Imagine, imagine for a moment that you're at
your job. Okay. And you decide to speak your
mind about how things are being run. Right, which
is always risky. Exactly. And boom, you were
immediately suspended. Oh, wow. Not just a slap
on the wrist, either. You were completely stripped
of your duties, your title, everything. That
is brutal. Right. But then, instead of just packing
up your desk and, you know, fading into obscurity,
the national government itself steps in. Wait,
the government? The national government. They
step in. They give you your job back. They actually
mandate that your controversial ideas be published.
That's incredible. And then they proceed to promote
you. to the absolute pinnacle of your field.
So you're just sitting at the top of the world.
Exactly. You're untouchable. Until a few years
later, a completely new government comes into
power. Ah, I see where this is going. Yep. And
they strip it all away from you all over again.
I mean, that sounds like the plot of a modern
corporate thriller or maybe some tense political
drama. It really does. But this is actually a
true story from centuries ago. It is. Welcome
to the deep dive. Today we're immersing ourselves
in a really fascinating stack of historical sources.
Specifically, we're looking at detailed biographical
records about a man named Henry Wilkinson. Right.
He was an English clergyman who lived from 1610
to 1675. And our mission today is to look at
these records and see what they tell us about
resilience. Resilience, the nature of power,
and standing your ground. Exactly. Because our
goal here isn't just to recite a dry chronological
biography of a 17th century clergyman. No, nobody
wants that. Right. We want to use Henry Wilkinson's
wildly fluctuating resume to truly understand
the chaotic whiplash of 17th century England.
It was a very turbulent time. Very. This is a
story that walks us right through the Commonwealth
period and straight into the Restoration. Which
shows us exactly how quickly the ground could
shift beneath someone's feet. Oh, absolutely.
So for you. If you have ever felt like you were
at the mercy of shifting corporate or political
winds. Or if you've ever felt like the rules
of the game were changing faster than you could
possibly keep up with. Yeah, Wilkinson's story
of absolute survival is gonna deeply resonate.
Okay, let's unpack this. Let's start at the very
beginning of his academic journey, because the
records immediately hit us with a, well, a rather
unusual timeline. They really do. He matriculates
at Magdalen Hall, Oxford on February 14th, 1623.
Right, and I'm looking at the dates here and
doing the math. It feels almost like a misprint.
It's quite shock. Because he was born in 1610,
so that means he was 12 years old when he went
to Oxford. 12 years old, yes. Hold on, was that
standard for the 1620s, or was he just a massive
outlier? It was exceptionally young, even for
the 17th century. Okay, so it wasn't the norm.
Not at all. I mean, universities back then did
admit younger students than we see today, often
teenagers, but 12 is still strictly prodigy territory.
That's wild. And he wasn't just sent there to
sit in the back of the room and grow up, either.
He progressed at a phenomenal rate. So he's essentially
a verified child genius. Basically, yes. He gets
his Bachelor of Arts in November 1626. Making
him just 16. 16. And then he grabs his master
of arts in June 1629 at 19. Barely an adult.
And he secures his bachelor divinity by November
1638. So he essentially grows up entirely within
the academic and religious ecosystem of Oxford.
Right. By his late 20s, he is deeply embedded
in that world. He's a fixture there. Exactly.
He's preaching in and about Oxford, building
a life, establishing a formidable reputation
within the institution. Which brings us to the
inciting incident of his entire life story. The
big pivot point. Yes. It happens on a very specific
day, September 6, 1640. A crucial date. Wilkinson
is preaching a sermon at St. Mary's. And instead
of delivering a safe, conventional message. Which
he easily could have done. Right. Instead of
that. He goes on the offensive. He preaches a
sermon actively attacking some of the established
ceremonies of the church. What exactly is the
big deal here? I mean, why would attacking church
ceremonies cause such a massive uproar? Well,
if we connect this to the bigger picture, we
really have to understand the stakes of what
he was doing. In 1640, the religious and political
tensions in England were at an absolute boiling
point. leading right up to the English Civil
War. Exactly. The ceremonies he was attacking
weren't just aesthetic choices. They weren't
just about how the service looked. No. They represented
the core authority of the Church of England and
the King himself. Oh, wow. So speaking out against
them was incredibly risky. It was essentially
putting a giant target on your own back. Because
you're challenging the very fabric of the establishment.
Precisely. As an impartial observer looking back,
You can see how precarious this was. He was stepping
into a highly charged political minefield. And
the establishment did not hesitate to hit that
target. Not at all. The punishment was immediate
and devastating. The records say Wilkinson was
suspended from his divinity lecture and from
all his priestly functions in the university.
They shut him down completely. And they gave
him a clear ultimatum. He would remain suspended
until he agreed to recant. They wanted a public
retraction. They wanted him to admit he was wrong,
to bow to the established authority. Which is
such a classic institutional move. It really
is. It's fascinating to see how institutional
power operates during these ideological conflicts.
The first instinct is almost always to isolate
the dissenting voice and demand absolute submission.
The Henry Wilkinson does not submit. No, he does
not. Instead of apologizing, instead of backing
down to save his hard -earned career at Oxford,
he doubles down. He goes all in. He takes his
case over the heads of the university authorities
and appeals directly to the long parliament.
A huge risk. Now, I hear that term a lot in English
history. What exactly makes it the Long Parliament,
and why would he bypass his bosses to go to them?
It's a very crucial move. The Long Parliament
was convened by King Charles I in 1640, but it
quickly became radically opposed to the King's
absolute power. Right. It's called long because
it actually passed an act stating it could not
be dissolved without its own members agreement.
Ah, so they locked themselves in. Exactly. Meaning
it sat for years and years fundamentally altering
the balance of power in England. So by appealing
to them, Wilkinson is aligning himself with the
rising political force. Yes, a force that is
actively challenging the traditional establishment
that just suspended him. And it is a massive
gamble. It's huge. But it pays off in a way that
is almost hard to believe. Here's where it gets
really interesting. It does. By December 1640,
just a few months after his devastating suspension,
he achieves total vindication. Complete turnaround.
The committee of religion of that parliamentary
body completely restores him. But they don't
stop there. No. They don't just quietly slide
him his job back and tell him to keep his head
down. They actively order his controversial sermon
to be printed. It is the ultimate endorsement.
The very words that got him exiled are now being
mass produced and validated by the national government.
It's an incredible flex. It is. And this moment
kicks off a meteoric rise to power during the
Commonwealth period. That's the era after the
Civil War, right? Right. When England was a republic
without a king governed essentially by parliament.
So he just rides that wave. He moves to London.
He is appointed minister of St. Faith's under
St. Paul's. A very prominent spot. Then he's
chosen to be a member of the Westminster Assembly.
Which was a massive, highly influential council
of theologians appointed to restructure the Church
of England. So he's right in the room where it
happens. He is suddenly operating at the very
center of religious influence in the entire country.
And the promotions just keep rolling in. In 1645,
he becomes the rector of St. Dunstan's in the
East. Another step up. And then, in 1646, the
story comes full circle. The long parliament
dispatches him back to Oxford. The triumphant
return. He returns as one of six preachers sent
by the parliament. He has chosen a senior fellow
of Magdalen, and he is deputed as a parliamentary
visitor. Just think about the psychology of that
return. It must have been staggering. The man
who was suspended and kicked out of his priestly
functions in Oxford is now walking back through
those gates as a supreme authority figure. Backed
by the full weight of the national parliament.
Exactly. And it gets even more pronounced. In
April 1648, he is appointed canon of Christchurch.
Right. And he gets this position. upon the expulsion
of a Dr. Thomas Isles. He literally takes the
seat of someone who is pushed out. Then he has
created a Dr. Divinity in 1649 and elected Lady
Margaret Professor Divinity in 1652. Which is
a massive deal. He holds that highly prestigious
office for a decade until 1662. And within that
decade of immense power, we hit an event in 1654
that requires us to pause and look at this critically.
Oh, definitely. Wilkinson serves on a commission
in Oxfordshire. and the stated purpose of this
commission, ejecting scandalous ministers. Wow.
You just cannot write a better or more ironic
plot twist. You really can't. The man who was
penalized, suspended, and pressured to recant
his own beliefs just 14 years earlier is now
sitting on a commission deciding which other
ministers should be ejected from their posts.
We can praise his resilience, but we also have
to look at the massive irony here. We do. It's
striking. The moment he gets power, he uses the
exact same institutional tools of discipline
to punish ideological opponents that were used
against him. The outsider becomes the ultimate
insider. The punish becomes the punisher. It's
a perfect encapsulation of how cyclical political
purges can be. When the oppressed become the
oppressors, they often utilize the same bureaucratic
machinery. Impartially speaking, it's a very
common historical pattern. It really is a profound
lesson in how human nature handles power. Absolutely.
Now, I want to take a brief detour from the heavy
political maneuvering. OK, let's do it. Because
the historical records give us some wonderful
insights into his family tree that group these
larger than life figures into recognizable everyday
dynamics. Yes, the records provide this incredible
picture of 17th century academic dynasties. And
it starts with a rather practical workplace problem
they faced at Oxford. Exactly. Henry Wilkinson
becomes a huge figure at Oxford, but there was
a slight issue. He wasn't the only one. He wasn't
the only Henry Wilkinson walking around campus.
There was another prominent Henry Wilkinson,
born a few years later in 1616. So what did they
do? Well, to distinguish between the two in the
dining halls or in meetings, our Henry Wilkinson,
the Lady Margaret Professor, was known around
Oxford as Long Harry, or sometimes just Senior.
Long Harry? And the other Henry was known as
Dean Harry. It's such a relatable detail. It
completely bridges the gap between this dusty
formal history and the reality of everyday human
life. It really does. They were just colleagues
trying to figure out which Henry someone was
writing to about a committee meeting. Oh, you
mean Long Harry, not Dean Harry. I love it. It's
great. And Long Harry came from quite the impressive
lineage himself. He was born on March 4, 1610
in Waddesdon, Buckinghamshire. Right. And his
father... Also named Henry Wilkinson, referred
to as the Elder. Another Henry. Another Henry.
He was a heavy hitter in his own right. Yes.
His father wasn't just a casual local clergyman.
He was deeply entrenched in the religious debates
of his day. Very active. He was an elected fellow
of Merton College Oxford back in 1586. Wow. He
served as the rector of Waddesdon for over four
decades, from 1601 until his death in 1647. He
was even chosen as one of the Westminster divines
in 1643. So the apple doesn't fall far from the
tree. Not at all. The Elder Henry was also a
published author. He wrote a book called A Catechism,
which was so popular, went to a fourth edition
in London by 1637. That's a bestseller for the
time. And he wrote another work called The Debt
Book in 1625. So R. Henry, Long Harry. essentially
grew up in the epicenter of theological scholarship.
And it wasn't just his father's side that had
influence. His mother was Sarah, the daughter
of Arthur Wake, and she was the sister of Sir
Isaac Wake, who is a prominent diplomat. OK,
so very well connected. Extremely. This is a
large influential family. Longhair was one of
nine children, actually, six sons and three daughters.
And he goes on to build a family of his own.
The historian Anthony A. Wood notes that Henry
married, and he uses this very specific slightly
dramatic phrasing. What does he say? He says
he married a woman called the Lady Carr. A wonderfully
mysterious phrasing. Right, but we do know from
his will that they had three children of their
own, one son and two daughters. These small domestic
details, the nicknames, the sprawling siblings,
the marriage, they really help you as the listener
picture a real person living through all this
massive historical turmoil. Definitely. It wasn't
just abstract political chess. He was raising
kids and dealing with workplace name confusion
while navigating a civil war. Which makes the
final act of his life all the more striking.
because it brings a massive swing of the pendulum.
It does. As we noted, power never stays static.
No, it doesn't. The Commonwealth period eventually
ends, and we enter the era known as the Restoration.
Right, the Restoration in the 1660s. For anyone
a bit rusty on their 17th century English history,
What exactly is being restored here? The monarchy.
The king is back. After years of England being
a republic under parliamentary and military rule,
King Charles II is invited back to take the throne.
So the monarchy, the traditional Church of England,
the old establishment, it all comes rushing back
into power. And that changes absolutely everything
for Henry Wilkinson. Overnight. The absolute
peak of his career, his decade -long run as the
Lady Margaret Professor of Divinity. It comes
to a crashing halt. It's gone. When the restoration
hits, the new king's commissioners don't waste
any time. In 1662, they completely eject him
from his professorship. The national backing
he once enjoyed from the long parliament is just
gone. Evaporated. He is forced to leave Oxford
entirely. The institution he grew up in where
he was a child prodigy, where he reigned as a
supreme authority. It completely shuts him out.
Yes. He loses the professorship. He loses Oxford.
But what is so incredible is that he does not
retire. No, he doesn't. He doesn't go quietly
into the country to live out his days in peace.
He adapts and he keeps going. What's fascinating
here is his absolute refusal to quit. Yeah. He
transitions into becoming a non -conformist preacher.
Meaning what exactly? That meant he was preaching
outside the rules and structures of the newly
restored Church of England. Oh, risky again.
Very. He moves around London, preaching first
at All Hallows and Lombard Street and afterwards
at Clapham. But this isn't the comfortable institutional
preaching he did as a canon of Christ Church.
Not at all. This is dangerous underground work.
And we get a terrifying glimpse into this reality
in August 1665. Yes, there's a record of a conventicle.
A conventicle? A conventicle was an unauthorized,
non -conformist religious meeting. They were
illegal. Right. And in August 1665, a conventical
of 60 or more persons to whom Wilkinson was preaching
was actively raided and broken up at Camberwell.
Imagine the scene and the psychological toll.
It must have been intense. You were a man in
your mid fifties. You used to be the Lady Margaret
Professor of Divinity. You used to be on the
governmental commission deciding who could preach.
You were the law. And now you are holding a secret
illegal meeting with 60 people and the authorities
raid the place to shut you down. The sheer stress
of that shift in status is profound. But again,
he persists. He operates in the shadows for years.
And eventually, he finds a loophole, or at least
a temporary reprieve. Yes, in April 1672. After
the Indulgence, he officially takes out a license.
Wait, the Indulgence. Was the government suddenly
feeling forgiving? What was that? It refers to
the Royal Declaration of Indulgence in 1672.
King Charles II basically issued a declaration
that temporarily suspended the penal laws against
non -conformists and religious dissenters. Oh,
okay. It was a brief window where people like
Wilkinson could legally register to practice
their faith outside the Church of England. And
he jumps right on that. Immediately. On April
6, 1672, he takes out a license for his house
or the schoolhouse at Clapham to be a Presbyterian
meeting house. Think about that trajectory. It's
a long way down. He has gone from the grand chapels
of Oxford and St. Paul's Cathedral to holding
licensed meetings in a schoolhouse in Clapham.
It is a massive reduction in prestige, but it
allows him to continue his calling. He risks
arrest. He faces being raided by authorities
just to keep doing what he fundamentally believes
he must do. It is a profound demonstration of
holding your ground. He remained a well -known
preacher around London right up until the end.
He died on June 5, 1675, either at Deptford or
Putney. And even in death, though, the records
show us the massive respect he still commanded.
Despite everything. Despite having been pushed
to the margins by the King's commissioners years
earlier. This final detail really got me. When
he died, his body was conducted by many hundreds
of persons to Draper's Hall. Hundreds of people.
And from there to its burial in St. Dunstan's
Church, hundreds of people turned out to honor
an outsider. And his legacy outlived him in print
as well. Some of his sermons were published in
Samuel Ansley's morning exercise in 1661 and
in its supplement in 1674. So his words survived.
His words, much like that highly controversial
sermon back in 1640 that started it all, found
a way to survive the shifting political tides.
So what does this all mean? When we look at the
life of Henry Long Harry Wilkinson, I think the
key takeaway for you listening is this. Titles
are fleeting. Institutional backing is temporary.
Societal favor can vanish overnight with a change
in management, a new government, or a shift in
the cultural winds. But personal conviction remains.
Yes. Wilkinson was the ultimate insider, and
he was the ultimate outsider. But throughout
all of it, whether he was in a cathedral or a
Clatham schoolhouse, he never stopped preaching
his core beliefs. It really is a story of incredible
endurance. And this raises an important question,
a final provocative thought for you to ponder
as we wrap up this deep dive. Let's hear it.
Wilkinson was punished, elevated to supreme power,
and then completely stripped of everything again,
essentially for holding the exact same core beliefs
throughout his life. Yeah. If the societal or
professional winds completely shifted against
you tomorrow, what are the core beliefs you would
be willing to be ejected for? That's a tough
one. And more importantly, would you have the
grit to start all over again, speaking your mind
in a schoolhouse? A brilliant question to leave
off on. Thank you for joining us as we explore
the incredible, turbulent life of Henry Wilkinson.
Keep digging, keep questioning, and we will see
you on the next Deep Dive.