The first section of a paper delivered by the Editor at the 2011 Theological Conference.
1. Making the Apostolic Church a Model
All references in brackets are to A F Scott Pearson, Thomas Cartwright and Elizabethan Puritanism 1535 to 1603, Cambridge, 1925.
In 1534 Henry VIII declared himself the supreme head of the Church of England and crystallised the split from Rome. England now had a Church which was, at least nominally, Protestant, however far that Church might still be from the scriptural ideal. It was probably the following year, 1535, which saw the birth, in Hertfordshire, of Thomas Cartwright, whose writings were most influential in pointing the way towards what could have been a much more scriptural form of government for the English Church.
Cartwright began his studies in the University of Cambridge in 1547, when, if the traditional date for his birth is correct, he could only have been 12 years old, but this was not altogether unusual in that age. It is said that “he never used to sleep above five hours in a night, which custom he continued to his dying day” (p 5). In 1550 Cartwright became a scholar in St John’s College and, possibly in early 1551, qualified for his BA. St John’s was the College where Thomas Lever, an eloquent preacher and a staunch Protestant, became Master a year later.
It is said that the cause of the Reformation flourished in this College during Lever’s time there, and this, wrote a historian, appeared clearest “in the day of trouble”, when Lever and 24 others gave up their positions “to preserve their innocence” (p 6). This time of trouble occurred after Mary Tudor came to the throne in 1553 and brought the English Church once again under the sway of Rome. Cartwright, however, did not then leave the University – probably not till 1556. The fact that he continued so long in Cambridge suggests that his Protestantism may as yet have been none too strong.
In 1558 Queen Elizabeth ascended the throne and tried to position the Church of England exactly where it was when her father Henry VIII died. Cartwright returned to St John’s probably in 1559 and, less than a year later, became a Fellow of the College. In 1562 he became a Fellow of Trinity College and, when the Queen visited two years later, Cartwright found himself in the rather uncomfortable position of opposing the proposition up for debate before her: that God’s sovereignty supported an earthly monarchy.
In late 1565 or early 1566 Cartwright left Cambridge and crossed to Ireland to become the domestic chaplain of Adam Loftus, who was Archbishop of Armagh. (In later years Elizabeth was to express suspicions of his Puritan tendencies.) Cartwright’s appointment would have ended around the autumn of 1566, when Loftus gave up his post because of ill-health. Cartwright resumed his studies in Cambridge and in 1567 graduated BD. In December of that year, after Loftus had moved to Dublin as Archbishop, he was recommending Cartwright as his successor in Armagh. Loftus describes him as “so godly (during his abode with me in Ireland) both in life and doctrine that his absence from hence is no small grief and sorrow for all the godly and faithful here” (p 23). In spite of the glowing reference, Cartwright was not appointed. He was, however, elected a university preacher for the following academic year. His gifts were such that when he preached in St Mary’s, Cambridge, on a weekday some years later, “there was a great confluence of all sorts to hear him; grave men ran like boys in the streets to get places in the church” (p 24).
If Cartwright had been seeking worldly advancement he would have been extremely pleased with his appointment in 1569 as Lady Margaret Professor of Divinity in Cambridge; it was to be the most significant position he ever attained. Yet what he did with it was to seize the opportunity of promoting a more scriptural state of affairs in the English Church. Had he been a man who was focused on the advancement of his career, it would have been a huge miscalculation. But clearly what he most had in view was the glory of God.
He began his teaching with a series of lectures on the first two chapters of the Acts of the Apostles. In the course of his exposition he dealt with important points related to Church order and government. His later writings suggest that he would have used Acts 1 to show, for example, that congregations should have a role in the election of their ministers, who must be fit to teach and ought to be examined as to their fitness for office before being ordained. Such points inevitably drew attention to significant defects in the existing arrangements in the Church of England. Many of its ministers were unable to preach, for instance; they were not elected by congregations but appointed by bishops. As A F Scott Pearson points out, Cartwright “read Presbyterianism in the constitution of the early Christian Church” and “proclaimed that the Apostolic Church was the model for all time. He could not consistently approve of what, in his opinion, was the only allowable system, without condemning that which subverted it. . . . If Cartwright was right, the organisation of the Church of England must be radically altered and the existing hierarchy must go” (p 26).
Cartwright’s lectures caused a sensation; he was eloquent and scholarly and his subject matter had a whiff of novelty about it. Many came to listen and some were powerfully influenced. But men in positions of authority were concerned. Among them was William Chaderton, the previous occupant of Cartwright’s chair. In June 1570 he was writing to William Cecil, Elizabeth’s foremost adviser for much of her reign and Chancellor of Cambridge University. “One Mr Cartwright”, Chaderton complained, “lately chosen into my place, reader of the divinity lecture founded by Lady Margaret . . . does now in his daily lectures teach such doctrine as is pernicious and not tolerable in a Christian Commonwealth”. He objected in particular to Cartwright’s comments on the choosing of ministers and bishops and described him and two others as attempting “to overturn and overthrow all ecclesiastical and civil government as now is, and to ordain and institute a new-found policy”. This was typical of the civil and ecclesiastical authorities’ reaction to Puritan attempts to reform the existing church situation and even their discussion of more scriptural proposals.
Cartwright was to draw up a summary of his ideas in response to an investigation by the Vice-Chancellor of the University. They have been summed up as follows: “The names and offices of archbishops and bishops should be abolished. In their stead the offices of bishops and deacons, as described in the New Testament, should be established. The bishop should have a purely spiritual function and the deacon should care for the poor. . . . Each minister should be attached to a definite congregation. No one should, like a candidate, seek the office of the minister and none should be created ministers by the authority of bishops, which should be elected by a church. All should promote this reformation according to their several vocations – that is, the magistrate by his authority, the minister by preaching, and all by their prayers” (p 29).
Also, Cartwright maintained, the government of the Church should not have been entrusted to officials acting on behalf of bishops and archdeacons who, says twentieth-century historian Professor Patrick Collinson, “were more often than not laymen, civil lawyers whose attitude can be described without prejudice as professional rather than evangelical and pastoral”; Collinson, The Elizabethan Puritan Movement, Clarendon Press 1991 reprint, p 38. instead the administration of discipline should have been placed in the hands of the minister and the presbytery. Effectively, Cartwright was calling for the abolition of Episcopacy and for it to be replaced by Presbyterianism, and he was doing so on the basis of his study, in the Acts of the Apostles, of the early Church.
In response to Chaderton’s letter, Cecil indicated that he would support any efforts to put down disorderly preaching and teaching. The first such effort resulted in Cartwright being refused the degree of Doctor of Divinity. Soon, however, 18 of his supporters, mostly Fellows of Cambridge Colleges, sent to Cecil a testimonial in favour of Cartwright. His character, they insisted, was beyond reproach; he was a strong bulwark against “Romish adulteration and the cult of novelty”; he was entirely scriptural; he was highly proficient in Greek, Latin and Hebrew; his lectures were tremendously popular (p 31).
They particularly pointed to the opinion of foreign scholars who lived in exile in England and regarded Cartwright as on a level with well-known Continental scholars.
Cecil assumed that Cartwright had only dealt with the disputed matters as part of an academic discussion but, as Chancellor, charged him for the time being “not to deal any further in these kind of questions in his readings [of his lectures] or sermons, or any other wise” (p 35). But he left the final decision to the Vice-Chancellor and the College heads. It was August, and most of them were away, but three of them decided, as they reported to Cecil, that it was appropriate to suspend Cartwright from lecturing. Among them was John Whitgift, another previous holder of Cartwright’s present position, a future Archbishop of Canterbury and a lifelong opponent of the Puritans.
This decision resulted in a letter from 22 members of the University in support of Cartwright, pointing out how much they missed his teaching and pleading that they might have the benefit of it again. Two months later Adam Loftus wrote from Dublin to ask Cecil to show his “honourable loving favour to my dear friend, Mr Cartwright of Cambridge, a man both for his profound learning and sincere and godly life right worthy to be . . . much esteemed. . . . I, having had good experience of him . . . do verily believe that he will prove a rare and a singular ornament to the church and realm of England” (pp 36,37). Cartwright himself informed Cecil that the content of his lectures was not merely academic, but that he strongly believed in reforming Church government along the lines laid down by the Apostles. He emphasised that the case he was making was not a novelty; it was 1570 years old. He was prepared to accept Cecil’s demand, that he should omit controversial matter from his lectures but, he pointed out, the College heads would not permit him to lecture at all.
While proceedings against Cartwright were in process, new statutes came into effect in the University of Cambridge which made it easier to get rid of the troublesome Professor and his Presbyterian views. Soon afterwards Whitgift was made Vice-Chancellor of the University, and on 11 December 1570 Cartwright appeared before a panel headed by the new Vice-Chancellor and, when he refused to change his views, he was duly dismissed from his chair.
By June of the next year, Cartwright was in Geneva. He was appointed to teach theology, under Theodore Beza, to the students of the Geneva Academy, which had been founded by John Calvin. However, in July there was a severe outbreak of the plague and by September part of the school had to be closed down for a time. Even in the spring of 1572 Beza was complaining to John Knox that the city was no longer as the Scottish Reformer had known it, referring particularly to the empty benches in the Academy.
Cartwright’s lectures were appreciated in Geneva also, and in that Presbyterian city he did not have to face opposition. But an avalanche of letters descended on him from his fellow Puritans in England pleading with him to return home, presumably to give leadership to the Puritan movement. Before he left, Cartwright sought permission, successfully, to attend a meeting of the local consistory, wishing to gain a modicum of practical experience of the Presbyterian system; up till then his knowledge had been entirely theoretical. It is interesting to note that, at this time, Andrew Melville also, soon to become a noted Presbyterian leader in Scotland, was teaching in Geneva. Cartwright set off for England in February 1572.