to feelings of badness. The early seventeenth-century theoreticians were only beginning to see what is so patent in Trosse's Life, that the sadness and fear of melancholy may lead into a perpetual flux of impetuous thoughts characteristic of mania. There is a seeming puzzle in this vying of dark and light mental forces, and contemporary theory did not rise much above its observation. Thomas Willis, the medical writer, at least recognises that behaviour such as Trosse's could be as aggressively destructive as it was desponding, as•often manic as depressive in a later terminology. Willis says that melancholy and madness are `so much akin, that these Distempers often change, and pass from one into the other; for the Melancholick disposition growing worse, brings on Fury: and Fury or Madness growing less hot, oftentimes 3o. John Sedgwick, The Bearing and Burden of the Spirit (London, 164o), pp. "5 f.

SeventeenthCentury Melancholy

23

INTRODUCTION

24

ends in a Melancholick disposition. These two, like smoke and flame, mutually receive and give place to one another.'31 As the reader learns, Trosse portrays cycles of fear and remorse, during which demonic visitations were believed to occur, followed by audacious fury. This is what the contemporary psychologist would have predicted for him—though there would have been disagreement, according to theological persuasion, whether or not devil possession had actually taken place, or in what degree. Few seventeenth-century students of melancholy were directly concerned with this, though Burton believed quite firmly that the Devil suggested things opposite to God's will, which a man could never think himself and which unavoidably struck terror into his heart. This was certainly how Trosse saw it. As religious disquiet among Puritans and others became more troubling, the treatment of melancholy was systematized. Nonconformist ministers such as Timothy Rogers (1658-1728) turned attention to curing the afflicted, often as not because they had suffered among them. Rogers, author of the popular Discourse Concerning... the Disease of Melancholy (1691) and other helpful books, eventually left the ministry overcome by his `hypochondria'. There axe two other books of diagnosis and therapy which throw light on Trosse's self-portrayal, and they concur in their main conclusions. The first by John Moore, Bishop of Norwich, was called Of Religious Melancholy (1692), based on a sermon preached at Whitehall. By 1708 there had been seven editions, attesting the persistence of the spiritual complaint it sought to remedy. Moore is determined in facing the psychiatric issues. He is especially good on obsessive, blasphemous thinking of the kind that held Bunyan and Trosse captive; recommendations for dealing with it are offered, but Moore is too brief to build much confidence in his teaching. The serious enquirer needed something more comprehensive and detailed. This was supplied by Samuel Clifford's The Signs and Causes of Melancholy, with Directions Suited to the Case of those who are Afflicted with it (1716). The date is deceptive. All of this material was gathered from the writings of Richard Baxter, which were published during the seventeenth century. Baxter could not be more authoritative, and we may take him as the main guide for understanding Trosse. As a Nonconformist, Trosse would have been fully familiar with Baxter's writings, so it is not to be wondered that they so frequently seem pertinent. Above 31. Thomas Willis, The Remaining Medical Works (London, 1681), p. 201.

all, Baxter was a practical Christian, writing to encourage those less successful than himself in the ways of holy living. He was so effective a counsellor of those afflicted with melancholy that we may suppose he had suffered the malady himself, though he denies ever having been overwhelmed by it. The editor, Samuel Clifford, is not at all guarded, saying that he himself was very nearly sunk beneath the burden of melancholy and is solicitous for those similarly burdened. The urgency of what Clifford has to say through Baxter's precepts is unmistakable, while the diagnosis and remedy of melancholy are given with greater clarity than any previous writer managed. By this time the humour theory of the disease, that had been necessarily modified between the times of Bright and Willis, was being replaced by psychological and spiritual analyses; the book is mainly concerned with these, setting out in some thirty-five points the signs and symptoms of religious melancholy. This is necessary to catch all the protean forms of a perplexing disorder, the cancer of the soul and the wisest physician's most severe challenge. In many respects Baxter follows the earlier experts, but he is more definite. True melancholy, he says, entails not rational sorrow for sin, but uncontrolled disorder in the imagination, fantasy, and thinking—in fact, `Diseased Craziness, Hurt or Error of the Imagination'.32 This describes Trosse, whose rational sorrow for sin did not take shape until the terrible inner punishments of supposed possession had been passed through with little understanding of what had produced them. For all his moral lapses, Trosse's sense of unworthiness was exaggerated as only an expert such as Baxter could convince him. We have said that the Life as a rational consideration of sin became possible only after years of reconstructing his fall. Had there been no developed theory of melancholy, Trosse could not have come to see it as beneficial, nor could he so skilfully have read back into it a pattern of redemption. It is this alone which gives his book its orderly structure. Most of Baxter's points come out in the narrative, leaving Trosse in no sense unique but the epitomizer, through literary skill, of the most widespread psychological scourge of the time. In a figurative sense only is he the greatest reprobate, the chief of sinners; in truth Trosse speaks fearlessly for a multitude, those intolerably burdened by the Calvinist teaching of depravity. The thoroughness of Baxter's analysis of melancholy is evident 32. Samuel Clifford, ed., The Signs and Causes of Melancholy, with Directions Suited to the Case of those who are Afflicted with it (London, 1716), p. 4.

SeventeenthCentury Melancholy

z5

INTRODUCTION

from a summary of his main points. It is only surprising that he did not draw all these insights together himself, though a beginning is made in The Cure of Melancholy and Overmuch-Sorrow by Faith and Physick (168 3).33 Baxter says (i) the melancholic fears beyond objective reason for it and any punishment may feel like damnation; (ii) he exaggerates personal danger; (iii) he is given to sadness, weeping, and self-accusation; (iv) he is certain God has forsaken him, that he is not elected, and that the day of grace is past; (v) he is easily disheartened by every case of affliction, especially Spira's; (vi) he has no cheer, feeling constantly under sentence for crime; (vii) he doubts Christ's saving power, dwelling fruitlessly on himself instead; (viii) he prefers to be solitary; (ix) he lives by endless finicking scruples and laws; (x) he is unable to overcome mental confusion to enter prayer and meditation; terror drives him on so, not daring to hope, he dare not pray; (xi) he is convinced he hates God and may even want to harm Him; (xii) he has overbusy thoughts which make him think he is hearing voices, sometimes the voices of devils and apparitions; (xiii) he is urged from within, perhaps by Satan, to speak blasphemously against God, Christ, the scriptures, and immortality; the very Pain of their Fears, doth draw their Thoughts to what they fear', adds Baxter.34 Worst of all, (xiv) the melancholic fears he may have committed the sin against the Holy Ghost. (xv) Some feel possessed by the Devil and act as if his voice were speaking through them, but this may be illusion. If real, Satan's presence may be local only, not excluding the spirit of God which continues to dwell even in bad men. In some instances, however, Satan works as God's executioner, enacting his revenge by taking full possession of the melancholic soul, depriving it of sense and understanding. Whether or not this is fatal depends on the degree of sinfulness being punished, on the extent to which the victim has allowed Satan's influence to penetrate. Clearly Trosse came as close to spiritual and physical extinction as might be, saved only in the darkest moments of his strange odyssey by a flicker of the will to election. Thus Baxter's analysis accounts for Trosse's disorder as punishment for wilful ungodliness and transgression of his true moral nature. By his rash acts Trosse let in Satan, 33.This was a sermon written for the morning exercises at Cripplegate but never preached. It appears in Orme's Practical Works of the Rev. Richard

Baxter (London, 183o), xvll, 236-85. 34.Clifford, The Signs and Causes of Melancholy, p. 19.

losing his free will.35 (xvi) The consequence of this is that the severe melancholic is suicidal; if he sees a knife, he is urged to use it on himself by a voice saying `Do it, do it now'. (xvii) Assorted manifestations of deep melancholic depression are refusal to speak, intractability, stiffness of attitude, imperviousness to reason and counsel, refusal to admit being melancholy, and resistance to treatment. Thus Baxter carries the description of religious melancholy far beyond Bright, Burton, and the rest, giving a useful profile of Trosse's type, which begins to look classic in the Puritan setting. Perhaps more manic than Baxter allows, Trosse's story nevertheless runs true to description. Remove the exclusively religious formulation, and the exact features of melancholic distress can be found in modern studies of what Kraepelin first described as manic-depressive psychosis. Though this term is not universally accepted, it has served to modernize the concept of melancholia with its marked swings of mood. Historically this psychological disturbance is one of the most persistent known, varying only in superficial respects over the centuries. In his book on depression, Aaron Beck remarks that `There are few psychiatric syndromes whose clinical descriptions are so consistent through successive eras of history.'36 What makes Trosse's book unique is that his pathological experiences are recorded in the framework of seventeenth-century religious conflict which led him to make a certain kind of sense of them—that of demoniacal possession and 35.The most remarkable surviving account of the Devil taking control of a person is found in Schizophrenia 1677: A Psychiatric Study of an Illustrated Autobiographical Record of Demoniacal Possession edited by Ida Macalpine and Richard Hunter (London: Dawson, 1956). This brief narrative by Christopher Haizmann, a native of Bavaria, is a variation of the Faust legend in which the victim is successfully delivered from pacts made with the Devil. His vivid account is accompanied by a series of paintings made to show the Devil's appearance. Also noteworthy as records of such experience are D. P. Schreber's Memoirs of My Nervous Illness published in Leipzig in 1903, translated and edited by Ida Macalpine and Richard Hunter (London: Dawson, 1955), and Percival's Narrative: a Patient's Account of his Psychosis 1830-1832, edited by Gregory Bateson (London: Hogarth, 1962). Others are noted by Carney Landis in Varieties of Psychopathological Experience (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1964). 36.Aaron T. Beck, Depression, Clinical, Experimental, and Theoretical Aspects (New York: Harper and Row, 1967), p. 5.

SeventeenthCentury Melancholy

27

INTRODUCTION

28

freeing, with disease regarded as punishment for sin and prevention of recurrence depending on a penitential peace made with God. In later ages different systems of interpretation were elaborated by sufferers and therapists to describe the same symptoms. Today's clinician would recognize Trosse's disorder, knowing that its cure would in large part be a spontaneous one, as the narrative indicates it was. Trosse was cured by nature aided by practical Christianity, as nature is aided in each age according to its cosmogony and the therapeutic methods to which it gives rise. It would be wrong to say that for his time understanding of the disease was any less effective than it is now. Baxter moves still closer to Trosse's case in his remarks about the ætiology of melancholy, observing, among other things, that it arises from (i) sinful impatience, discontents, and cares, proceeding from love of some bodily interest to the neglect or repudiation of God's love, and (ii) some great and wilful sin—fraud, robbery, drunkenness, fleshly lust, self-pollution, or fornication, known to be wrong yet prevailing in the range of sensual appetite. In this view melancholy is not purely the result of a sick fancy playing over the possibilities of sin. It Is the existential disease of those who have acted immorally. Religious melancholy arises from ascertainable circumstances in the life of the person, coming about as the result of moral mistakes and compulsive wrong choices. Will to improve is the all-important determining factor in whether the disease is incapacitating or, in the long run, strengthening. Its conspicuousness and violence make it a sure sign of Satan's work, but as in Milton's Paradise Lost Satan may turn out to be the instrument of a benevolent God, whose judgement is for the good of the erring person. What results is a kind of terror-laden adventure in moral education, lived out deep in the unconscious by the forces of darkness and light. Emphasis falls on regeneration, on the regathering and strengthening of spiritual integrity, while never letting go the knowledge of guilt and terror once felt. This is the positive intention of Trosse's Life as well as of Baxter's teaching, to show that however great misdeeds have been, their rectification on a higher level of awareness remains at least a possibility. Thus, far from being despised or even pitied, the melancholics who successfully regather themselves may join the race of saints, as many believed Trosse had done. His story, the wonder of its hearers, proclaimed the active mercy of God by the evidence of religious experience, the Puritan's surest means of authenticating belief.

Baxter's wise and humane discussion of how melancholy may be cured grows out of his long practice of therapy, a therapy to speed spontaneous remission. His recommendations are briefly summarized by saying that the sufferer was not considered competent to heal himself but must first be led out of the mental labyrinth, through spiritual discipline set by a competent person, to arrive in good time at the day of grace. He must not be allowed to fall into solitary forms of prayer or return to the circumstances which produced his melancholy in the first place. The honest company of those who speak `experimentally of the Joy of the Holy Ghost' is best, but conference with others suffering melancholic affliction may be helpful too, if only to dispel ideas of unique suffering.37 Reason may be used to ward off disturbing thoughts, and time formerly given to perplexing oneself with fears must be used to plant `Holy Desires in the Garden of [the] Heart'.38 This encourages thinking about mercies rather than afflictions, wards off sinful impulses, and gradually reduces the harryings and molestations of mind characteristic of melancholy. Occupation is important too; work, social mixing, and good reading, especially Dr. Sibbes' books, will help, says Baxter. But above all, the sufferer is to be kept mindful of God's goodness, for which skilled ministers are invaluable. They are the mediators who resolve doubts and fears, the spiritual guides who separate signs of grace from the opposite, showing that it is in the nature of things for healing to prevail if the patient will cooperate. A specially chosen physician may be able to control the physical side of the disease—the sluggish blood—but of first importance is the spiritual guide, the `Skilful Prudent Minister of Christ, [chosen both for his secret] Counsel, and publick Audience: One that is skilled in such Cases, and one that is peaceable and not contentious, erroneous or fond of odd Opinions: One that is rather Judicious in his Preaching and Praying...', and one that is so esteemed and reverenced that he will be regardfully heard.39 This ideal guiding figure existed at least in the person of Baxter himself, and no doubt in other Nonconformist divines who specialized in treating mental illness. The deep cure of souls was, of necessity, a primary responsibility of pastoral care. The usual way of handling psychotic breakdown in the seventeenth century was to send the patient to a private madhouse if he could pay for his keep. Friends or relations might have him committed, as 37. Clifford, The Signs and Causes of Melancholy, p. 82. 39. Ibid., p. 123. 38. Ibid., p. 86.

SeventeenthCentury Melancholy

29

INTRODUCTION

30

Trosse was committed in 1656 and twice later after relapses. The healing regimen in the private madhouse at Glastonbury is described as `a low Diet, and hard Keeping', the patient remaining under constant observation and when necessary in restraint to prevent selfdestruction.4° Trosse especially remarks that the `Gentlewoman of the House', Mrs. Gollop, was `very religious' and that she had `great Compassion upon me', offering scriptures to comfort `poor tempted and d jected Souls' to hasten conversion.4' Therapy was both physical and religious, intended to draw on the mercy of God. Only after sustained private ministrations did Trosse begin to attend public worship, and only with repeated episodes of self-inflicted suffering was he persuaded to give up sinful pleasure seeking for a more selfless style of life. The perseverance of his lay healers in Glastonbury seems remarkable in an age commonly thought of as indifferent toward the mentally ill. It would be valuable to know exactly what their techniques of therapy were and how they persuaded Trosse to confront the truth about his actions when there was as yet no working theory of the unconscious. We know that early psychiatry was carried on entirely under religious auspices, as provided by an Act of Parliament in 1511 designed to improve the standard of medical care by removing quacks and incompetents. Practitioners capable of dealing with the mentally ill were henceforth to be licensed by the bishop of the diocese upon examination by a panel of established physicians and surgeons. Candidates were required to pay a fee and subscribe to the thirtynine articles. Specialization in psychiatry of a religious sort was thus recognized very early and there are a few known seventeenth-century examples of private madhouses kept by qualified practitioners— persons in holy orders, skilled in physic and hence called `clerical mad-doctors'. Several private institutions in and around London claimed a high rate of success with melancholics, especially one run by the doubtfully qualified John Archer who wrote on the disease in Every Man bis own Doctor (1673). Bethlehem (Bedlam) was mainly a charity for paupers, leaving serious curative work with the mentally ill to known sperialists whose main instrument was religious purgation and conversion. In 1674 James Newton issued a handbill 4o. George Trosse, Life, p. zoo. Later it is described as `Low-keeping and Physick' to which are added good counsel and prayer, p. III. 41. Ibid., p. 96. Unfortunately parish records disclose nothing about this woman.

advertising his madhouse on Clerkenwell Green as capable of curing even those who `have been sixteen years Melancholy'; patients were accepted without prejudice to income, but Newton does not reveal his healing program. Much more needs to be known about such institutions and their keepers; we cannot be certain whether Trosse's healers at Glastonbury had clerical qualification and official recognition. He describes only the compassionate gentlewoman as having success with him, while a clerical visitor worked to no avail. The picture remains incomplete, though certainly his keepers belonged to a specialized company of religious men and women who used their aptitudes for intuitive understanding and therapy to heal the mentally ill. These skilled persons may have been sufferers themselves, salvaged from melancholy by spontaneous cure or conversion and enabled to see their unhappiness in a larger framework of hope. They knew that to alleviate depression and anxiety a healthy conscience had to be restored and supported by obligations beyond the self. They also knew that the only help for melancholics lay in ending excessive self-concern, generated by ideas of sinfulness and inadequacy. They were henceforward to look at the human condition at large, not ignoring its blight and suffering which, like their own, might be mercifully lifted. As we have said, Trosse himself became an effective counsellor of the distressed, as his surviving letters show. Calamy remarks that `He had an excellent faculty in resolving doubts, in comforting afflicted consciences ...' which, if not actually alleviating the most severe mental illness, was offered in the same spirit as the care and attention given him.42 No spectacular cures by Trosse are recorded, unlike those of George Fox and other prophets, but we may be sure that Trosse had come to understand that fear and reassurance were key terms in the mental life.43

SeventeenthCentury Melancholy

42.Calamy, The Nonconformist's Memorial, II, 1o5. 43.Fox's letter to Lady Claypole, Oliver Cromwell's daughter, who `was very sick and troubled in mind', is a model of that wise counsellor's strategy in healing `which awakens the principle of God within'. H. J. Cadbury, ed., George Fox's Book of Miracles (Cambridge University Press, 1948), pp. 1I1-14. A number of Fox's cures were of persons `distracted'.

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INTRODUCTION

Trosse and Spiritual eAutobiography as Literature Finally we return to spiritual autobiography and the question of Trosse's literary achievement. There is certainly accomplished Nonconformist spiritual autobiography with which to compare Trosse's Life, yet its only seventeenth-century rival for power and literary finish is Bunyan's Grace Abounding. The experiences from which the two books grow may differ in kind but not intensity, and each exactly finds its requisite language. The living language of Puritan England, as vivid and concrete as one can cite, fills the Life. We may compare Bunyan's rendering of how bell ringing tore his conscience with a similarly frightening episode from Trosse. Bunyan gives his account two paragraphs (33 and 34) while Trosse used only a few pungent words: `When I heard the Bell ring, I thought it to have been my Doom out of Heaven; and the Sound of every Double Stroke seem'd to me to be, Lower down; lower down; lower down. .into the Bottomless Pit.'Ø Such psychological resonance, got by simple means, puts these two writers in a class by themselves. But what of spiritual autobiography being written at the end of the seventeenth century and in the next? Is there anything to compare with Trosse's Life for the compulsive energy and truthfulness which give the book its claim? To weigh up all evidence fairly would require a thorough survey of spiritual autobiography into the eighteenth century, and this we cannot hope to do. Instead, a few suggestions about useful comparisons will help establish Trosse's position among the foremost spiritual autobiographers in England during this important period of activity. Despite growing scepticism toward religious experience as the age of enlightenment opened, notably from Swift in his satirical Memoirs

32

44. George Trosse, Life, p. 93. The church bell seems to have been a particular irritant to those of melancholic temperament in the seventeenth century. George Fox records that `the black earthly spirit of the priests wounded my life; and when I heard the bell toll to call people together to the steeplehouse, it struck at my life, for it was just like a market-bell to gather people together that the priest might set forth his ware to sale'. J. L. Nickalls, ed., The Journal of George Fox (Cambridge University Press, 195 2), P. 39.

of P. P. Clerk of this Parish, important spiritual autobiography continued to be written, supported by a stream of religious enthusiasm issuing at length in the Methodist revival. If anything, the determination to portray religious search took on new strength after 1700, though published examples are fewer than in the days of greatest separatist controversy. An old difficulty persisted in the inability to give satisfactory form and sequence to material. Only writers of autobiographical fiction, notably Defoe in Robinson Crusoe, met the challenge of their craft. Defoe, looking to Nonconformist spiritual autobiography for the pattern of Crusoe's religious odyssey, and perhaps specifically to Trosse's Life, gave æsthetic wholeness to his moral tale. But later seventeenth-century autobiographers themselves, not writing with so discriminating a literary public in mind, often failed to see the importance of taking a total view of their product. Some promising material, every bit as psychologically compelling as Trosse's, was all but lost to later readers. The careless supposition among spiritual autobiographers that religious content alone mattered is a regrettable feature of much of this writing. The eccentric bookseller John Dunton might not immediately come to mind as someone likely to write a masterpiece of spiritual autobiography but he made two serious attempts, each richly laden with unrealized possibilities. In The Life and Errors of John Dunton Late Citizen of London (1705) garrulous self-review sweeps all before it, and however penitential he professes to be, the result is still a massive assertion of self-importance, the very fault Swift charged was damaging to the genre. Yet Dunton's struggle against pride brought a kind of repentance for the troubles he had caused, and his hypothetical reliving of events is more than a mere token of reform. Dunton's method of self-examination was no doubt partially effective, but it never carried him into the deep purgatorial suffering he needed to be rid of egocentricity. He remains self-absorbed and wandering, though the earlier Religio Bibliopolæ (1691), published as the work of `Benjamin Bridgewater', benefits from Sir Thomas Browne's example in holding together the verbose ramblings that Dunton so easily fell into. Dunton is very much like the more trustworthy Thomas Halyburton, Professor of Divinity at St. Andrews, whose Memoir (second edition, 1715) tells a fascinating but disorganized story of Puritan suffering and search. Halyburton's plight as a fear-ridden Calvinist, given to sinning in obscure ways, confused by moving from Scotland to Holland and back again, and plagued by thoughts of Roman

Trosse and Spiritual Autobiography as Literature

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INTRODUCTION

34

Catholic designs, is sometimes moving. But his relation of the extremity through which he passed is so diffuse and loosely interpreted that, despite vivid language, the book fails to make any coherent statement. His deliverance, his `openings', are lost in the amassing of detail imperfectly understood, and the reader is left wondering what inference is to be drawn from Halyburton's experience. Like Dunton, he displays a collection of attitudes and qualities extraordinary enough to warrant recording them, but sincerity of intention is not enough. Neither writer, for all his efforts to do so, was able to pass his experience under the searching light of complete exposure, necessary to formal fusion. Something was held back, some critical area of experience left unexamined or centre of confusion Ieft untouched, so that the literary process could not move to completion. It settled into narrative at the superficial level of the episodic. Trosse, and Bunyan before him, started with a sure sense of complete inward transformation, at a safe remove from the time of crisis, and methodically worked their way back through its genesis. This is the secret of their expressive power. There are two mid-eighteenth-century spiritual autobiographies which merit consideration as companion pieces to Trosse's Life. John Newton's An Authentic Narrative (1764) is a skilful work set out in a series of letters that were solicited from him, rather than written for self-cure or to advertise singularity. The letters are dignified and restrained, parcelling out the story of fall and recovery in manageable quantities. The reader's interest is always held in Newton's seagoing adventures with which his spiritual fortunes were mingled. Writing in the age of the novel, Newton managed much of the narrative freshness of Defoe and Richardson. A sense of decorum and a careful calculation of the reader's responses are everywhere present, making this the most politely restrained of all first-person religious narratives. His psychological perils were effectively met, giving the book substance as vital as Trosse's. The parallel with Trosse's seagoing misadventures is marked, and here too voyaging generates the full strength of metaphorical analogy with the journey from allegiance to Satan to allegiance to Christ. But for all his skill Newton had outlived the age when the separatist Ianguage of spiritual peril and survival was readily available to him. He is disappointingly cautious in describing his conversion, and seventeenth-century biblical symbolism is overlaid by conceptions uneasily drawn from Horace and other classical writers. When Trosse speaks of walking in a garden during

convalescence, his words have a simple archetypal resonance. Newton looks for something more sophisticated. He writes a rare neoclassical spiritual autobiography with admirable formal balance and surface smoothness but without the hard-hitting immediacy of Trosse's relation. The moment was brief when Bunyanesque language of spiritual terror retained full credibility, and it was over when Newton wrote. Trosse's time was more fortunate, poised between Puritanism's greatest activity in the nation and the beginning of sceptical reaction —when the issues were still alive and the treatment of them fluid. By the 169os, means of putting spiritual experience into narrative had been proven to the point where the next step was toward enlargement in fiction. This earned literary gain at the expense of authentic self-examination and its emotional immediacy. Earlier in the century such emotional immediacy, carried in a vigorous narrative of adventure, is found in The Journal of Richard Norwood (1640). Norwood (159o-1675/6), an important English colonist in Bermuda, writes of his conversion from indifference to godliness as it came about in the life of a sailor and settler. A reader of St. Augustine's Confessions, Norwood writes of the melancholic dejection he had known. His racy style reminds us of Defoe, but the self-revelation falls short of Trosse's in unwillingness to name and describe what he calls his `master sin'. Hesitations and outright cancellations in the manuscript show a degree of reticence common in the opening phase of Puritan spiritual autobiography. Coming when he did, Trosse embodies the full strength of emotion in a continuous controlled narrative. In his Life, the sinner saved is no mere theological abstraction but a nakedly suffering man, a sort of Puritan King Lear compelled to speak by inner necessity. In comparison Norwood is an indistinct figure. Defoe's Crusoe remains an adventurer in the world before he is a spiritual man, and while Newton is emphatically the latter, he presses his account of inner experience only reluctantly. Trosse's fearless approach to his subject matter in simple colloquial language strikes exactly the right note, convincing us that if he is not quite Lear, he is much more than a rational Christian demonstrating the value of conversion. A similar and predictable trend is found in the still later eighteenthcentury spiritual autobiography of Thomas Scott, TheForce ofTruth: an Authentic Narrative (1779). Scott sets out to write of the intimate workings of heart and conscience but, in fact, tells how he battled through the arguments of Deists and Socinians to a just understanding

Trosse and Spiritual Autobiography as Literature

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INTRODUCTION

36

of the Christian ministry. Intellectual fashion made him a reader of Locke and Soame Jenyns as well as of the mystical William Law, who nearly alone carried on Protestant spirituality until Wesley revived a religion of personal experience and with it spiritual autobiography. Scott is as intellectual a spiritual autobiographer as Law was an intellectual defender of mystical religion. Choices between alternative systems of belief, and the arguments supporting them are all important, and the individual believer finds himself much more in the public arena, much less left alone to conquer fears if he Ø. Scott's intellectual awareness and the clarity of mind with which he adjusted to Methodism come at a price beyond even that paid by another defender of enthusiasm, Thomas Woodcock. Woodcock's An Account of Some Remarkable Passages in the Life of a Private Gentleman: With Reflections Thereon (1708) is spiritual autobiography made as harrowing as possible, expressly to dispel the scepticism about religious experience he saw massing around him. His combative pose is alien to the genre. So is Scott's intellectuality, and both books lack warmth. Thinking about the religious predicament of individuals had become too precise, critical, and public. The spontaneity of Bunyan and Trosse had gone. It is true that Scott shows a kind of humility and dispassionate selfobservation, but there is also a rational guardedness which the evident ardour of his search makes inconvenient. It is a much greater talent—William Cowper's—working under another kind of urgency that originates a later spiritual autobiography worthy of comparison with Bunyan's and Trosse's in the central Puritan tradition. The Memoir of the Early Life of William Cowper Esq., written about 1765, is a confession of inadequate living, breakdown, and religious regeneration after the most acute mental suffering endurable. It is a disarmingly simple and direct `history of my heart', humble and brief but so poignant that no reader, however unsympathetic, can fail to respond to it. Cowper was a true melancholic, fearful, confused, and ashamed of sexual inadequacy. He exhibits melancholic depressive features more completely than the manic-depressive Trosse, and the debilitating results—inner brokenness and suicidal wishes—come close to being fatal. The pattern of confession is very similar, but more matter of fact than Bunyan's, which approaches total subjectivity. Cowper avoids the chilly restraint of his spiritual mentor at Olney, John Newton. Indeed, the narrative gives inner and outer forces the true balance of sanity. Circumstantial thoroughness in treating the inner life is what links Cowper most closely with Trosse and Bunyan. They share a willingness to reconstruct fully

the events leading to suffering and collapse, doing so without dissembling, evading, or unduly imposing rational standards. The sheer directness of their presentations, the unblinking clarity of view, is the measure of the health they reached. Each narrative is itself full evidence of sanity won, and each moves surely through the process of collapse and regathering, never faltering, because the framework of salvation was visible. Cowper's moral error, of hoping the Clerk of the House of Lords' Journals might die leaving the valuable appointment to him, is of the same order of ambition that drove Trosse to his youthful misadventures among overseas traders. Corrupt motives in Cowper's securing his appointment take their toll, working against conscience as they did with Trosse who used lies and deceit in a vain attempt to remedy difficulty. Breakdown comes as the result of actuality in clash with undiminished moral sensitivity; self-will passes its natural limits. Both Trosse and Cowper falsified their true natures, and they write of their search to reestablish and live by the rule of conscience. Religious conversion involves the abandoning of the narrow selfseeking that blocks true self-realization. Both writers are unafraid to show the pitiable spectacle of their episodes of suicidal madness because the passage through was courageous and strengthening. Trosse finds a literary echo in Cowper's ability to make vivid, repeated attempts at self-destruction which involve the reader to the point of painfulness. But at the same time he knows a true direction has been found. The course of regeneration is very similarly handled —compressed, factual, and utterly realistic, giving the diminishing mental terrors their true outlines. These are never more than the reader can accept but enough to delineate the mental condition precisely. Reading, friendly solicitude, treatment in a private madhouse all have their curative effect, yet above them is the mystery of conversion which alone lightens the burden of guilt. Perhaps we miss Bunyan's insistence that the reader shall be party to every emotional wind of change, but after all Bunyan alone could know where those winds blew. Cowper gives the essence of the stages he passed through, using such Puritan terms as conviction of sin and despair of mercy, which hold the account of his `second nativity' tightly together and in its tradition. A sense of setting is present, and there are symbolically fitting references to regenerating gardens of innocence in this sparest of pilgrims' progresses. Of sea voyaging and imprisonment for conscience there is nothing. The element of high adventure with physical uncertainty and danger may be missing

Trosse and Spiritual Autobiography as Literature

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INTRODUCTION

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from Cowper's narrative, but in its transparent honesty, its effective control of intense emotion and carefully regulated symmetry, it is perhaps the only worthy successor of Trosse's Life. Thus if we ask about achievement in Puritan self-revelation during the period of its ascendancy, the names to be mentioned first are those of George Fox, for his narrative of mystical awakening and apostleship, and more typically of the melancholically afflicted, Bunyan, Trosse, and Cowper, for their moving accounts of guilt-ridden collapse and regeneration.

dote on tjje Jrext

The text of the present edition is substantially that of the first edition of 1714, the most complete to appear. Trosse's autobiography to 1689 was finished 15 February 1692/3 when he was aged sixty-one and published after his death in accordance with his instructions to his widow. The will does not contain this instruction which appears in Trosse's manuscripts, included in Isaac Gilling's biography of him. The Life was to be printed `as soon after my Death, as conveniently it can be done' and entirely at his wife's cost. It appeared under this imprint: Exon: Printed by Jos. Bliss, for Richard White, Merchant, and sold by him at his House near the Elephant in Northgate-street, as also by Hen. White, at Mr. Burridge's, Grocer, in Southgate-street. 1714. Price 18d.' Joseph Hallett II (1686-1722), Trosse's successor as minister at James' Meeting in Exeter, supplied the preface to which was added his funeral sermon. The present edition omits both, since they say nothing Trosse does not say better for himself. Hallett's preface is interesting in one main respect: for its examples of Trosse's predecessors known for their spiritual terrors and comforts, sometimes

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NOTE ON THE TEXT

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written about autobiographically. Beginning with St. Augustine's Confessions, Hallett justifies Trosse's literary effort by giving it illustrious antecedents—the martyr Thomas Bilney, the Puritan convert William Perkins, the French Calvinist Theodore Beza, the Huguenot Francis Junius, and the Puritan preachers Robert Bolton and John Rogers, several saved from profligacy and all undeniably spiritual leaders. Hallett thought it appropriate to print on the title page a quotation from Luke 15. 7: `I say unto you, that likewise Joy shall be in Heaven over One Sinner that Repenteth, more than over Ninety and Nine Just Persons which need no Repentance.' The text of Trosse's Life was approved, and perhaps even 'corrected', by other divines before printing, as he indicated it should be. Hallett appears to have made few if any editorial changes, the only certain evidence of intervention being a pair of notes on Trosse's family connections appearing on the first page. The present edition incorporates the twenty-nine corrections noted on the errata slip in the 1714 edition. These corrections may be by Trosse's biographer, Isaac Gilling, whose hand appears in a number of marginal corrections made in a copy of the 1714 Life preserved in the Library of New College, London. Original spelling and punctuation have been retained throughout, except for long S's and words printed entirely in upper-case letters. This typographical emphasis on such words as `God' and `Christ' is more curious than meaningful in the original book. Trosse's Life was reduced by later editors to suit purposes of religious instruction and history writing, but none of these versions add much to our knowledge of the original text. An abridgement from manuscripts was made by Isaac Gilling in Part I of his Life of the Reverend Mr. George Trosse, Late Minister of the Gospel in Exon. (London, 1715). Another by the Religious Tract Society (London, 1833) follows Trosse's printed experiences in the third person as `an extraordinary instance of the sovereignty and power of divine grace'. Sir Jerom Murch also used the Life in A History of Presbyterian and General Baptist Churches in the West of England (London, 1835). Unfortunately the effect of these later renderings is to destroy the wholeness and pungency of what Trosse wrote, particularly concerning his madness and recovery. Some passages bearing on Trosse's illness are given by Richard Hunter and Ida Macalpine in Three Hundred Years of Psychiatry 1131-1860, A History Presented in Selected English Texts (Oxford University Press, 1963). The 1714 text has never been improved upon. Gilling, however,

had access to `a large Manuscript, discover'd since the former Narrative of his Life was Printed' (p. a) which he used in his biography. The full autobiographical contents of this and other manuscripts Gilling saw (p. 6) are not disclosed. In fact, he shows knowledge of the manuscript from which the Life was printed, remarking on the vigour with which Trosse had accused, judged, and condemned himself for youthful follies. `For a Man to draw up a Narrative of many Quires of Paper, of his Sins and God's Judgments, for the use of near Relations, while he was yet alive: And, when he was above Sixty Years of Age, and had been Six or seven and twenty Years in the Ministry, to abridge it, and order it to be Printed after his Death, discovers such Zeal for the Glory of God, such Love to Souls, such deep Hnmility and Self-Denial, as are scarce to be parallel'd' (p. 86). In all likelihood these manuscripts did not differ greatly one from another. If the surviving passages from them give any indication, the abridgements were slight. The manuscripts Gilling reports may simply have been handwritten copies of the autobiography passed around among Trosse's friends and relations, as was sometimes done with confessional material in the seventeenth century. Four manuscript passages quoted in Gilling's biography are introduced into the present text as having greater substance than the passages they augment or replace. These are indicated by square brackets.

NOTE ON THE TEXT

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Of the REVEREND

to. rolie Late Minister of the Gospel IN THE CITY OF EXON IVI o Died January 11th 17 Iz3 In the Eighty Second Year of His Age Written by Himself, and Pnblisb'd according to bis Order

`A good conscience is a continual feast', but a galled conscience is as great a torment as can possibly happen ...another hell. Burton Antony of Melancholy

The Life of the Late qeverend e7klr. George Trosse I was born in Exon, Octob. 25th, in the Year 1631. of *Wealthy Parents, honourable Citkens. My Father was, by Profession, a Counsellour, and my e Mother the `Daughter of one who had twice been t Chief e2klagiftrate of that City.' They gave me the usual Education of those Days amongst such as were no Friends to Puritans: They were averse to the Placing me with such, either to be bred up in 'eligion or Learning. I was taught the Principles of `l eligion, call'd upon to read the Scriptures, forbidden to sport or play upon the Lord's-Day, made to frequent the Publick eAssemblies for Worship on that Day, and to sit demurely there; and should be reprov'd and corrected, if in these RespeEts I transgress'd. Yet, too often I thus offended: I sported and play'd with others upon the Lord's-Day; (which, in those Times, was publickly permitted and allow'd.) I never car'd to understand, or to retain, what I heard in Publick; never, as I can remember, being call'd to an account by my Parents, after the Sermon and Service was over; and so profited nothing by all that I heard. All my Younger Years were spent at the Grammar-School, to learn the Latine Tongue. I had a quick eApprehension, and some good Inclinations towards my 'Book, and made some considerable Progress in that Sort of Learning, and that far beyond my

i.The original notes read: `*The Grandfather of the Reved. Mr. George Trosse was an Esquire by Birth, and bred a Counsellour at Law. He had Nine Sons; the Eldest of whom was the Father of Mr. George Trosse, who was also bred at the Inns of Court, and was likewise a Counnsellour at Law. The Two Youngest were educated for the Ministry, and the rest design'd for the Law. They had but One Sister, who was married to Sir Jobn Specket of Tbornbury. `-l-Mr. Trosse's Motber was Daughter of Alderman Burrow, who

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The LIFE of the Reverend was twice Mayor of the City, and also a considerable Benefactor to it. Many of his Relations marry'd into Great and Honourable Families: So that he was related to many Persons of very considerable Quality.' (See Appendix) z. Trosse's education most likely began at a dame school, continuing at the new free Latin and Greek school, which was established shortly before he was born. This school, rivalling the Exeter Latin High School, had been given strong support by Trosse's maternal grandfather, Alderman (late mayor) Walter Burrow. At the grammar school Trosse read Greek and Latin, as well as received instruction in observances of the Church of England. The Exchange was a building where merchants gathered to transact business. Exeter was the distributing centre through which moved both the exports and the imports of the whole area, and regional commerce was the economic lifeblood of the city.

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Contemporaries: Insomuch, that, several Years after, being in my School-en/Lager's Company, he, hearing me nam'd, said, `he had once a Scholar of that Name, whose Removal from his School he was more troubled at, than for the Removal of any other he had ever the Instru&ion of; being one of the most forward and likely Boys he ever taught. And, he thought, (he said) that my Mother did me and himself an Injury, to translate me from the School to the Exchange, from being a Scholar to be a e 'l'erchant.'Z Thus I continu'd at School 'till I was about 14 or i S Years of Age, in which Time I was seemingly more Virtuous than others, not inclin'd to such Extravagancies and P denesses as other Lads of my Age were; but was modal, civil, and dutiful, generally speaking, to my Parents, and induftrious in Learning, &c. Yet, all this while, I was a very eAtheift; knowing nothing with a serious affecting Knowledge, no not one eAttribute of God, or any Principle of 1Wigion; omitting, as far as I can remember, the very elkla#er of R ligious `Duties in secret. I was a violent Enemy to Puritans, and to such as were a teem'd, and doubtless were, the most Holy and really ¶F ligious; a Zealous and irrational Friend to, and Contender for, Cavaliers, Bishops, Ceremonies, Common-Prayer, &c. a great Reproacher of ftritt Professors, and a Blasphemer of the Spirit, speaking jeeringly and derisively of him, and his Gifts, Graces, 7tegency, and of Praying by the Spirit. I learnt reproachful Sarcaftical Songs against these Things, taking great Delight therein, as that which was agreeable to that Cursed Carnal Principle which rul'd within me: Never endeavouring to imploy my Invention in any good Thing, or to commit to my e7Vlemory any Texts of Scripture, pious Sentences, or the like, unless by my Parents I was compell'd to learn and retain them. But this Course of Life did not so well please me, nor the `Devil, as I may well suppose: For, having a `Loving Fancy, a `Desire to get Riches, and to live luxuriously in the World, I was bent upon e9Vferchandke and Travelling into Foreign Parts. But

e7vfr. Ge0. TRO SS C then in this I had no other Motive, but the Satisfying the Great Lords and Commanders of the unregenerate World, the Lugs of the flesh, the Lufts of the eyes, and the Pride of Life. For these would I forsake my e7Vlafter's School, where I was commendably and successfully imploy'd, and might, in Time, by a farther Proficiency in Learning, have been fitted for Serviceableness in my Generation. For these would I desert my e7vlother's Yam!' where I was under a careful Inspection, to prevent all gross Immoralities and `Debaucheries. For these would I abandon, for a Time, the Church and Ordinances of Chrift, in and by which I might have gotten the Knowledge of the bell Things, and, for ought I know, have been brought to love them, and to have been efettually infiuenc'd by them. But I ran wandering I knew not whither, and so expos'd my self to dangerous Temptations. My tender e7Vlother comply'd with my Inclinations, as knowing the Profitableness of Trading, by having been the Daughter of a eVlerchant, who got many Thousands; tho' my father, who died several Years before, design'd me for a more Ingenious Education, and a Calling altogether as profitable, as appears by his Bequeathing to me all his Law-Books, with his Collections relating to that Study. Hence I may date the Beginning and Occasion of my afterSins and Calamities: For, going abroad into a tempting World, with a blind e7Vlind, afoolish fancy, and a graceless Heart, without any considerable Experience of Humane eAffairs, I was easily led into great Sins and dangerous Snares, and so laid my self open to very great evils of several Kinds; as you will more fully understand by what follows, which I the rather chuse to relate, that I may warn others from venturing upon the like Temptations, and to caution Parents against indulging their Childrens unreasonable Inclinations. Being about 14 or 15 Years of Age, I was bent for France, and then sent thither to learn the Language of that Country; and as I was going to take Shipping, having no Book to peruse, nor other Business, I went into some Company to drink with

The records of admission of Freemen to Exeter Trades, 1620-4o, show the predominance of merchants in the woollen cloth trade, the county's chief export. (W. T. MacCaffrey, Exeter, r f¢o-r64o [Harvard University Press, x958], pp. 162-3.) It is little wonder that Trosse should have been attracted to this central function of the city's economy which carried with it the high adventure of seafaring.

49

The LIFE of the Reverend

3.Powderham, the Devonshire port of embarkation, is on the west shore of the river Exe, below Exeter. Tor Bay is the English Channel bay in which Paignton, Devon, is situated. The ship's destination was Morlaix on the Cates Du Nord in Lower Brittany. This was one of the most frequented French ports, receiving fish from Newfoundland, Cornish tin and woollen cloth from Devonshire. Return cargoes were heavy linen and hempen cloths made in Brittany and Normandy, probably the largest items in Exeter's extensive imports. Many small manufactured items were also imported.

5o

them. And I was led away by sinful Inclinations to an alluring Objett. From exeter I went to Powderham, to ship my self for e vlorlaix, where we continu'd about Six Weeks waiting for a Wind to carry us over the Bar: All which Time I idly trifled away, engaging in nothing that was good, never bowing a Knee to God; but kept vain company, play'd at Cards, talk'd foolishly, ieer'd at Godliness, and was a proper and welcome Companion to the Ungodly and Prophane. After we had sail'd over the Bar, we were put in at Tor-Bay, where we tarried another Week, (as tho' the Winds meant to have prevented my Running upon my own rine).3 There I was a very Brute, as before, and ne'er how'd a Knee to the eAlmighy, tho' I had an Example given me by a Papifl, (who sayl'd, in another Ship, with us to the same Place) whom I found once upon his Knees in his Chamber: But I rather eSteem'd it an eAt of a Papift than the `Duty of a Proteflant; and was rather prejudic'd against it because of the Performer, than thereby allur'd to its Performance. But, at length, the Wind favouring our Design, we set Sail, and in a little Space (about a Day and a Night) we arriv'd safely at e llorlaix; not only preserv'd from Waves, Shelves, and `Drowning, but also from Irish Pirates and Slavery; for there were many then (in the Year 1646) upon those Shores, who had taken many Vessels, and dealt very severely with those they took: and the Ship which sail'd in Company with us, at her Return, was taken by them, as I was afterwards inform'd, & the eel/faller of her was confin'd to a Prison, and died there. Which gracious and merciful Preservation of mine, as I never sought at God's Hand, so I never acknowledg'd it to be God's Work. Thus I arriv'd at Lower Britaigne, iny'rance, a profane eAtheifl, a rooted enemy to the Power and Profession of real Godliness. At that Place I found no Society which might help to reform me; but rather such as might eftablish me in my Wickedness, confirm me in my Prejudices against real Godliness, and encrease my eAversion

v9/fr. GEO. TROSSE

toPeligion: For I met there with no grill gWigious Person: There were some who were civil and sober; but others wild and riotous. The first Place I landed at was eOLlorlaix, where I was consign'd to an English e712erchant, to dispose of me as might be most convenient for my Purpose of Learning the Language, and to furnish me with all such Things as I should need. In a little Time, I was Lodg'd and Dieted in an English House, where was no Family-Duty perform'd all the Week; only a Sermon, or some `Pr-allical Book, read upon the Lord's-Day. Here I continu'd a few Days, before I had Cloaths provided me, which were made gallant and modish: A Vanity design'd to please a foolish e7Vlind, and a Snare to a proud Fancy. Hence, in a little Time, I was sent to `Pontive, & lodg'd in the House of a French Proteftant e 4'finifter; (who was a eMinifter to the English Merchants at e7Vlorlaix, and us'd to meet them at C Juingan (if I mistake not the Name of the Place) once a Quarter, to preach and adminifter the Sacrament of the Lord's-Supper to them; and he admitted any, without making Enquiry into their Knowledge or Conversations. He liv'd at a considerable Distance, about Seventeen Leagues from them; and so could have no Acquaintance with them, but at such a Quarterly Meeting. In this c7Vlinifter's House (which was a Castle of the Dutchess of `1 )han, then a Troteftant) were several other young English Lads lodg'd, to learn the French Language.4 Within a Year, I arriv'd at a considerable Knowledge of that Tongue, and spake it readily: Insomuch, as they were pleas'd to say, there was but one English e7Vlan before me who excell'd me therein. For, being young, having a good e7Vlemory, and some Knowledge of the Latine Tongue, I easily obtain'd it. And this was all the Good I got in France, whilst I had my Abode there, for all the Money I there spent and wasted. All the rest I did was evil, and the Matter of kepentance. We had no Family-Prayer in this e21/1inifter's House, (tho' I do not know but the Family might pray together in their own Chamber; but

4. Pontive is Pontivy on the Cotes Du Nord, and Guingan is Guingamp. During the seventeenth century `Le province synodale de Bretagne' contained eleven churches, fourteen pastors, and about 6,000 adherents, many of whom were 5'

The LIFE of the Reverend employed in the cloth trade. The church at Pontivy was formed in 1561. (Samuel Mours, Le Protestantisme En France Au XVII• Silcle [Paris: Librarie Protestants, 1967], p. 65.) The family of Rohan had long been prominent in the Reformed Church in Bretagne, but the Protestant connection lapsed when in 1645 Marguerite de Rohan, only daughter of the Duc de Rohan (d. 1638), married Chabot, a Catholic. (B. Vaurigand, Ettai stir l'bistoire des 8glises riformies de Bretagne [Paris, 1870], II, 118.)

52

they did not pray with those who took their `Diet with them) only once, on a Lord's-Day, the Ovlinifter's Son read a Chapter and a Psalm, and some Part of their Common-Prayer. We never pray'd conjunåly. And as to my self, I negle&ed all solitary and secret Prayers. We had Two e7l?en, who came to learn the French with us, who were both Professors of 'R ligion, and one of them more eminently so: Ife, indeed, gave us a good Example, retiring by himself daily, and with some due Strictness observ'd the Chriftian Sabbath. But neither these Persons, nor their `Practices, did please me: For I maintain'd and encreas'd my eAntipathy to them; which, many Times, I discover'd by foolish and unreasonable 'vilings; looking upon them all as ¶bels againft the King. After the Service of the Lord's-Day was over, we spent the `l emaining Part of it as we thought fit our selves, a&ing and talking as on other Days, or rather worse. For upon the Lord'sDay the Idolatrous Pa. pi.Fts, after their eillass was over in the Morning, and some other unreasonable and superstitious Services in the Afternoon, would go out of the Town, (very near the Cattle) and there the Young e512en and e7llaidens were wont to dance upon the 'Dove, which was a wising Ground before the Cattle. They danc'd together in a Ring, Two of them leaping in the midi-, and when they had shewn their eAclivity, they would call other Couples out of the Ring to do the like. Of this foolish, indecent, and dangerous Exercise We were the pleaa'd Spectators; and a Young Øoman of the e7lrfinifter's Family was permitted and allow'd to do the like. Yet I can't remember that the leaft Reproof was given us for this. For the french Proteftants, as they hold not the e7lforali0 of the Sabbath, so neither do they at all observe it as a `Day of Sacred `Deft: For between Publick Worship, or after the Close of it, they are wont to walk, and talk, and recreate themselves, as on other `Days. All that while, I ne'er sought to God, no, not so much as in a Formal OVfanner, either for the obtaining any good Thing, or for the Removal of any evil; but would sometimes take God's

e711r. GEO. TROSSE Name in vain. Whilst I was there, I was seiz'd with an e.4gue, (the usual Disease of Young English e214-en upon the Change of eflir and Diet) which continu'd upon me about the Space of Nine Weeks. This reduc'd me to great Weakness, and brought me nigh to the Grave and Hell. Yet, notwithstanding this `rebuke of Providence, I ne'er thought of God, of Sin, or 'Death, of the Day of ,7udgment, of Heaven, or Hell: But behav'd my self like a 'Brute under all, And had I then died, I should have been Damn'd e'er I fear'd or thought of it. Here I found my Corruptions encreas'd, and I began to be more vain and foolish, in my Language and Carriage, towards those of the other Sex: I was proud and haughty, quarrelsome and contentious, rash and revengeful, Once a Companion of mine (born and bred in the same Ciy with my self) offer'd me some little Affront, as I apprehended; and with a Knife I attempted to wound him; and had his Doublet been open, I might have given him a very deep, if not a deadly, Wound. While I was in this Place, God was pleas'd to remove Mr. Nmet (the e7llinifter) by an untimely Death. He had been dangerously ill of a Fever just before, and had not as yet ventur'd abroad. At that Time the Dutchess of Phan had married a Popish Gentleman: She, with her Husband, coming down into Britaigne, it was given out, That she would come to the Cattle, and reside there for a few Days. In order to her better Entertainment & e4ccomodation, Workmen were imploy'd to repair and cleanse the Cattle. Upon a Lord's-Day, Mr. Ramet went out of his Chamber to view the Reparations, and going up to One of the Windows in the Gallery, he lean'd his Hand (as was thought) upon a rotten Piece of Timber, which breaking under him, the whole Window, `roof and all, fell down upon his Back; from under which he was taken fainting and panting for Life. He was led a turn or two about his Chamber, and died. Many such Providences have fallen out with relation to such as have concern'd themselves about Secular eAffairs on the Christian Sabbath: Tho' it was not so sinful in him, who was

53

The LIFE of the Reverend

54

taught to believe it yudaical to hold one Day more holy than another, and so a&ed according to his own Principles which were against the Morality of the Sabbath. But this his untimely `Death was a great Scandal to the Papas; and they would insultingly cry after us, when we went abroad: The Great Dog (or, The Great Heretick) is sent to Hell; or the like. Their ,7esuites, Prielts, and Friars, taking this Advantage in their Discourses, either in the Pulpit or out of it, to defame the Protestant ¶eligion, and prejudice their People against it. This Stroke given the Family call'd aloud for Sympathy and Pity, especially to the poor, desolate Widow. It was the Duty of us all to do our utmoft, in our Carriage, Behaviour, Words, and Language, to alleviate her Sorrows, and comfort her; but some of us, and I in particular, did the quite contrary: For we rais'd Ruarrels, and sawcy 'Debates, in the House, to her great `Discomfort; and I kept a-foot this proud Contention 'till my Departure; then I, unhumbl'd and unreconcil'd, left the Family: Which was a Carriage very disingenuous and uncharitable towards so eAged, so Grave, so cAfiEted a e7vfatron. Having pass'd about a Year in Pontive, I returned to e. forlaix, loaden with a great deal more Guilt than lay upon me, when I before had left it. I was now more confirm'd in my Blindness and eAtheism, more addicted to a vain and ungodly Praiiice. Here I tarried about Three Quarters of a Year, and was more wicked and foolish than I had been before: For I met with greater eAitratlives to Sin, and more Fewel for my Lulls. I spent much Time and Money in Tennis-Courts and Taverns, where, many Times, I drank to Excess, and that to a great Degree of it. But when I came again to my self, and reflected soberly upon what I had done, I was greatly asham'd, and dis leas'd with my self; looking upon it as an unreasonable and disgraceful Sin, which expos'd me to the Censure and `Derision of eden; but did not consider, that it laid me open to the Wrath of God. After I had thus expos'd my self by such e vIiscarriages, I took up ¶esolutions, and made Vows, to leave them for the future.

e7vfr. GEO TKOSSe But all these having been made without any Sense of God at all, by the Direction, in the Strength, and for the ends of Carnal self, they were soon forgotten and contradicted, that I might comply with my Sensual Inclinations. I remember, that once I had such a Sense of my Intemperate Courses, that I made a Vow (That I would drink no more in a Tavern) : Which Vow I kept for a little Time : But, a while after, going again to the Taverns, I call'd to mind my Vow (of which I had some awful7tegard in my Conscience); but being strongly inclin'd to drink with my Companions, I either put my Head out of the Window, or went out into a Gutter, to drink, thinking that Way to satisfy my Conscience, and secure my self from the Breach of my Vow. But at Length the Sense of my Vows wore out, & forgetting my B\esolutions, and disregarding the Convictions of my Conscience, I could drink as freely in a Tavern, and to as great &cess as I had done before. Here, as to elfoney, I had a plentiful eAllowance, or rather too much of it: For where there is much e7floney, little Wit, no R ligion, a vicious e hind, and no 7.eprover, a Person is expos'd to tremendous evils and extravagant Follies. During my Stay in this Place, I idly spent away several Pifloles in Learning to `Dance, and in accomplishing my self in e7vfusick. The latter, the better of the Two, I soon forgot; but the other I frequently practis'd afterwards, and was not a little proud of my presum'd Excellency therein. Thus having spent a great deal of elfoney, and about Two Years, in France, I departed from e4'forlaix, and went down about three miles off, to take Shipping. And here, tarrying some Days, instead of confessing my Sins in that Kingdom, and begging Pardon at the Hands of God, and resolving to forsake them, that I might return to my Native Country and ¶elation with God's Blessing, I encreas'd my Guilt & my Sin. For here, I remember, I drank excessively, in Company with an extravagant Young Person, who was Sottish to a great Degree. But then I took Ship, and under a great deal of Guilt left France.

55

The LIFE of the Reverend

S . The harbour of Topsham is at the farthest point inland on the channel of the Exe, lying a few miles from Exeter. About a third of Exeter's foreign trade moved from this port in small ships.

56

By God's gracious Providence, to such an eAtheiff and provoking Wretch, I safely arriv'd at the Harbour of Topsham; but never return'd God Thanks for his Protetyion; neither did I consider, that He conducted me thither and preserv'd me. s When I arriv'd at Fxon, I thought to have found my e2klother there; but she liv'd in the country: Whereupon I rose to visit her. But now I was very much concern'd about the eAccount I was to give her in relation to my extravagant f penes; having spent about Six or Seven Score Pounds. And to prevent her Difpleasure, I invented a Lie; pretending that I had been afflicted in my Absence by agreat Sickness, which had been very chargeable to me. I remember, I told my Friends, that I had been bleeded several Times; which was a gross Lie: For I had never any 'Blood taken from me all the Time of my Stay in France. In the Telling of which Lie I persisted for many Years after, often affirming, that I had many `limes been bleeded in France. This I frequently repeated, without the leafy Temptation to it, or Hope of Profit that might redound to me by it. For my Gold spent in France, I brought over broad Gold-Lace upon the Sleeves of my 'Doublet, which greatly offended my eMother, who ript it off, and would not suffer me to wear it. Here with my ellother I liv'd some enl'onths vainly and foolishly; never applying my self to any Thing that was good or commendable; but liv'd without God, without chrify, without any Sense of 'R figion, or any Thing of Concern for my Immortal Soul; I was well contented with my wretched Condition, never intending to alter it. I was still bent upon e2v1erchandke; presuming I should be a more successful Trader, & a richer e7Vlerchant, beyond the Seas, than I could be at Home. Hereupon, I desir'd to visit some other Country again, and my e lother was also very willing of it, for my Worldly Advantage: For she could have a Prospect of nothing else by my Going into Foreign Parts. There was too much Cause to fear, that if I should go thither to gain Wealth, I should lose my Soul, or sink into Hell, by the Bargain:

e kfr. GEO. TROSSE Because at that Time, I was such a foolish, fantaftical, graceless Young Lad, and had been such a Prodigal before. I wish all Parents, as they love the Souls of their Children, and value their own Comfort, would not suffer their Children to go beyond the Sea, 'till they have some good Ground to believe that the `Loot of Grace is in them, and so God engag'd with them for their Preservation: Or else, that they would commit them to some .flrictly Holy and 1.,eligioua Person there, who would faithfully discharge his Duty to their Souls; the Number of which, in my Time, for ought I could understand, was very small. I cannot say I knew any One Person of such a Character, but marry of a different one. [If I had ever so many Sons, and could have them plac'd abroad for nothing, I would sooner sell my Shirt from my Back to place them here with an ordinary Tradesman, under whom I could expect no great Profit or Preferment for them, than send them to the richest Merchant in Spain or Portugal.] The next Place of my Abode was London, whither I was sent by my friends to a Brother-in-Law, who was nearly related to a Portugal e7Vlerchant, of some Years and Experience, who at that Time, also liv'd at London. It was judg'd expedient I should apply to him, that he might recommend me to a entailer in Portugal. Accordingly I was sent with a great deal of e7kfoney, that I might have sufficient to induce some e7Vlerchant or other to entertain me as an eApprentice. Whi1§t I continu'd in London, I was lodg'd in the same House with this Portugal e7Vt'erchant, and did eat with him at the same Table. Here I was very unhappily plac'd: For in that family there was nothing of Religion to be discem'd: No Divine Service perform'd either Morning or Evening; but much of the Devil's Service done both by Night and by Day. My Kinsman and the entailer of the House were both great and common Drunkards, returning usually to their House at Night, much in Drink, so that they were scarce able to 47eak or go. The Wife of the e7Vlafter of this family was sensual and irre-

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The LIFE of the Reverend

58

ligious, unconcern'd about the Things of God; and it was said, she was jealous of her Husband; which occasion'd great Feuds and Contentions between them, insomuch that they gave each other hard Words, and some Blows were exchang'd whilst they were in Bed; which, in a little House, and where the Rooms were near each other, I could very well hear. These Persons had Two 'Daughters; the younger of them haughty, shrewish, and not comly; but the elder beautiful, and of a winning Carriage, and one who than was in all the rest, and greatly pretended to more bewail'd the enormous Wickedness of the family, and the unchriftian Contentions of her `Parents: She would often interpose and allay them. She had a pious education under an Uncle of hers, who had been Ld. e7vlayor of London, and had the Reputation of being a `.Religious olvian. But these her ,Qualifications prov'd a Snare to us both. We sought all Opportunities to be together in some Place of g etirement, where no mortal eye might observe us; where impure Flames betray'd themselves by amorous Glances, Words and eAC`ions. And these Carriages were much the more blameworthy, because I knew she was betroth'd to another Man beyond the Seas. These were great Offences against God, and Breaches of the Seventh Commandment, tho' we made light of them: For I knew not the Spirituality and 'Perfeilion of the `Divine Law. In such indecent Conversation we liv'd as long as I made my Stay in London, which was Three or Four Months, God yet retraining us from grosser enormities. Here I also liv'd idly, apply'd my self to nothing commendable, not to the Learning eArithmetick, or the Improving my Hand in Writing, that I might the better answer my Design: But my Time was spent in frequenting Taverns, where I gam'd much, and often drank to Excess, and still kept up and encreas'd my eAntipathy to Godliness and the Professors of it. I went, in those Days, to a Church, where the Common-Prayer was constantly read, against the Laws & Contlitutions which were then in Force; being zealous for I knew not what, and

e~Vlr. GEO. TROSSE

contemn'd what I ought highly to have lov'd and honour'd; despising the Simplicity of gospel-Worship, doting on Ceremonies and humane Inventions.6 While I was there, it was thought convenient I should be made Free of some Company, that, at my Return from Portugal, I might claim my Freedom. Accordingly I was made Free of the Woollen-Drapers Company. At length a convenient Opportunity presented it self, and all Things being ready for my `Departure, except my self, (who was very much unprepar'd for such a Voyage, because of my great Guilt, and the `Dominion of my base Lugs) I went to Gravesend, where the Ship, I was to make my Voyage in, then rode.? Before I began my Voyage I did not so much as confess my Sins to God, or beg the Pardon of them, neither did I seek to him by Prayer for a safe Conduit, neither desir'd I the Prayers of any others for me; not considering, that had I loft my Life, by Shipwrack, in that Condition, I should have perieh'd everlastingly. I was very desirous that the Young Gentlewoman I had been so familiar with should accompany me as far as possible. She comply'd with my Desire, and prevail'd with her Father to consent. So she and the Family went with us to Gravesend, where we continu'd a Day or two. While the Ship was hoifting Sail and the eAnchors were weighing, these Persons were aboard; where she and I found an Opportunity of Rtiring from the reft of the Company, and behav'd our selves foolishly and wantonly together. Thus, in the Height of such sinful Passions, and just upon such unwarrantable 'Dalliances, I took my leave of her, and departed from my Native Country. Thus we put to Sea, bound for Oporto.8 We spent Three Weeks in our Passage. The eillaster of the Vessel seem'd to be a very sober, serious, and, it was said, a very religious e.91/fan. He, as I was told, pray'd with his own Son, and probably with his Servant, in his Cabin. But I do not remember, that he ever pray'd or read any part of the Sacred Scriptures, or sung any

6.During the years of Parliamentary rule, of which Trosse writes in this part of his Life, the Anglican Book of Common Prayer was forbidden and replaced by the Directory which specified Presbyterian liturgical forms. Anglican worship continued perilously. 7.This time Trosse sailed from Gravesend, the main Thames port, apart from London.

8.Oporto is the principal port city and trading centre of northern Portugal. In the seventeenth century, sailing ships could reach Oporto itself on the river Douro.

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The LIFE of the Reverend

9. Trosse had gathered some saints' names

Go

`Psalms of Praise, in the presence of his Seamen or `Passengers; which, doubtless, was a great Neglell: For he ought to have accounted us as his Family, and his own Charge, and so daily to have perform'd these `Religious `Duties with us; tho' what he did was better than a to/l Omission of all Duty; which, it is to be fear'd, too many e7lfariners are chargeable with, who, tho' they see the Wonders of God in the Deep, and are expos'd, at every turn, to a great many `Dangers, yet never present their `Devotions to God. It is well if they do not do that which is far worse. As to my self, I was a perfect eAtheift all this while, tho' for several `Days together I saw nothing but Sea and Heaven. I never look'd above the Clouds, to observe the Tower of God, in .ftretching out the one like a Curtain, and confining the other like a 'Drop in the Hollow of his Hand. Tho' we continu'd so long upon the rolling Waves, and there was but an Inch between ses and `Death, between me and Hell; yet had I not the hail eApprehension of the `Danger of my Soul; but was as ignorant, and silent towards God, as the scaly Inhabilnts of the Sea which danc'd about the Ship. But, notwithstanding all my former Follies and present Stupidities, we were, by God's eAlmighty and merciful Providence, safely conducted to our desir'd Harbour. Upon this, Portugal comes to be the next Theater of my Life, and my e.4bode there was another sad and sinful Period of my Days. Here I found Popery the only 'P ligion. For tho' the engliah e7vlerchants andFaffors were not Papills, tho' they went not to elfass, did not make their Confessions to any Triefts, did not fall down before Idols, did not pray to the Virgin e711ary, to e7llargaret, to Ursula, to e/Ippellonia, to George, to Chriftopher, did not lash themselves, and fetch the Blood from their Backs, did not run a Gadding in Processions and Pilgrimages, &c. yet had they no `Religious `Duties perform'd amongst them, as far as I was able to discover.9 They were prallical eAtheills, and so worse than those miserably deluded Idolatrous Wretches. It is true, there was no Toleration of the Proteftant `Religion during my Stay in that Place; and such was the Rigour of the

eillr. GEO. TROSSE Inquisition, that they took away all Devotional and PraMlical Books; at least, as soon as a Ship arriv'd from a Proteftant Country, they demanded their Books, seal'd them up in a Bag, and carry'd them to their Convent; where they kept them 'till the Ship had her Dispatches, and was again ready to sail. Much less would they permit a e7frlinifter to Officiate there, or allow any Social Worship of God amongst the Proteflants: Tho' the ProteEtor, after my Departure, got Liberty for the English Merchants to profess their own R ligion, to have Proteftant Pastors amongst them, to Preach to them, and to administer all other Ordinances, under the Eye of the cruel Inquisition: Which Privilege, I think, was never before obtain'd. This was what was Commendable in Cromwel. But tho' the English Merchants had not the Advantage of Publick Ordinances, yet they might secretly have kept their Bibles, and other good Books, if they had pleas'd. They, many Times, adventure their Cftates and their Lives to steal Cullom, and to send Home Bullion; but with much more Safety might they have conceal'd a religious Book, and, far more profitably, prudently and dutifully, have run a little Risque for the Good of their Souls: But this many of them would not do; This was what they car'd not for. I do not remember that I ever saw a Practical Discourse, or a Bible, there; or any One solemn A& of `religion perform'd: Neither could I discover any the haft Observation of the Lord's-Day; but usually those Days were spent in Caging up of Books, recreations on the 7Q'ver, or Abroad in Chinta's Houses of Pleasure, Gardens and Orchards in the Country. I o I cannot say that I ever heard God nam'd, (at least in our House) unless in vain. English Merchants generally live in the Sins of the Country, Wantonness and Uncleanness; and in those which are not cufomary with the Natives, namely, Excess and Drunkenness: They discover little Sense of a Deity, or of the Apprehension of the Wrath of God due to them for their Sins. The Popish Inhabitants, in this Respect, are better than they; for they fail, say over many Pater Noflers, submit to

at random in a jibe at Roman Catholic idolatry. By 'Appellonia' he means the thirdcentury St. Apollonia, a deaconess of Alexandria martyred for her undaunted preaching of Christianity.

io. Chinta is Sintra. Trosse's note on Sintra as `Houses of Pleasure in the Country' should not give the impression that illicit activities were carried on there. Sintra, with its spectacular natural beauty and its Moorish palace with surrounding villas, has long been a preferred place of resort.

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6z

many kinds of Penances, by which they hope to expiate their Guilt: But our Countrymen, manifest not the least Regret for their Miscarriages; no Sorrow for their many Offences, or `Dread of 'Divine Vengeance: Which cannot but be a practical Denial of God, a tacit Blaspheming Him, and a horrid Reproach to the true, saving Religion. Beside, their ungodly Demeanour prejudices those Ignorant and Superstitious Persons against the Proteftant 'ligion, as if it was a Doctrine of all Licentiousness, and gave an unbridl'd Liberty to all kind of Villanies; as if they were no Way prejudicial to Mens Souls, or Incentives of the Wrath of God. In a Word; the Generality of e7vlerchants live there as Men who are resolv'd to get the World, to please Themselves, to gratify their Lulls, while they are there; And then at their Return to their own Land, they resolve to pra&ice the 'Duties of `religion, that is, the Matter of them: For they who have no `religion Abroad among 'Papifls, have rarely any at Home among 'Proteflants; unless God, at their Return, works graciously and efficaciously upon their Souls, and makes them quite other Persons than they were before. I might enlarge upon this sad Subje& of the Wickedness of our Merchants in Foreign `Parts, (as to the greaten Number of them) but my Design is not to entertain the Reader with a Discourse of Others Lives, but my Own. Here then I still continu'd my Profaneness, and negle&ed the Duties of Religion; never bow'd my Knees in Prayer to God above once or twice, and that I did ignorantly, and without any real Devotion; tho' I sometimes did it to Idols, symbolizing with Idolaters in their Ceflure, that I might avoid their Anger. I also gave up my self to the wicked Pra&ices of the 'Place andFamily; to 'Drunkenness, to divers Impurities and base Obscenities. A lewd Fellow-Servant led me to practise a Sin, which too many Young e7'Ien are guilty of, and look upon it as harmless; tho' God struck Onan dead in the Place for it. We had in the Family an Old g■Curse, the Housekeeper, who had had two Bastards; and, tho' Old in eAge, yet Young in

eklr. Q 'O. TROSSE Lewdness: She would often lie 'Dead 'Drunk, and so expose herself to all imaginable Indecencies. Beside, there was in the Family a Young Comely, but Wanton, Wench; so that there was Fire enough to kindle my Tinder, to beget impure Flames within, and to induce me to praise the most abominable Uncleannesses : But tho' I was continually haunted with lascivious Speeches, C eflures and eAllions without, and with impure fancies within, yet, by the good Providence of God, I was renrain'd from all gross, compleat e.4ils of fornication; tho' I sometimes did what direly led to it. The greaten Part of my Time, in this City, was spent in our House idly, seldom or never looking so much as into a Book of Ififlory, or any other; but play'd at Tables, attended upon our e7Vlailer whil'n he play'd, filling him flagons of Wine and `Pipes of Tobacco, for many Hours together by 'Day, and very late in the Night: Thus was He imploy'd, and thus We gave eAttendance; many Times upon the Lord's-Day. We sometimes contriv'd Ways to .Real away Flagons of Wine for our selves, when we had no need of it; for we had a handsome eAllowance, but we abus'd it to Excess, and made the Old Woman extreamly drunk with it, and then horribly abus'd her. Upon the Lord's-Day, I did Nothing better than upon other 'Days; it may be, I did what was worse. I then went to the Taverns, and play'd at ShuJe-Board and Billiards; would go either over or up the 'River for Sport and 'creation, &c. Thus I liv'd, in this City, a Child of Belial, about the space of Two Years and Half, and should have liv'd there many more, in all Probability, had not God, by His gracious Providence, prevented it: For my Kinsman at London (with whom my Money was left to be paid to this wicked e2frlerchant, at the Time when I was to be bound an Apprentice) refus'd to pay the Money in that City in English Coin; and would only pay it in Portuguese Money in such a Manner as would have been detrimental to Him: Whereupon, my e7vlafler discover'd his Dislike of this, and told me, He would not entertain me as an Apprentice at that Rte. At this I was greatly concern'd and

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z z.Aviero is Aveiro, and the university town Trosse passed through is Coimbra, where the Portu-

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troubled: Beside, receiving no Letter from any of my Relations all the Time of my Residence there, (tho' many had been written) and fearing that the Time during which I had serv'd already, would not be allow'd as any Part of my eApprenticeship, and having arriv'd to the Age of nneteen, I was resolv'd I would stay there no longer, but would return for England; Which Resolution I was fully fix'd in, and communicated it to my el/faller. This did not please him, therefore he told me, That if I would desert his Service, I should pay for my `Diet for all the Time I had been with him. Which to me seem'd hard and unreasonable; because, during my Stay, I had done him so much Service; had, in effect, been his Steward, his Butler, his Chamberlain, and his Shoe-wiper; and had been serviceable to him in his Business as a e klerchant; and had run many Hazards for him, and endur'd severe 'Dealing from him. But I was in the Lion's Mouth; and from Experience find, that where there is no `Piety, usually there is but little Equity. Well! I was resolv'd I would continue no more at such Uncertainties; therefore, chose rather to pay for my Diet, than to commence any Quarrel with him: AT'aitor of his kindly sparing me what was demanded, and when I had paid it I left Oporto. I have Cause, as long as I live, deeply to repent of every Hour and e7Ylinute of my Continuance there; because, I so wickedly and sinfully mispent all. But tho' I left Oporto, I did not remove from 'Portugal; for a Ship of considerable Burden and Force being there, was order'd to Lisbon, to take in her Cargo for England: Wherefore determining to return in her, I departed from that City, and travell'd by Land to Lisbon, (which is about three Days Journey) thro' eAviero, and the University of Conimbro.I I The Country thereabouts is poor, and the Soil barren; so that we carry'd our Vi&uals in Leather Bags before us, (which, as I remember, they call'd eAllforges) and our Wine in Leather Bottles, (which they call Boraches.) In our Lodgings we met with very mean Entertainment; the House little better than a Com-

e7vfr. Ge0. TROSSC mon Stable; the Beds lay upon the Ground, and all other Provisions were suitable; and a Wanton Wench attended us. In which Journey I was accompany'd with the 'Pro-Consul of Oporto, a Tapia, with whom I safely arriv'd to the Place I design'd for. 1 2 At Lisbon I tarry'd about Three Months; for so much Time was spent before our Ship was loaden and dispatch'd. There I happen'd at first to light on an Cnglish House of Cntertztinment: The Hostess seem'd to be very civil, sober and model; and, on this Account, did not please my Humour: Wherefore, going with some vain Companions to the House of an Irish Woman of id Fame, whose Husband was Abroad; finding this Person more agreeable to my foolish Temper, I left the former, and took up my Quarters with her. There I spent my Time and my e doney idly and wickedly in Gaming and `Drinking, and should have been guilty of that other Crime (too usually the Attendant of the former) had I had Opportunity for it: But still God, in His Providence, prevented it, tho' I expos'd my self to all 'Dangers, and tempted the very Tempter. While I was in that Place, I made a Visit to the Convent of the English Jesuites, where I saw all Things very fine and plentiful. There were all eAttratlives of Sense andrang, and several Young Persons recreating themselves. The e7Vlen who accompany'd me in Travelling from Oporto told me, That those Persons were all Gentlemens Sons of our Ns/ion; and exhorted me, To join my self with them, and then I might live as handsomly and happily as they did. Thus that subtle Person laid a Snare for me, to induce me to be of their Society and `religion. But what he did was not from a pure Design to gain a Proselyte, or from Zeal to the Glory of God, or Love to my Soul; his Aim was not to make me a Catholick on Earth, that I might be a Saint in Heaven; for then he would have endeavour'd to have detain'd me there while I was with them: But he was sway'd by a Covetous Design to enrich the Jesuitical Society; for he advis'd me, First to go Home to my Country, get my Portion

geese national university, by then under Jesuit control, had been established in 1573.

I2.In The Life of the Late Reverend Mr. George Trosse Gilling gives the Proconsul's name as Mr. Robinson, p. 9.

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in my possession, and then return and take up my Lot with them. But our Ship being ready to sail, I went aboard her to return for england; and after Two Years and Three Quarters Abode in Portugal, living in eAtheism, Ignorance, Profaneness and 'Debauchery, I left it, and sail'd for my Native Country. For many Years since, every Day upon my Knees have I been blessing & giving Thanks to a wise & gracious God, for bringing me thence, & not permitting me to live any longer there. I might, had I attain'd my Own and my Friend's `Design, have spent many more Years there, (as some do Twenty, or Thirty) and perhaps might have gotten a great `Deal of Treasure, and at Length might have return'd with a eAbundance of Wealth, and a flourishing Cilate: But then I should have liv'd without God, and againft Him; and all that Time have continually encreas'd my Filth, my Guilt and my eel?iaery, and brought Home infinitely more of Curses upon my Person, than of Coin to enrich me. I should, in that Case, have Return'd with a Heart full of Pride and Luff, and Fewel to have fed them all my Days: but blessed be God that I tarry'd not there a Day longer than I did. I would not now live there one 'Day as I then liv'd e7vlonths and Years, for all the Riches of Portugal. I now put to Sea, under Guilt and the 'Divine Wrath, fraught with filth, and so loathsome to a pure God; therefore, well might I have been afraid of committing my self to the Waves, lest, by God's jolt Vengeance, they might have drown'd my Body, and the Lake of fire and Brimilone have overwhelm'd my Soul. But I had then no Thought of God or my Soul, of Heaven or Hell; but, without the leaft Supplication to God, for the Pardon of the Sins of my wicked Life there, or for a safe Conveyance to my own Country, I went to Sea, where we met with great Winds and stormy Weather, and were exceedingly roll'd and toss'd upon the Waves; which, one would have thought, should have ftartled and scar'd me; should have excited some serious Rgfleclions upon my paff Lewdnesses and Follies, and have made me conclude my self to have been the Jonah in the Ship, and the

eMr. g8O. TROSSE Cause of the Tempest; but I was more fIiritually asleep than Jonah was corporally. All those Rollings and Tossings of the Ship made no Impression upon me, did not excite in me the teat eApprebension of my Danger; I was not at all afraid of being drown'd, or damn'd: But remain'd senseless and unconcern'd as to my future Condition in the other World. They usually say, That the Sea will make eden pray; I suppose it's meant of such as are in a Storm: Yet had it not this Effect upon me. Tho' my Danger was great, yet I never offer'd to God a 'equeft, either to protefi me, or to put a Period to the raging Tempeft. But tho' the Winds were violent, yet they were not against us, and so help'd to carry us with the greater Speed over the mighty Waters : In so much, that in Six Days (as I remember) we arriv'd from Lisbon at the English Shore. We were bound directly for London, (where I long'd to be, to recover my Moneys from the unfaithful Faaor who had wrong'd me, as I thought, and that I might in a way of revenge publish his Knavery) but were, by Stress of Weather, forc'd into Plymouth Harbour. Thus again the Providence of God brought me safely to my own Country; from a Foreign N tion into Immanuels Land; from eAntichriftian Territories to a Land, where the go. el is printed in our own Language, and Orthodoxly preach'd: Where God alone is the Object of Worship, and the Lord Chrift apply'd to as the only e7llediator; and where we are plainly directed in the fray to Heaven. Here the having a Bible in our own Tongue, will not expose us to the Cruelty of the Inquisition, tho' it will there. There their Sermons are mo tly Discourses about the ridiculous Stories of their Saints. The Doctrines of the gofpel are seldom taught; or if at any Time they are so, they are adulterated with Superilitious Fancies. There Saints, Images, Bread and Wine, dead e7lens (or dead Beafts) Bones are religiously worshipped, and that oftner than god Himself. They Pray more to, and repose more Confidence in, eAngels and Saints, especially the Virgin eWlary, for eAcceptance and Prevalence with God, than they pray to and trufi in the Lord Jesus Chrifi: So that

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i 3. He has disembarked at Plymouth in Devon, a major English port about forty miles west of Exeter.

68

Souls are there in a great Deal of 'Danger of eternal Perdition: But here we live in a Land where we have a clear Light, and far greater Advantages for our Souls. Now, a `Rturn to so good a Country as this, and a 'Departure from such a ration of Idolaters, justly calls for the deepen Sense of the 'Divine Goodness, and the high& Gratitude: But I was nothing affected with this Mercy, made no .`Returns suitable to so great a Blessing; but presently, upon my Landing, fell to the 7Zepeating of my former Sensualities, and drank to excess. I arriv'd on a Saturday, so that I made a very bad Preparation for the Lord's-Day. This Sabbath was the fir it which for almost Three Years I had any Opportunity of attending the Publick Worship of God upon. On this `Day I was exceedingly prophane, as heretofore I had been. True it is, I went to the Church, heard a Sermon, presented my Body; but neither by a Thought in my e7l?ind, nor by a Billet in the Congregation, did I make any eAcknowledgement to God of his granting me a safe eArrival. Nay, as I remember, even upon that Sacred Day, I indulg'd to Intemperance; and every Day, during my Stay in Plymouth, I was more like a drunken Swine than a rational Creature, or a thankful Protetlant. I 3 For the next Day, (the ell tonday) meeting with an Horse, which was to be sent from thence to Exeter, I was intrusted with it, as a Conveniency for it's Return, and my better Accommodation. I resolv'd to go early in the Morning, that I might be at home betimes; but yet, before I mounted my Horse I was perfettly drunk, and knew not what I did, or where I went. When I was a little Wray out of the Town, I fell from my Horse, and lay (as I was told) dead drunk. I was hereupon taken up, and carried into an Inn, or cAle-Hotta, and there put to Bed, where I lay 'till the next Morning. Had not God wonderfully preserv'd me, I should have broken my Neck, or some Bone, or have dash'd out my Brains; for I had not the exercise of my `Reason left me, to prevent even the greateft `Dangers; but e kfadness and Rashness enough to run upon all. The next Day, I took Horse again, and, by God's gracious

e)14-r. geo. TROS S C and wonderful Providence, was safely convey'd to Exeter, the Place of my Nativity; where for several Years (about Five or Six) I liv'd as wickedly as ever: Nay, as R anon & Bodily Strength, and other Advantages to Lt&, such as e7vfoney, Credit, vain Companions, &c. increas'd; so did my Crimes too. All these Years I liv'd in so conftant a Breach of all God's Commands, as if I had learnt the Words of them only to contradict them. In a Contradi&ion to thejirft Commandment, I liv'd in perfe& Ignorance, destitute of the Knowledge of God, of His eAttributes, His Subsiflences, and His Holy Will: Of theLord ChriEt, His Person, His Nature, His Offices, and His States: Of the Holy ghoft, His Personals y, His e2friotions, Operations, graces and Comforts. I had not any considerable Notional Apprehension of these Things, and so did not own God as the Only True god, and Our god. I was perfe&ly destitute of all Love to Him, and no eApprehension of the Infinite eAltraltives in Himself, or of the e 'fotives to our Love of Him, arising from His kind Providence, His gracious Word, His free and engaging Bounty: Nay, I was fraught with a Hatred of Him, which tho' I could not formally exert, because I had no Thoughts of Him, yet in effect I hated Him, because I lov'd those Persons, those Lusts, and those Pra&ices, which God abhors; and hated such Persons and Things as He is pleas'd with and delights in. I had no Fear of God before mine Eyes; did not at all dread to offend Him; for I apprehended Nothing terrible in Him; I saw no Discovery of His Terrours, either by His Word or His Works; but liv'd in carnal Securiy and a ftupid Insensibility. Tho' I provok'd Him every Moment to cast me into the bottomless Pit, yet was I not afraid of any Judgment, or the least Evil of Punishment. Remember, this is to be under food of that Tart of my Life I liv'd before I fell under dreadful Convi&ions and Consternations; of which I shall give you a full eAccount, when

I have ended my comparing this Period of my Life with all the Commands of god. During all this Time of my great Wickedness and Insensibiliy, I demean'd my self as tho' God took no more

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70

gQice of eille and my Ways, than I did of Him, His Holiness, His justice, and 'Power; which was indeed none at all. I had no Faith in Him, or rDependance upon Him; but liv'd in Unbelief; nothing doubting but I should be safe in those Days and Courses, which God threatens and curses. I had no Hope in Him, or expegation from Him. When I was under Affli&ion, or in Misery, I had no Expe&ation that God should deliver me, or afford me any Help. If I was in any Want, I never look'd to God for a Supply. If I had no Prospect of 'Deliverance, or cklief from the Creature, I sunk into Despair. I never made Choice of God Himself as my chief and allsufficient good in Christ. I negle&ed 'Praying to God; I never desired any positive good from Him: Nay, tho' many Times by my Sins and Vices I brought my self into great Straights and e2liseries, yet then did I not with my Soul seek to God, with the leafy sincere Desire of Deliverance. Much less did I pray for .►Jiritual good Things, such as Pardon, Wisdom, Grace, and the like. I was perfe&ly unthankful; never acknowledg'd Him to be my Benefayyor in any Thing. I never regarded Him as the efluthor of any Good I enjoy'd, or the Preventer of any Evil of which I was in Danger, or the 'Deliverer of me from any Afi&ions I at any Time lay under, tho' these had sometimes been very remarkable. I was proud, vain glorious, and sought mine own Praise and Commendation; but apprehended no Excellency or glory in Him, for which I should humble and abase my self before Him. I reverenc'd e7lIen for their Luxury and Gallantry, but pay'd no Adoration to the great god. I never repented of any of my past Wickedness, was never griev'd for any of my Follies, as Sins committed against God; never confess'd any of them, never condemn'd my self for them, nor resolv'd against them, or sought to God to forgive them. When I had done or spoken any Thing which might disgu t a sinful Companion, and so forbore the Pra&ice of some Sin for a Time, I should grieve for that, and diabolically repent of it; and

e l Æl r. Cj 6 0. TRO S S C

be reilless till all Offences were laid aside, and we return'd to our Hellish Friendship and 'Practices. I never resign'd my self to God's providential 'Di.osals, nor ever acquiesc'd in any Condition by Reason of His having plac'd me in it; but would be at my own 'Dispose, and if I was at any Time cross'd, I would fret and be impatient. I never took God for my King and Sovereign; never resign'd my Will to His Commands; nor subjected my self to His eAuthority, or purpos'd Obedience to Him. I forbore not any one e/ict of Sin out of Conscience of Duty to God, that I might not provoke Him; and perform'd not the Matter of any one Duty out of Conscience to God, that I might obey and please Him; And since I was thus a conflant Breaker of the firft Command, I was in effect a Transgressor of all the rest: But I did not only disobey the other Commands by the Breach of the Firft, but I direly violated them, either by neglecting what was enjoyn'd, or by doing what was forbidden. I sinn'd against the Second Command by a con3`tant Negle& of usal to partake of the Lord's-Supper; by secret Prayer, by a a Contempt and `Derision of the pure Worship of God and His Ordinances, as prescrib'd in His Word, without humane superadded Ceremonies: I revil'd such Worship and Worshippers. I mock'd at and scorn'd such e llinifters and People as attended that sort of Worship; and made it my Business to prejudice others against them, by all the reviling and sarcaftical Language I could invent, or utter. Tho' we had in the City Orthodox, pious and laboriousellinifters, yet I utterly refus'd to hear any of them, because they would not wear Surplices, nor Bapti