Ecclesiastical History of England, by John Stoughton

It will be found that in this Volume I have assigned a large space to the attempt at Comprehension in the year 1689—as it is a subject of present interest, and because the proceedings connected with it have been but inadequately described. An examination of the Bill introduced for the purpose to the House of Lords—a comparison of the Journals of both Houses, whence it appears that another Bill of the same kind was contemporaneously proposed in the House of Commons—the report of the proceedings of the Commissioners in 1689, published by order of the House of Commons in 1854—and a curious Diary preserved in Dr. Williams’ Library—together with other original sources of information, have enabled me to present a fuller, and, I hope, more accurate, account of that important but ineffective transaction than has hitherto appeared. As I believe the Lords’ Bill has never been printed, I have arranged for its insertion in the Appendix.

A large collection of Tracts in Dr. Williams’ Library, besides those in the British Museum and University Libraries—the Tanner MSS. at Oxford—the Strype and other collections belonging to the Sister University—and the Gibson Papers at Lambeth, have also afforded a[vi] number of new, if not important, illustrations touching the Nonjurors—the proceedings of Convocation—the Trinitarian controversies—the social life of the Clergy—and the character of the Nonconformist ministers.

I may add that in tracing the origin and progress of Religious Societies during the reign of William III., I have received most valuable assistance from the respected Secretaries of the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, and the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel, who have favoured me with interesting extracts from their earliest records.

My best thanks are also due to the Right Reverend the Bishop of Chester for a copy of the writ summoning Spiritual peers to Parliament. Sir John G. S. Lefevre, Clerk of the Parliaments, to whose usual courtesy I am indebted for a copy of the Comprehension Bill—Mr. Thoms, the Librarian of the House of Lords—the Librarians at Oxford, Cambridge, and Lambeth—the Rev. T. Hunter, librarian of Dr. Williams’ Library—and the Rev. D. Hewitt, of Exeter, have also laid me under obligations which I gratefully acknowledge.

I venture to add, that in this, as in my former volumes, I have endeavoured to maintain an honest impartiality in the estimate of characters and incidents, together with a firm attachment to my own religious and ecclesiastical principles. My aim throughout has been to promote the cause of truth and charity among Christian Englishmen.

William Henry, Prince of Orange, was a member of the House of Nassau—the antiquity of which is traced by some historians as far back as the days of Julius Cæsar. Others are content to stop at Count Otho, in the 12th century, whom they regard as founder of the family, because, through his wife, he obtained large possessions in the Low Countries. The immediate ancestors of William Henry are renowned as fathers of the Dutch Republic, and from them he inherited patriotic virtues.

He was born in Holland on the 14th of November, 1650—the posthumous son of William II., who had in 1641 married Mary, the eldest daughter of Charles I. of England. He created the fondest hopes, and medals were struck to commemorate his auspicious birth. “Though the orange-tree be fallen down,” so ran the Dutch legend in allusion to his father’s death, “this noble sprig has been preserved, by Divine care, in the bosom of Mary. Thus the father arises after his death like a phenix in his son. May he grow, may he flourish, and in virtue excel the greatest princes, to the glory and safety of his country.” At the age of ten, the youth lost his mother, who died within her native shores in 1660, when on a[2] visit to her brother Charles. The affectionate care of his grandmother could not make up for these bereavements, and this child of sorrow had the further misfortune to be deprived of the hereditary Stadtholdership bestowed on his ancestors by the States General. With the death of his mother came the loss, for a time, of the Principality of Orange, which was unscrupulously seized by Louis XIV., who demolished the fortifications of the town.

William’s education fell into the hands of the Barneveldt party, headed by the two De Witts, who sought to break down his spirit, and refused him a range of education befitting his rank. Having been brought up in the Stadtholder’s Palace at the Hague—which then, as now, uniquely combined, in streams and woods, the quiet rusticity of a village, with the bustle and magnificence of a metropolis—he received a notice to quit his ancestral abode in his seventeenth year, and only retained the favourite residence, by declaring that nothing but force should tear him from its hearthstone.

First made Captain and Admiral-General, and then forced by public acclamation into the position of Chief Magistrate when he was but twenty-two—at a time of tremendous peril—he had to bear the yoke in his youth. Nothing indeed could have saved his dominions just then but the magnanimity inspired by memories of his country’s heroic struggles with Spain: that magnanimity he expressed in the well-known words, “There is one method which will save me from the sight of my country’s ruin: I will die in the last ditch.”

The man whom I have thus described had from infancy suffered from bad health. Asthma and consumption—likely to be increased by the damp atmosphere and[3] the unhealthy fogs which float about the Dutch dykes—rendered it necessary for him to be propped up in bed, when cruel headaches did not make repose impossible; and soon after reaching manhood, he had to endure a severe attack of that virulent disease—small-pox. Such circumstances did not improve a melancholy temperament. Not naturally unamiable, William, like his countrymen, was grave and taciturn; and amongst his original endowments we notice a judgment unaccompanied by imagination, but with a quick perception and a keen forecast, which made him sensitively alive to the responsibilities and issues of his own career. He saw himself entering a thorny road, which might conduct to prosperity or end in defeat; at any rate, he resolved it should not lead to disgrace. In such circumstances and with such a character, we are not surprised to find him pronounced cold, reserved, and phlegmatic. His lofty forehead, piercing eyes, aquiline nose, and compressed lips, indicated energy of mind and force of will; but attenuated features, delicate limbs, and feeble gait, betrayed the frailty of the framework which encased his soul.

People of his disposition at times reveal the existence of tender sensibilities. They form friendships limited in extent, but intense in degree. Nor do sallies of humour fail to sparkle in their sombre lives. William’s almost romantic love for Bentinck, who watched him in illness, is generally known. Less noticed is the Prince’s power of repartee. One day as he walked in the pleasant gardens of the Hague, the Grand Pensionary praised one of the parterres. “Yes,” replied His Highness, “this garden is very fine, but there is too much white in it.” The lilies were abundant, but the Pensionary—whose name, De Witt, meant white—perceived at once that William was thinking more of him and of his influence[4] than of the flowers smiling at his feet. Averse to fashionable amusements, he dearly loved the chase. He was, according to Sir William Temple, always in bed and asleep by ten o’clock; and he preferred a “tumbler of cold ale” to a glass of the choicest wine.[1]

The Prince paid a second visit to England in 1678, when he married his cousin, the Princess Mary—a match which, though suggested by State policy, turned out one of pure affection. It prepared the way for the part he was to play in the Revolution, and on account of that event, which, in its ecclesiastical consequences, forms a prominent subject in this volume, a glance at his early life has been deemed essential.

What most concerns us is not his military and political character, not his career as a soldier or a statesman, but his religious opinions, sympathies, and policy, and the bearing of these upon the changes wrought during his reign in the ecclesiastical affairs of our country.

William was a staunch Calvinist. “He was much possessed with the belief of absolute decrees,” and said to Burnet he adhered to them “because he did not see how the belief of Providence could be maintained upon any other supposition.”[2] Such convictions in such a man became elements of heroism, but it was thought, not perhaps without reason, that more care had been taken to impress his mind with the doctrine of Predestination, than to guard him against abuses incident to such an opinion. Yet there appears nothing fanatical in William’s religion, and whatever might be his moral conduct, it did not seem to have been connected with[5] Antinomian prejudices, or with any doubt of the obligations of Christian virtue. It is remarkable, that though in Holland, at the time of the Synod of Dort, Calvinism appeared in union with intolerance, William had no sympathy in that feeling. Toleration was a ruling idea in his mind; and he blamed the English Church for alienating itself from other communions, and for claiming infallibility in practice, though eschewing it in theory.

He had been brought up a Presbyterian, but he appears to have regarded Church government of secondary importance, and, as events proved, he could conform to Episcopacy. Indeed, it is said by Burnet—who claimed to know him well—that he, on the whole, preferred the English to the Dutch type of ecclesiastical rule.[3] The Prince had no reverence for antiquity, no æsthetic taste, no sensibility under the touch of elaborate ceremonies, or amidst the flow of harmonious music. He preferred an unritualistic worship, and distinctly disapproved of the surplice, the cross in baptism, and bowing to the altar; yet, again, we are assured that he highly esteemed the worship, as well as the polity, of the Church of England.[4]

After his marriage with the Princess Mary, he formed an acquaintance with English Divines. Dr. Hooper became chaplain to the Princess, on the recommendation of Archbishop Sancroft; and he remained in office a year and a half. The chaplain found Her Royal Highness reading works favourable to Dissenters; to counteract their tendency, he recommended works of another description. One day the Prince observed his wife with the pages of Eusebius and Hooker open on her table, when[6] he exclaimed, “I suppose Dr. Hooker persuades you to read these books?” She had at first no chapel of her own for Divine worship; at the Doctor’s request, a room was fitted up, with a communion-table elevated on steps. The Prince, as he saw them being made, rudely kicked at them, asking what they meant. Informed on the point, he answered “with a hum.” After the chapel had been fitted up, he never attended Divine service there; and as this chaplain talked about the Popish Plot and the indulgence of Dissenters in terms less favourable to the latter than His Highness liked, he bluntly said, “Well, Dr. Hooper, you will never be a Bishop;” and on another occasion remarked if he had ever “anything to do with England, Dr. Hooper should be Dr. Hooper still.”[5]

Ken succeeded Hooper in 1679; we have no particulars of his relations with William, but those relations do not seem to have been very cordial. Each of the clergymen now mentioned belonged to the High Church party, and William could not agree with either, so that the end of Ken’s connection with the Dutch Court produced satisfaction on both sides. Yet the conduct of this excellent man “gained him entire credit and high esteem with the Princess, whom to his death he distinguished by the title of his Mistress.”[6]

The sincerity and strength of William’s Protestantism was unmistakable. Protestantism had the approval of[7] his intellect, and it penetrated his soul. In him, cold as he was, it existed not merely as an opinion, but as a passion. It accompanied him into the Cabinet and the field, tincturing all his views; it pervaded all his purposes, shaped all his policy. Protestantism for Holland was his first thought, Protestantism for Europe his second; and he saw dependent upon Protestantism the political, commercial, and social prosperity of nations, scarcely less than the spiritual well-being of individuals. Roman Catholicism to his mind was identical with a violation of the law of God and an invasion of the rights of man; yet his large views of toleration embraced Roman Catholics; he would not rob any man of the liberty of conscience, but the ascendency of the Romanist system, and the tendency of its spirit, he thoroughly abhorred as one of the worst foes to the welfare of the race. France at that moment showed herself to be more violently Roman Catholic than the Pope himself, and was seeking to establish control over Europe. Therefore towards France William turned a gaze of defiance, prepared to shed the last drop of his blood in resisting her ambition. Louis XIV. stood forth as William’s personal enemy, but William’s history shows how much more he himself was swayed in this respect by reason than by resentment. At the same time he regarded Holland as one of the last defences of liberty, and desired to see England united with that country in the resistance of a common foe.

Mary responded to her husband’s sentiments. Although nurtured in a Roman Catholic atmosphere, she proved herself entirely free from Roman Catholic predilections, and indicated a preference for Low Church principles. A woman of reading, she turned her attention to the controversies of the day, and not only resisted the attempts of her father to convert her to Popery, but,[8] with all her respect for Ken, kept herself free from the ecclesiastical views which that devout man resolutely upheld.

In 1686, Gilbert Burnet accepted an invitation to the Hague, and availed himself of opportunities to support the Low Church opinions of the Prince and his Consort. The historian of his Own Times has taken posterity into his confidence, and he relates, with characteristic vanity, how he advised his illustrious friends in matters of the highest importance. But whatever may be thought of Burnet’s foibles, he appears to have judiciously counselled both husband and wife, especially the latter, and to have done much towards a wise settlement of the Crown at the Revolution. His counsels were in favour of constitutional government and of toleration; and he inculcated upon Mary that whenever she might inherit her father’s throne, she should use her influence to obtain for her husband real and permanent authority. Such advice laid the Prince, and the country of his adoption, under lasting obligations to the busy Whig Churchman.

As the peculiar relation in which this noble couple stood to this kingdom could not but interest them in English affairs, neither could it fail to attract towards them the attention of the English people. English Protestants sympathized with William in his continental policy. They disliked France almost as much as he did. The Huguenots driven to our shores were memorials before their eyes of Roman Catholic intolerance; and besides this, they knew that their own fellow countrymen naturalized in France had to suffer from the repeal of the Edict of Nantes, and that the wives and children of those so naturalized had to suffer in the same way. Moreover, they learned that dragoons were quartered upon English merchants residing in France, to prevent their[9] passing the frontiers, and to compel them to change their religion.[7] These circumstances, backed by the humiliating fact, that the Stuarts were hirelings of Louis, brought the feelings of Protestant Englishmen into sympathy with those of the Netherland Stadtholder. He, in his turn, looked with anxiety towards this country whilst suffering under the misgovernment of James II. What James was doing for Dissenters by a stretch of prerogative, William wished to see done by constitutional law. Mary took a still more lively, because a patriotic, interest in these subjects, and disapproved of her father’s despotism and Popery. For the Church of England she had a strong affection, which she expressed to Archbishop Sancroft, when congratulating him upon the firmness of the clergy in their religion as well as their loyalty.[8]

Matters in England were brought to a crisis in the month of June. Upon Trinity Sunday, the 10th of the month—two days after the imprisonment of the seven Bishops—London was thrown into frantic excitement by a report that James’s Queen had presented him with a son and heir. A Popish successor would bring upon the country those calamities of which the prospect for two reigns had filled men with dismay. The bulk of the people could not believe the fact. They declared that the Queen had not been confined at all—that she for some time had worn a cushion under her dress—that her pretended son had been conveyed into her chamber in a silver warming-pan on a Sunday morning, when Whig lords and ladies, who otherwise might have detected the cheat, were lying in bed or were gone to prayers. Stories the most absurd and disgusting were believed. At that moment anything seemed more credible than the simple[10] event which had really occurred. The news of this assumed Royal conspiracy flew over to Holland, and it created the utmost consternation, William and Mary sincerely believing what they were confidently told. At all events, the child—of whose supposititious character the idea vanished afterwards from all but the most fanatical minds—was publicly baptized in the Church of Rome, the Pope’s Nuncio standing sponsor. This added to the national exasperation, and the Whig and Protestant party immediately began to think of seeking succour from Holland, and putting an end at all hazards to the existing state of things.

William had before this become the head of the English opposition. Old Republicans and old Royalists, Anglican Churchmen who hated Rome, Latitudinarian Churchmen who loved liberty, and Evangelical Churchmen who believed in Calvinism—Presbyterians, Independents, and Baptists, the first anxious for comprehension, the second and third wishing only for freedom of worship—all had been turning their thoughts for some time to the Prince of Orange as the star of their hopes. English soldiers, English sailors, and English Divines, had publicly presented themselves in the old Gothic Binnenhof of the Hague, or held private interviews with the Dutch Governor. The Earl of Devonshire, Lord Shrewsbury, Admiral Herbert, Lord Lumley, and others, had written to His Highness, more or less explicitly, offering to devote to him their fortunes and their lives.

This went on in the spring of 1688, amidst excitements produced by the Declaration of Indulgence. Holland at the same period felt deep sympathy with England.

Dr. Edmund Calamy, grandson of the well-known Puritan, in the early part of 1688 lived as a student at[11] Utrecht, and he says there prevailed in the States a conviction that their own, and the Protestant interest in general, could be preserved only by a revolution in England, since nothing else could prevent Europe from being ingulfed in France; he adds, the Dutch were disposed to assist in making head against King James, and in relieving the people, who cried to them for succour, as they, a century before, had appealed for help to Queen Elizabeth.[9]

A decided but perilous step was taken in England on the 30th of June, the day of the Bishops’ acquittal. By a letter written amidst the excitement of that event, which shook not the English throne but him who sat on it, seven members of the Whig party invited the Prince of Orange to come over. They informed him of the prevalent dissatisfaction of the people with the Government, and of their willingness to rise in defence of their liberties, if His Highness would land with sufficient strength to put himself at the head of the Protestant party. They stated that the soldiers unequivocally manifested an aversion to the Popish religion; that they certainly would desert the Royal standard in great numbers; and that not one out of ten in the navy could be trusted in case of an invasion. They promised to attend on His Highness as soon as he should land; and they commissioned a confidential messenger to consult with him about artillery and ammunition. This act of daring treason, or of triumphant patriotism—whichever the issue might determine it to be—decidedly turned the scales which quivered between further[12] delay and immediate action. The “immortal seven,” as they have been called, who signed in cypher, were Shrewsbury, Devonshire, Danby, Lumley, Russel, Sydney, and Compton, Bishop of London.[10] The conspirators—perfect in number like the Bishops, now at the moment of their acquittal and ovation—thus cast the die which might bring death, which did bring freedom. The adhesion of Compton to this scheme is what most concerns us, as it indicates the early infusion of an ecclesiastical element into this undertaking—an element which became deeper, wider, stronger, as time rolled on. In less than a month afterwards the same dignitary replied to a letter from the Prince concerning the trial of the seven Bishops, and informed him how sensible he and others were of the advantage of having so powerful a friend; that they would make no ill use of it; and that they were so well satisfied of the justness of their cause, that they would lay down their lives rather than forsake it.[11]

William must for some time have been expecting overtures. They would not find a man of so much forecast unprepared; yet not a little remained to be done that the proposed descent might prove a success. The remainder of summer and the early part of autumn were spent in secret military preparations at home, in secret diplomatical negotiations abroad. He even decoyed the Pope into his toils, by baits which did more credit to his statesmanship than to his honesty. He persuaded His Holiness to advance money for an attack, as he thought, upon France, in reality upon England. Rome, ever trying to over-reach others, was herself over-reached; and help, supposed to be rendered for the humiliation of a power then inimical to the Papal Court, came to be applied[13] to the overthrow of a Popish Sovereign and the strengthening of the cause of European Protestantism.[12]

When the military movements in Holland became generally known, they were given out to be intended for a campaign against France, in which the Prince was to receive support from the Imperial army on the Rhine; yet, whatever dust might be thrown in men’s eyes, the real truth appeared to many. Even as early as the 7th of August, news of the Prince’s intention to come over with an army reached the quiet cloisters of Westminster Abbey; and Dr. Patrick, at four o’clock in the afternoon, received at his prebendal residence tidings of the important secret through his friend, Dr. Tenison, who came “to have some private conversation.”[13] But almost up to the last hour James remained in the dark, partly through his own obtuseness, partly—and much more—through the selfish designs of France, through the treachery of courtiers, and through denials made by the Dutch Ambassador. No doubt a clear-headed man, with a sharp eye, would have caught signs of the true direction of the brewing storm; but a man like James, narrow-minded and prejudiced, might easily be duped by diplomatic arts and courtierly deceit. He persuaded himself into the belief that the rumours of a Dutch invasion of England were raised by the Court of France to promote his political interests and to bring him into closer alliance with Louis[14]—a policy at that moment appearing to him most perilous, because it would be sure to increase his unpopularity with his subjects.

His conduct after the acquittal of the Bishops proves[14] that he had not learnt wisdom from that significant event. His treatment of the lawyers, in the face of public opinion, seems incredible. He honoured with a baronetcy Williams, the Solicitor-General, who led the prosecution, and Holloway and Powell, who gave it as their opinion that the Bishops’ petition did not amount to a libel, he punished by dismissal from the Bench.

To the Judges who went their circuits in the summer, Royal instructions were communicated to the effect, that they should persuade the people to assist in supporting the unpopular Declaration for liberty of conscience, telling them that a Parliament would speedily be called to make the Sovereign’s favour statute law. Churchmen were to be assured of the fulfilment of His Majesty’s promises; and persons of all classes were to be reminded what a gracious Prince they had upon the throne. Liberty of conscience, they were to be informed, had advanced the trade, and would prove the means of increasing the population of the country. The tone was fair—the phraseology specious; but the friends of freedom were not to be hoodwinked after this fashion.

Justice Allybone, a reputed Papist, sought, at the Croydon Assizes, to give effect to these instructions, by the charge which he then delivered to the Grand Jury. After dealing in a few commonplaces as to the desirableness of living in love, and the blessings of religious liberty, and after maintaining that the King wished every one to be as free in his conscience as in his thoughts, immediately applied what he had advanced to the Sacramental Test. “Why,” he asked, “because I cannot take the Test, must I be hindered of an employment in the world? This, gentlemen, pincheth sore with them in liberal education. It is said, ‘Upon this Rock will I build my Church.’ Was this meant of the Church of[15] England?—it was but of yesterday’s standing. So, gentlemen, ’tis but a flourish. Gentlemen, the end of the Test is not religion, but preferment; if any one therefore should be hindered upon just pretences for religion, then religion is not at the bottom of it. This, gentlemen, is a matter of great importance. It is in the Catechism that Christ is really in the Lord’s Supper; nor hath it been objected against the Church of Rome, by the Church of England, that He was not really, but by way of presentation, and that is a great reproach. Christ Himself told us He was there; now, be you not more strict than Christ Himself. I am not arguing what my sense is, but I am only showing, that as the Church of England would impose, that Christ was by way of presentation, is it not equally difficult that we shall believe thus and thus? Is not the like liberty to be had and taken of one side, as well as the other? Gentlemen, I only argue this for the incoherence of the thing.” The meaning which the Croydon Grand Jury might gather from this wretched rabble of words would be, that the Judge put in a plea for the toleration of Catholics—a plea which, however just, wore at that crisis a suspicious aspect, and could find no favour with the Surrey squires. Allybone finished by remarking that he would not have the world mistaken about the Bishops’ trial—it was not for religion they were tried, “they were tried for acting against the Government, for publishing a libel which tended to sedition. The King,” he said, “commands them with the advice of his Council for to publish his Declaration; they would not do it. If the King had been Turk or Jew, it had been all one—for the subject ought to obey.”[15] The infatuation of the Judge equalled the infatuation of the King.

Of course the effect was to identify the Judges with unconstitutional indulgence. Where it had been successful, they were welcomed—where it had created alarm, they were rebuffed.

Down in the West, the Declaration had been published by some—by others denounced. The wearers of the ermine were treated accordingly. Trelawny, one of the seven Bishops, wrote to Sancroft, at the time of the Assizes, a letter which gives us some idea of what was going on at Bristol and Exeter:—

The Bishop of Exeter was Dr. Lamplugh, and how he was rewarded for his devotion to the measures of the Court will presently appear.

James’s proceedings in reference to the Church at this time were in keeping with the rest of his conduct. He[18] issued an order, requiring Chancellors of Dioceses and Archdeacons to report to the High Commission the names of those who had not published the Declaration. This went too far even for his friends. Sprat, Bishop of Rochester, immediately resigned his seat, and the rest of the Commissioners becoming alarmed, as well they might, hesitated to proceed with the odious investigation. In the same month of July, James sent a mandate to Oxford for the election of Jeffreys to the Chancellorship; a disgrace which the authorities of the Universities prevented by stealing a march on the Monarch, and electing a Chancellor before the mandate arrived. On the 13th of August the King exercised anew his dispensing power, by charging the Wardens and Fellows of All Souls, Oxford, to admit John Cartwright to the Vicarage of Barking, notwithstanding any custom or constitution to the contrary.[18] Next, on the 23rd, he nominated to the Bishopric of Oxford, Timothy Hall, who had gained notoriety by reading the Declaration. Such persistency in an unpopular course increased national indignation; all classes became more and more weary of this galling despotism, and were goaded on to hasten the King’s downfall.

Whilst such were the proceedings of the temporal head of the Church, what was the course pursued by the Primate? Sancroft despatched admonitions to the clergy of his province, exhorting them to the zealous discharge of their duties, and concluding his appeal by recommending them to show a friendly spirit towards Nonconformists, by visiting them and receiving them kindly at their own homes, with a view to persuade them “to a full compliance with our Church.” They were to insist upon two points: that the Bishops were irreconcilable enemies to Rome, and that[19] jealousies to the contrary were altogether groundless. Finally, clergymen were invited to pray for the union of all Reformed Churches, both at home and abroad, against their common foe, and that all who confessed the name of our dear Lord, might meet in one communion and live in godly love.[19] Next—and more surprising, when we think of the Archbishop’s High Church views—he is said to have engaged in a scheme of comprehension, the design being, so far as it can be gathered from a speech made long afterwards by Dr. Wake, to amend and improve the discipline of the Church; to review and enlarge the Liturgy, by correcting some things, by adding others; and, it is stated, that he proposed, if advised by authority, to have the matter considered first in Convocation, then in Parliament.[20] This would have been to walk in steps taken by Low Churchmen some years before, and to anticipate the endeavours of the same class of Churchmen some months afterwards. When efforts had been made in that direction by Tillotson and others, the Archbishop had not showed the least disposition to help them; and on the whole it appears to me that so cautious and conservative a man as Sancroft could never have intended to go the length which the reports just noticed might indicate to ecclesiastical reformers. Indeed, Wake, when he repeated the story, took care to add that the intended changes related “to things of more ordinary composition,” whilst the doctrine, government, and worship of the Church were to remain entire. Probably the alterations contemplated by Sancroft were very slight indeed, and certainly they were conceded only in consequence of the excitement of the times.

Before the end of September, the King, being unable any longer to resist, altered his policy; he and the Archbishop came together, the former beginning at last to be frightened; the latter anxious to do what he could to save his master. On the 21st of September, a Declaration appeared, to the effect that it was the Royal purpose to provide a legal security for universal liberty of conscience, yet to preserve the Church of England in particular, and to secure the Protestant religion in general; at the same time it was indicated that Roman Catholics were to remain incapable of being members of Parliament.[21] Upon the 24th, Sancroft received a summons to attend the Royal presence, and a like command was sent to Compton, Bishop of London; Mew, of Winchester; Turner, of Ely; Lake, of Chichester; Ken, of Bath and Wells; White, of Peterborough; Trelawny, of Bristol; and Sprat, of Rochester. They were men of different mark: Compton had gone beyond any of his brethren in bold resistance of James’s policy; Mew had been a Royalist in the days of Charles I., and had fought as a soldier in his master’s service; Trelawny had won popularity by being one of the imprisoned seven, but, like other men in Church and State, he had shown a time-serving spirit.[22] Sprat distinguished himself as an accommodating mortal; the rest were High Churchmen, and supporters of the divine right of Kings.

On the day of dispatching the summons, James told Clarendon that the Dutch were coming in earnest to invade England. “And now, my Lord,” he added, “I shall see what the Church of England men will do.”[23] On the 26th, the King saw Turner, Bishop of Ely, who reported that the conversation which arose was only of a general kind. Whatever liberal sentiments might have dawned on the Royal mind, all seemed dark on the 27th, when the Lord Chancellor informed Clarendon that some rogues had changed the King’s purposes, that he would yield in nothing to the Bishops, “that the Virgin Mary was to do all.”

The first meeting between the King and the Bishops took place on Friday, September the 28th. All invited were present, except Sancroft, who excused himself on the ground of being unwell, and Compton and Trelawny, who did not reach town in time. Their brethren, however, who, like them, were in the country when the command arrived, managed to be there. The Prelates came prepared honestly to give advice; but James, no doubt under the influence mentioned by Clarendon, was very reserved, on the one hand declaring his goodwill to the Church of England, and on the other, reminding[22] his spiritual advisers of their duty to be loyal to the Crown. Ken plainly expressed his disappointment, observing that “His Majesty’s inclinations towards the Church, and their duty to him, were sufficiently understood and declared before, and would have been equally so if they had not stirred one foot out of their dioceses.”[24] As the Prelates issued from the Royal presence, the courtiers loitering about the closet door, full of curiosity as to this much-talked-of interview, inquired, “How things went?” The Bishop of Winchester—“poor man,” as Clarendon calls, him—answered, “Omnia bene.”[25] James wished to make capital for himself out of what had taken place, and immediately announced to his subjects, through the Gazette, that several of the Bishops having attended, he was pleased, amongst other gracious expressions, to let them know that he would signify his pleasure for taking off the suspension of the Bishop of London, which was done accordingly. That any such communication was made could scarcely have been gathered from the account of the audience given by others.

The same Gazette contained a Proclamation, dated September the 28th, stating, that undoubted advice had been received of a projected invasion from Holland, under false pretences relating to liberty, property, and religion, but really aiming at the conquest of the kingdom. The King declared his purpose to resist this attempt, to venture his life for the honour of the nation; and deferring at present the meeting of Parliament, he called upon his subjects to resist their enemies, and prohibited any assistance being given them on pain of high treason.[26]

The Bishops were dissatisfied with the interview of the 28th, and requested the Archbishop to procure another audience. One was appointed for Tuesday, the 2nd of October; then it was postponed until the following day. The Prelates occupied the interval in careful deliberation, and drew up a paper, in which they advised, that the management of affairs in the counties should be entrusted to qualified persons amongst the nobility and gentry; that the Ecclesiastical Commission should be annulled, dispensations terminated, the President and Fellows of Magdalen restored, licenses to Papists recalled, the Vicars Apostolical inhibited, vacant Bishoprics filled, Quo Warrantos superseded, charters restored, a Parliament called, in which, with due regard to the security of the Established Religion, liberty of conscience should be granted; and, finally, permission vouchsafed to the Bishops to attempt the re-conversion of His Majesty to the Protestant faith.

The paper containing this advice was signed by the Archbishop of Canterbury, and the Bishops of London, Winchester, Asaph, Ely, Chichester, Rochester, Bath and Wells, and Peterborough.[27]

Before the Bishops were admitted to the conference, James made another concession to popular excitement, by declaring in Council to the Aldermen of London, his intention to restore to the City the much-prized charter of which it had been deprived.

On the 3rd of October the second meeting of the Bishops with the King occurred. They presented their paper, and whatever the immediate effect of their last request might have been, they now received the assurance of a gracious consideration being given to their requests.[24] The King almost immediately afterwards extinguished the Commission, and signified his purpose of rectifying corporate abuses.[28]

Within a few days, collects were drawn up by the Bishops, to be used in all cathedral, collegiate, and parochial churches and chapels within the kingdom during this time of public danger. They received His Majesty’s approval, and were printed for general use. It is curious to observe that they are so framed as to lay all the blame of existing calamities on the shoulders of the people, and to breathe a spirit of intense loyalty to His Majesty’s person.[29]

Upon the 12th of October, the King authorized the Bishop of Winchester to settle the troubles at Magdalen College; but so suspicious had the public become in reference to the Royal sincerity, that it was currently and falsely reported immediately afterwards, that he had altered his mind, and withdrawn the order.[30]

Repeated Royal conferences could not be held without attracting attention. They became the subject of common talk, and the suspicious temper of people appeared in a rumour, that the right reverend fathers were being hoodwinked by a Popish Sovereign and his Popish Councillors. Evelyn wrote to Sancroft on the 10th of October, telling him that the calling of His Grace and the Bishops to Court, and what had been required of them, was only calculated to create jealousies and suspicions amongst well-meaning people—the whole of the plan being the work of Jesuits. He also complained that in all the Declarations published in pretended favour of the Church of England, there was not once any mention made of the Reformed or Protestant religion.[31]

In another letter, the contents of which were intended to be communicated to His Grace, serious charges are alluded to as brought against the Bishops.

“Knowing your interest in my Lord’s Grace of Canterbury,” says the writer, “you are desired to let him know that it was my fortune this week to have the sight of a most malicious libel against the most eminent Bishops of the Church of England; the extent and substance of it is to show how the Bishops mind only popularity, and to make a noise in the world. For that the Bishops themselves do dispense with the laws and canons of the Church,[26] as well as the King hath done by virtue of his prerogative. This was lent me to peruse one evening, so that I could not read it fully, but the chief thing they aim at is to show that the Bishops do dispense with non-residence, contrary to the canons of the Church and the Statute of the land, made 21 Henry VIII. 13. Some things are frivolous, and some very sharp, and I fear too true; so that I wrote out the heads on the chapter of non-residence, which is very virulent, and filled with near 300 instances of prebends and clergymen that are non-resident, contrary to the law in all counties of England; for they have a perfect account from all counties, except about eight or ten, which are promised against this term; and had not this juncture of affairs hindered, it had been fully printed in a few weeks.” After transcribing the heads, the writer proceeds: ”All these heads have several scandalous instances (that lack reformation) in many counties, and it would be happy if my good Lord of Canterbury did require a speedy reformation, and make all Ecclesiastical Judges inquire into the truth hereof, and give him a speedy account, and so prevent these just scandals, which will otherwise fall upon the Bishops of the Church of England.”[32]

The invitation to the Prince of Orange had been signed by the Bishop of London on the 30th of June. On the 2nd of November, a Declaration, bearing date the 10th of October, began to be circulated in England, the space between June and October having been spent by His Highness in making preparations for his enterprise. The document, drawn up by the Grand Pensionary of Holland, had been revised and translated by Burnet, who sat by the Prince’s elbow, and came to be described as “Champion in ordinary of the Revolution, and ready to enter the lists against all comers.”

The Declaration gave the utmost prominence to the religious question. An ecclesiastical and unconstitutional Court had been revived, which had misapplied the Church’s property, invaded her dignity, and persecuted her members. A plan had been carried out for the re-establishment of Popery in Protestant England. Monasteries, convents, Popish churches, and Jesuit colleges had sprung up in all directions, and at the Council Board one of the hated order had taken his seat. Political liberties had been violated, charters withdrawn, Parliamentary government suspended, Judges displaced for their conscientiousness, and the right of petition denied even to spiritual Lords; Ireland had been[28] given over to Papists, Scotland had been shorn of her freedom, and to crown all, the public had been deceived by the announcement of the birth of a pretended Prince. Hence the rights of the Princess of Orange had been invaded, and His Highness had undertaken an expedition “with no other view than to get a free Parliament assembled which might remedy those grievances, inquire into that birth, and secure national religion and liberty under a just and legal government for the future.” He further stated that he had been earnestly solicited by many Lords, both spiritual and temporal, by many gentlemen, and by other subjects of all ranks, to interpose.[33]

After James had made his concessions, a postscript to the Declaration was received from William. The concessions, he urged, went to prove the truth of the charges made; they arose from a consciousness of guilt; no dependence could be placed upon them; and only a Parliament could re-establish the rights of the English people.

Other documents of the same kind followed. The Prince boldly appealed to the military, reminding them how Protestant soldiers had been cashiered in Ireland, and Popish soldiers forced upon England. It would be the crime of the army, if the nation lost its liberty; the glory of the army, if the liberty of the nation was saved. Herbert wrote to the seamen, telling them their fate would be infamy, if the Prince failed of success; dismission from the service, if he succeeded.[34]

William’s Declaration alarmed James; at last he became undeceived. The webs woven by Dutch diplomacy were blown away. His confusion increased at finding he had reason to suspect Bishops as being amongst the Prince’s allies. He sent in haste to Sancroft on the 16th of October, and told him of the intention to invade England. He added, it would be a fitting thing for the Bishops to draw up a paper expressing their abhorrence of the attempt. The Primate plausibly pleaded that the Bishops had left London, and strangely declared, that he could not believe the Prince of Orange had any such design as was supposed. Matters were allowed to rest until the 31st of October, and then the King sent for Compton, Bishop of London.[35] He came the next day. The King referred to William’s Declaration, and read the paragraph stating that spiritual Lords had invited the Prince to come over. Compton, with a cunning which in a Papist he would have pronounced Jesuitical, replied, “I am confident the rest of the Bishops would as readily answer in the negative as myself.”[36] This skilfully-contrived evasion was a lie to all intents and purposes; but it took effect, for James admitted that he believed the Bishops were innocent. When he proceeded to urge a request that they should publicly disown any implication in this matter, his Lordship answered that the request should be considered. The King rejoined, that every one must answer for himself, and that he would send for the Archbishop to bring his brethren together.

A third important meeting followed next day, the 2nd of November, when the Bishop of London, with Crew, of Durham, and Cartwright, of Chester—both considered[30] half Papists—and Watson, of St. David’s, a thorough courtier,[37] were brought together at Whitehall, and the Archbishop following them there, conducted them into the Royal closet. The Archbishop explicitly denied having signed the invitation. The Bishop of London artfully said he had given his answer the day before. The Bishop of Durham declared, “I am sure I am none of them.” “Nor I.” “Nor I,” cried the other two. James proceeded to insist that they and their brethren on the Bench should publicly vindicate themselves, and express abhorrence of William’s design.

The next day, November the 3rd, the Bishops of London and Rochester went to Lambeth to dine with His Grace, but finding their brethren of Chester and St. David’s present, though uninvited, they proceeded to a friend’s house in the neighbourhood, and returned, between two and three o’clock, to the Palace, after the other two had[31] left. Then they conferred with Sancroft as to what should be done.[38]

The fourth important meeting of this kind took place on November the 6th, when the Archbishop, and the Bishops of London, Rochester, and Peterborough, made their appearance in the Sovereign’s presence; the Bishop of St. David’s—throughout an object of suspicion—“waiting for them in the Guard-chamber, ready to thrust in with them to the King.” The Primate, taking Lord Preston aside, requested him to procure for them a private audience; upon which the King, through his Lordship, ordered the obnoxious and forward Prelate to withdraw. The rest told James they had done all they could, and that if he were satisfied, they did not care for other people’s opinions; but when he talked to them of such a paper as he had required, they fell back on the ground they had occupied before, that scarcely one in five hundred believed in the genuineness of the document published in the Prince’s name. The Archbishop did not touch the question of the paper so much wished for by James, although one had been drawn up, and signed by himself; most probably the reason of this omission was, that he could not carry his brethren with him in the matter, and[32] he felt it would not do for him to make a solitary disavowal on the subject. Presently the dispute wandered into a confused maze, and the Archbishop could not help adverting to the treatment which he and his six brethren had received at the Royal hands. The King was annoyed, but the Primate persevered; the rest supported him, and His Majesty stood like a stag at bay. James retorted that if they complained, he had a right to complain too, and the quarrel became unseemly in the extreme. Indeed, His Majesty was now beginning to find that whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also reap, and as he had by his lawyers bearded the Bishops in his own Court at Westminster, the Bishops in return were bearding him in his own Palace of Whitehall. The conversation came round to the old point. James wanted them to sign a paper. They would not. “I am your King,” he said; “I am judge what is best for me. I will go my own way; I desire your assistance in it.” Go his own way he might, but they would not go with him. Whatever their high notions of Royal prerogatives, and the obligations of subjects, might have been once, the recent trial had wonderfully opened the eyes of their understanding. They would not take on themselves the responsibility of publishing any disclaimer. His Majesty might publish to the world what they had said, if he liked.[39] “No,” said he; “if I should publish it, the people would not believe me.” Not believe him? The confession was most[33] humiliating. “Sir,” said the right reverend father, “the word of a King is sacred—it ought to be believed.” “They that could believe me guilty of a false son, what will they not believe of me?” was the bitter rejoinder. James’ credit had sunk as low as it could. Further talking was useless. “I will urge you no further,” said he, in conclusion. “If you will not assist me as I desire, I must stand upon my own legs, and trust to myself and my own arms.” So they were dismissed.[40]

One of the Bishops, writing on the 14th of October, had remarked, “All people’s mouths are now full of praises for our order, to whom they say they shall ever owe the preservation of our religion,”—a statement which should be considered in connection with what I have said as to letters of a different purport addressed to Sancroft. The fact seems to have been, that whilst some Churchmen were dissatisfied with irregularities in the Establishment which they blamed the Bishops for not correcting, others—a far larger number—looking chiefly at that moment to the religious and political liberties of the country, regarded certain of the Bishops as making a noble stand against the designs of James. The Bishops’ popularity increased the following month, and although Compton’s Jesuitical answer to the King must be condemned by everybody, and the doubts expressed by the Bishops present at the interview on the 6th, as to the genuineness of William’s Declaration, will appear to most people as reflecting either upon their judgment or their straightforwardness, still their determination not to submit to James’ dictation was in harmony with the spirit which had made the seven so popular. Their firmness in this respect—in connection with the resistance offered to[34] James by other Prelates not present on this last occasion, and responsible neither for Compton’s equivocation or their brethren’s remarks about the Orange documents—certainly operated in favour of the approaching Revolution, the full nature of which, however, they did not foresee.

The day before this 6th of November a momentous event had occurred, of which at the time they knew nothing.

William had set sail from Holland on the 16th of October, with a flag floating over the quaint, high-built frigate, bearing an inscription, of which the first three words formed the motto of the House of Orange, “I will maintain—the liberties of England and the Protestant religion.” As it fluttered on the staff, the wind changed, the fleet had to put back; but the Declaration of the 10th, sent before him, announced his coming, and people, as they awaited the visitation, looked out to sea, and prayed for a “Protestant east wind” to waft over the desired Deliverer. Whilst James was talking to the Bishops on the 2nd of November, the ship had left Helvoetsluys, and after sailing northward, had tacked about a second time, and with a fair wind was making for the British Channel.

In the fleet with the Prince was Frederic, Count of Schomberg, who, though he had been in the service of Louis XIV., remained a staunch member of the Reformed Church, and entered heartily into the design of the Protestant Champion, whom he attended in the capacity of Lieutenant. Another distinguished officer was Isaac Dumont de Bostaquet—a Huguenot soldier who had suffered for his religion, and had been driven from his paternal chateau of La Fontelaye, in France, by the intolerant policy of his infatuated Sovereign. Narrowly escaping with his life,[35] after a number of romantic adventures, he found refuge in Holland, and now placed his sword at the command of the Prince, with all the zeal which could be kindled in the cause of liberty by memories of tyranny and oppression. In William’s dragoon regiments of red and blue were fifty French officers, all more or less inspired by similar feelings. Two companies of French infantry were commanded by Captains de Chauvernay and Rapin-Thoyras, afterwards the historian of England. Perhaps the equipment of these soldiers—dusty, worn, and tattered—appeared to disadvantage when compared with the brilliant uniforms of the Dutch, the German, the Swedes, the Swiss, and the English, who crowded within the wooden walls; but they deserve more notice than they have received, and more gratitude than was ever paid them.[41] Whilst England afforded a sanctuary to the Huguenots oppressed by Popery, in their own country,—Huguenots helped England to keep off the yoke of a like oppression. There were other noteworthy men amongst William’s followers.

Gilbert Burnet was there, full of Dutch memories, full of English hopes, picking up knowledge from the sailors, and musing upon the issue of his patron’s enterprise, not without side glances at his own fortunes. Not far off stood Carstairs, a catholic-spirited Scotch Presbyterian, who had manifested the utmost fortitude under torture, and who, when his own cause rose to the ascendant, did what is rare, for he signally manifested the virtue of moderation. Beside him was a different character, Robert Ferguson, implicated in the Rye-house Plot, and a ringleader in Monmouth’s rebellion.

The fleet presented a magnificent spectacle. “Nothing[36] could be more beautiful,” says Dumont de Bostaquet, “than the evolution of the immense flotilla which now took place under a glorious sky;”[42] and Rapin, recording his own impressions of the moment, observes, “What a glorious show the fleet made! Five or six hundred ships in so narrow a channel, and both the English and French shores covered with numberless spectators is no common sight. For my part, who was then on board the fleet, it struck me extremely.”

Such a fleet, known to be conveying an army to the coast, watched on its way with imperfect information and with mingled fear and hope, must have been to Englishmen a spectacle full of excitement, to which history records scarcely a parallel.

The 4th of November being Sunday, and also the Prince’s birthday, he spent in devotion. Intending to land at Torbay, he found himself carried beyond his destination by the violence of the wind, or the unskilfulness of the pilot; and some measure of agitation,—such as thrilled the multitudes straining their eyes on the Dover Cliffs, whilst the quaintly-built vessels passed by,—must have moved the inhabitants of the towns and villages on both sides the sweep of water at the mouth of the Ex: as we imagine, on the red sand hills, groups gathered here and there, peering through windy weather in search of the ships about to rest under the headland of Devonshire Tor. The next day, the Dutch reached the desired spot, and “the forces were landed with such diligence and tranquillity, that the whole army was on shore before night.”[43]

The associations of the year and the day were propitious. Just a century before, God had scattered the[37] Spanish Armada; and on the 5th of November, 1605, the three Estates of England had been delivered from the Gunpowder Plot. The Calvinist William took the Arminian Burnet by the hand, asking, “Will you not believe in predestination?” “I will never forget,” the chaplain cautiously replied, “that providence of God which has appeared so signally on this occasion.” Public worship followed the landing. Carstairs was the first, “Scotsman and Presbyterian as he was,” to call down the blessings of Heaven on the expedition; and after his prayer, “the troops all along the beach, at his instance, joined in the 118th Psalm,” and this act of devotion produced a sensible effect on the troops.[44] The Prince for awhile seemed elated, yet soon relapsed into his habitual gravity; but Burnet only interpreted the general feeling of the moment when he says, “We saw new and unthought-of characters of a favourable providence of God watching over us.”[45]

Tidings of what had happened rapidly spread, and excited all sorts of people, especially such as had religious sympathies with the new visitors. Devonshire traditions afford an idea of what was felt and done by Dissenters. A lady, worshipping in a meeting-house at Totnes, in commemoration of the discovery of Gunpowder Plot, when she learnt that the Prince had reached the neighbouring bay, immediately hastened, in company with another like-spirited matron, to meet His Highness at Brixham, who “shook hands with them, and gave them a parcel of his Proclamations to distribute, which[38] they did so industriously that not one was left in the family as a memorial of their adventure.”[46]

A story is also told that Roman Catholics were at the time eagerly expecting assistance from the French, and a priest with his friends, stationed on a watch-tower, having descried white flags on the men of war as they hove in sight, prepared an entertainment for the earnestly-desired guests, and proceeded to chant a Te Deum, in gratitude for their arrival. They were soon undeceived, and the fare provided for the French was enjoyed by the Dutch.[47]

The army next day marched on to Exeter, the officers, like the soldiers, wet to the skin, having neither change of raiment, nor food, nor horses, nor servants, nor beds—the baggage still remaining in the ships. But expressions of sympathy, perhaps timorously conveyed, cheered them somewhat on this dreary day; and stories are still circulated amongst the Nonconformist families of the neighbourhood, of ancestors who watched the landing, and spoke of “seeing the[39] country people rolling apples down the hill-side to the soldiers.”[48]

The progress was slow, and the stay at the Western capital long. Thomas Lamplugh, the Bishop who had approved of the Declaration and of the conduct of His Majesty’s servile Judges, showed his fidelity to James by rushing up to London, where he was rewarded with the Archiepiscopal throne of York. York had been left vacant for more than two years and a half, with the design, it was said, of being ultimately occupied by a Roman Catholic. A Popish Bishop had been settled there, with a title in partibus infidelium, whose crosier and utensils were seized after the landing of the Prince of Orange.[49]

The Dean of Exeter also fled in alarm, and His Highness took up his abode in the deserted Deanery. The Prebendaries refused to meet him, or to occupy their stalls, when he marched in military state through the western portal, well studded with statues of saints and kings; and proceeding up the nave, with its exquisite minstrels’ gallery, ascended the steps of the choir, passed under the[40] beautiful screen, and took his seat on the Episcopal throne,—the ornamentation of which in ebonlike oak, without a single nail in the curious structure, so admirably contrasts with the pale arches and the vaulted roof. As soon as the chanting of the Te Deum had ceased, Burnet read His Highness’s Declaration, which proved a signal for such of the clergy and choristers as had ventured on being present, to quit the edifice. At the end of the reading the Doctor cried, “God save the Prince of Orange!” to which some of the congregation responded with a hearty Amen.

De Bostaquet, the French Huguenot, accustomed to the extreme and rigid simplicity of Protestant worship in his own country, was scandalized at what he witnessed at Exeter. He regarded the English service as retaining nearly all the externals of Popery—for such he counted the altar, and the great candles on each side, and the basin of silver-gilt between, and the Canons, in surplices and stoles, ranged in stalls on each side the nave, and the choir of little boys singing with charming voices. He was touched somewhat with the beauty of the music, but the sturdy and ultra-Reformer declared it was all opposed to the simplicity of the French reformed religion, and he confessed he was by no means edified with it.[50]

Burnet delivered a sermon on the following Sunday; and on the same day, Robert Ferguson, being refused by the Presbyterians the keys of the meeting-house in St. James Street, exclaimed, “I will take the kingdom of heaven by violence!” and calling for a hammer, broke open the door. Sword in hand he mounted the pulpit, and preached against the Papists from the 16th verse of the[41] 94th Psalm: “Who will rise up for me against the evil doers?”[51]

At first the Prince’s affairs wore an unfavourable appearance—people of influence did not join him; but before long the tide turned, “and every man mistaking his neighbour’s courage for his own, all rushed to the camp or to the stations which had been assigned them, with a violence proportioned to their late fears.”[52] A hearty welcome awaited His Highness in many places through which he marched, the Dissenters in particular hailing his approach. One of them, a country gentleman, living at Coaxden Hall, rich in rookeries, between Axminster and Chard, had tables spread with provisions under an avenue of trees leading up to the house. The gentleman was Richard Cogan, whose wife Elizabeth, before her marriage, concealed him under a feather-bed, after the Monmouth rebellion, and so saved his life and won his affections. His mother had been a Royalist; and amongst many stories told of Charles’s adventures after his defeat at Worcester, it is related that this lady covered him with the skirts of her enormously-hooped petticoats.[53] The clergy of Dorset found themselves in an awkward position after William had triumphantly passed through the country. They had[42] received an order of Council, sent by the Bishop, prescribing prayers for the Prince of Wales and the Royal family. But now, although some persevered in using the prayers, others laid them aside. There still exists a letter to the Archbishop of Canterbury from the incumbent of Wimborne, asking what he should do under the circumstances.[54]

When Ken heard that the Dutch were coming to Wells, he immediately left the city, and in obedience to His Majesty’s general commands, took all his coach horses with him, and as many of his saddle horses as he could; seeking shelter in a village near Devizes, intending to wait on James, should he come into that neighbourhood. Ken was awkwardly situated, having been chaplain to the Princess of Orange, and knowing many of the Dutch officers; therefore, to prevent suspicion, he left his diocese, determined to preserve his allegiance to a Monarch who still occupied the throne.[55] William found himself in the neighbourhood where the unfortunate Duke of Monmouth had a few years earlier unfurled his flag, to which certain Nonconformists had been drawn, who paid a terrible penalty for their rashness. Many retained keen recollections of Sedgmoor fight and Taunton Assizes, and could scarcely calculate upon the success of this new attempt; yet they sympathized intensely in William’s designs, as is manifest from some of their Church records containing narratives of the Deliverer’s march through the west of England. The Declaration said little in favour of Nonconformists, and only by implication gave hopes to them of legal security. But the documents received an interpretation from the knowledge that William believed[43] conscience to be God’s province, and that toleration is as politic as it is righteous.

Three days before the landing of the Prince, James admonished his subjects, upon peril of being prosecuted, not to publish the treasonable Proclamations; and on the day after the landing, he denounced the act as aiming at the immediate possession of the Crown. Between those two dates, the Scottish Bishops, whose feudal-like loyalty mastered their patriotism, and placed them in opposition to their Episcopal brethren of the South, sent an address to the falling Monarch, in which they denounced the invasion, and professed unshaken allegiance to be part of their religion; not doubting that God, who had often delivered His Majesty, would now give him the hearts of his subjects and the necks of his enemies.[56] Another Scotch address, breathing the utmost devotion, followed, in significant opposition to the ominous silence maintained by Englishmen. This flash of enthusiasm, however, on the other side the Tweed, did nothing for the salvation of the House of Stuart,—the current of opinion throughout the realm, amongst high and low, having set in the opposite direction.

At this critical moment, amidst the confusion which reigned at Whitehall, and as selfish courtiers were waiting to see how they could promote their own interests, the misguided Sovereign commanded his army to march towards Salisbury. The night before he himself started for that city, a few noblemen and Bishops waited upon him with a proposal to assemble Parliament, and treat with the Prince of Orange; when, according to his own account, he told the Prelates that it would much better become men of their calling to instruct the people in their[44] duty to God and the King, rather than foment a rebellions temper, by presenting such petitions at the very moment the enemy stood at the door. He says he regarded them as making religion a cloak of rebellion, and was at last convinced that the Church’s doctrine of passive obedience formed too sandy a foundation for a Prince’s hope.[57] His answer to the request for a Parliament, according to the report of the Bishop of Rochester, ran in these words: “What you ask of me, I most passionately desire, and I promise you upon the faith of a king, that I will have a Parliament, and such an one as you ask for, as soon as ever the Prince of Orange has quitted this realm. For how is it possible a Parliament should be free in all its circumstances, as you petition for, whilst an enemy is in the kingdom, and can make return of near a hundred voices?”[58]

James reached Salisbury on the 19th of November, and took up his abode in the Episcopal Palace,—under the shadow of the noble spire which rises so gracefully out of the midst of a pleasant landscape of quaint-looking houses, near the confluence of two rivers, bordered by gardens and orchards, by green meadows and brown fields. There he had reason enough to be alarmed by the progress of events, and to reflect on the instability of worldly greatness; yet he did not despair.

He was wonderfully slow in giving up all hope of help from Bishops. To the last he seemed to cling to that order with the tenacity of a sailor who has seized on a plank from a foundered vessel. From Salisbury he[45] sent for the Bishop of Winchester, who had cautiously remained at his princely castle during these troublous times. The Bishop wrote to the Archbishop of Canterbury the following account of this fruitless visit:—

A spirit of disaffection soon showed itself in the upper ranks. Lord Lovelace had been deeply involved in intrigues preparatory to the Revolution; and in a crypt under his Elizabethan mansion, called Lady-place, at Hurley, so well known to all pilgrims to picturesque spots, on the[46] banks of the Thames, he had held midnight conferences whilst all the Whigs were longing for a Protestant wind. He now quitted his home, at the head of seventy followers, and galloped westward to join the Prince. Colchester, Wharton, Russel, and Abingdon proceeded in the same direction; but, what foreboded more mischief, defection broke out in the ranks of Royalism. Cornbury, eldest son of Lord Clarendon, and nephew of James’ first wife, at the head of three regiments, deserted the camp at Salisbury, and joined the Prince—most of his soldiers, more faithful than himself, deserting him, when they discovered his treachery. Still worse defections followed. Prince George of Denmark—the husband of the Princess Anne, James’ daughter, a person who, with all her weakness of mind, had acquired a reputation for Protestant zeal—went next. In company with the Duke of Ormond, he rode off from Andover, having the previous night supped at his father-in-law’s table. The Churchills—great favourites with James, great supporters of his cause—soon fell into the stream. The destined hero of Blenheim, accompanied by Grafton, pushed on his way to worship the rising sun. A story is told, I do not know on what authority, that William, on seeing these unexpected visitors, exclaimed, “If ye be come peaceably to me to help me, mine heart shall be knit unto you, but if ye be come to betray me to mine enemies (seeing that there is no wrong in my hands), the God of your fathers rebuke it.” One of them replied, “Thine are we, David, and on thy side, thou son of Jesse. Peace, peace be unto thee, and peace be to thy helpers, for thy God helpeth thee.” The Princess Anne, imitating her husband’s example, disappeared from Whitehall, and in a carriage—preceded by Compton, Bishop of London, who wore a purple velvet coat and jack boots, with pistols in his holsters and a sword in his[47] hand[60]—was driving off at the top of her horses’ speed to the town of Nottingham.

The desertions at Salisbury drove James back to London; there the last drop was added to the cup of his domestic sorrow, when he learned that his daughter Anne had abandoned his cause. Further calamities befell him. Rochester, Godolphin, even Jeffreys, meeting their master in Council, recommended the calling of a Parliament; and at the same time Clarendon blamed James for leaving Salisbury without fighting a battle. Eventually, after having bewailed his son Cornbury’s apostacy, the great courtier thought it the safest course to imitate that son’s example.

James was now reduced to extremities, and on the 22nd of November he issued a Proclamation, in which he recalled his revolted subjects to allegiance with the promise of a free and gracious pardon, and tempted the soldiers of the Dutch army to come over to the Royal standard with the promise of liberal entertainment, or of safe dismissal to their own country. On the 30th, appeared another Proclamation, for the speedy calling of a Parliament.[61]

Matters were proceeding favourably on the other side. Crossing Salisbury Plain, marching past Stonehenge, William and his army, with great military display, took possession of Salisbury, after which the Prince occupied a house in the neighbouring village of Berwick. Clarendon, on reaching the Episcopal city, which had become the head quarters of the Revolution, alighted at the George Inn, where he found the Dutch Ambassador; and the next morning waited on the Prince, who took him into his bedchamber, and talked with him for half an hour, telling him how glad he felt to see him, and how seasonable the[48] accession of his son had proved. The Earl, hearing Burnet was in the house, went to see that important person. “What,” asked the latter, “can be the meaning of the King’s sending these Commissioners?” “To adjust matters for the safe and easy meeting of the Parliament,” replied Clarendon. “How,” rejoined the other, “can a Parliament meet, now the kingdom is in this confusion—all the West being possessed by the Prince’s forces, and all the North being in arms for him?” Clarendon urged that if the design was to settle things, they might hope “for a composure.” The Doctor, with his usual warmth, answered, “It is impossible: there can be no Parliament: there must be no Parliament. It is impossible!”[62]

Clarendon made his way to Berwick—the house used by the Prince at the time was in the possession of one of Clarendon’s relatives—there he had a private conference with His Highness, and was received “very obligingly.” The Earl wished that the opposing parties might come to terms, and talked with Burnet, who, walking up and down the room, in wonderful warmth exclaimed, “What treaty? How can there be a treaty? The sword is drawn. There is a supposititious child, which must be inquired into.” Clarendon was puzzled at Burnet’s conduct, and asked him why the day before, at prayers in the Cathedral, he had behaved so as to make the congregation stare; for when the usual collect for the Sovereign was being repeated, he sat down in his stall and made an “ugly noise.” Burnet replied, he could not join in the usual supplications for James as King of England.[63]

As William rode on horseback from Berwick to Salisbury,[49] the people flocked to see and bless him. He acknowledged their affectionate salutations by taking off his hat, saying, “Thank you, good people. I am come to secure the Protestant religion, and to free you from Popery.”

William’s popularity advanced with hasty strides from the south to the north and east of England, obtaining marked manifestation in certain towns and cities, connected with other and somewhat similar struggles. The nobility and gentry of the northern midland counties met at Derby—where, a little more than half a century later, the Pretender Charles Edward lodged for a few days, flushed with the hope of recovering his grandfather’s crown—and there they declared it to be their duty to endeavour the healing of present distractions, as they apprehended the consequences which might arise from the landing of an army. They wished there should be the calling of a free Parliament, to which the Prince of Orange was willing to submit his pretensions. At Nottingham, the refuge of the Princess Anne—where Charles I. had raised his standard, and Colonel Hutchinson had held the Castle—many of the upper and middle classes assembled, to enumerate grievances under which the nation groaned. The laws, as they said, had become a nose of wax, and being sensible of the influence of Jesuitical councils in the Government, they avowed their determination not to deliver posterity over to Rome and slavery, but to join with the Prince in recovering their almost ruined laws, liberties, and religion.

At York—so closely connected with the Civil Wars—Sir Henry Gooderick, in the Common Hall, addressed a hundred gentlemen to this effect, “that there having been great endeavours made by the Government of late years to bring Popery into the kingdom, and by many[50] devices to set at nought the laws of the land,” there could be no proper redress of grievances “but by a free Parliament; that now was the only time to prefer a petition of the sort; and that they could not imitate a better pattern than had been set before them by several Lords, spiritual and temporal.” Alarmed by flying reports of what the Papists were about to do, the Earl of Danby, Lord Horton, Lord Willoughby, and others, scoured the streets of the city at the head of a troop, shouting, “A free Parliament, the Protestant religion, and no Popery!”[64] At Newcastle and at Hull—ground covered by Commonwealth memories—demonstrations occurred in favour of a free Parliament. In the fine old Market-place of Norwich, abounding in Puritan associations, the Duke of Norfolk addressed the Mayor and citizens, and talked of securing law, liberty, and the Protestant religion. Just afterwards, the townsmen of King’s Lynn—where one meets with the shades of Oliver Cromwell and the Earl of Manchester—responded to the Duke in a strain like his own. Berwick-on-Tweed followed in the wake of other towns. Even the heads of Houses at Oxford sent to the Prince an assurance of support, and an invitation to visit them, telling him that their plate, if needful, should be at his service.[65] In short, a flame of enthusiasm in favour of the Dutch deliverer spread from one end of the land to the other.[66]

I have shown that treachery weakened the cause of James; I am sorry to say, that falsehood was employed in support of William. Two genuine Declarations were published in his cause; a third appeared, of the most violent description. It stated as his resolution, that all Papists found with arms on their persons or[51] in their houses, should be treated as freebooters and banditti, be incapable of quarter, and be delivered up to the discretion of his soldiers; all persons assisting them were to be looked upon as partakers of their crimes. It stated, also, that numerous Papists had of late resorted to London and Westminster; that there was reason to suspect they did so, not for their own security, but in order to make a desperate attempt upon those places; and that French troops, procured by the interest and power of the Jesuits, would, if possible, land in England, in “pursuance of the engagements which, at the instigation of that pestilent Society, His most Christian Majesty, with one of his neighbouring Princes of the same communion, had entered into, for the utter extirpation of the Protestant religion out of Europe.”[67] Burnet, who was in the secrets of the Prince’s Court, observes, “No doubt was made that it was truly the Prince’s Declaration; but he knew nothing of it; and it was never known who was the author of so bold a thing. No person ever claimed the merit of it, for though it had an amazing effect, yet, it seems he that contrived it apprehended that the Prince would not be well pleased with the author of such an imposture in his name. The King was under such a consternation, that he neither knew what to resolve on, nor whom to trust.”[68] It has been said[69] that the Declaration was not made public until after the Prince had left Sherborne. William did not issue any counter Declaration nor publish any repudiation of the document, but left it to produce its effect. Such a want of straightforwardness contradicts his general character, but most[52] likely those about him, seeing how effective the Declaration proved, prevented its being cancelled; still, if the main blame rests with them, their master remains responsible for having at least winked at the maxim of doing evil that good might come. Years afterwards one Speke—who had been in the Prince’s army, and who was goaded by revenge for his brother’s death under Judge Jeffreys—avowed himself the fabricator of the infamous device, and said that he gave it to the Prince with his own hand at Sherborne Castle; that His Highness seemed somewhat surprised at first, but that when he had considered it, he and those about him were not displeased. No credit can be given to a man who played the part which Speke confessed he had done. Part of his statement is improbable, and is contradicted by the relation of circumstances given by Bishop Burnet. At all events, the effect of the forgery was terrible, and soon afterwards this same man contrived another and still more diabolical scheme. In the meanwhile, attempts at negotiation went on. James had appointed Commissioners to meet William, but things now reached a point rendering conferences utterly idle. The Palace was thrown into confusion by the escape of the Royal family, and the consternation of the Court is reflected in a much damaged letter, brought under the notice of historical students by the Historical MSS. Commission. “Your lordship,” says Turner, Bishop of Ely, under date December 11, 1688, to Trelawny, Bishop of Bristol, both numbered amongst the seven, “has heard by [this time that on] Sunday night, the Queen and Prince of Wales [left] about 2 in the morning. They went [in a boat with] oars to Lambeth, and so, without guards, in [a coach] towards Gravesend, where a yacht lay for [them]. Many of quality slink away daily. ’Tis believed [the[53] Ki]ng will follow very suddenly. How are the mighty fallen. [My] Lord, these are sad and strange revolutions for our general [and grie]vous national sins, which God Almighty forgive and relieve us. This minute I receive an advice from the Earl of Rochester that the King is secretly withdrawn this morning. God preserve him and direct us.”

James fled to Sheerness, having burnt the unissued Parliamentary writs, and thrown into the Thames the Great Seal of the realm. Arrived at Sheerness, he fell into the hands of the rabble, upon which, as De Foe relates, “he applied himself to a clergyman in words to this effect: ‘Sir, ’tis men of your cloth have reduced me to this condition: I desire you will use your endeavour to still and quiet the people, and disperse them, that I may be freed from this tumult.’ The gentleman’s answer was cold and insignificant, and going down to the people, he returned no more to the King.”[70]

What was to be done? Amidst consternation indescribable, some of the Peers resolved to hold a meeting in Guildhall, the walls of which had often echoed with popular cries of all sorts. At this meeting, held December the 10th, amidst the temporal Lords there appeared the Archbishops of Canterbury and York, and the Bishops of Winchester, Asaph, Ely, Rochester, and Peterborough. The Archbishop of Canterbury presided, and a sub-committee of three or four drew up a Declaration, in which they promised to assist the Prince of Orange in obtaining a Parliament for the welfare of England, the security of the Church, and the freedom of Dissenters. This was signed by the two Archbishops, the Bishops of Winchester, St. Asaph, Ely, Rochester, and Peterborough,[54] and by several Peers. A deputation of four, including the Bishop of Ely, was appointed to wait upon His Highness. Riots followed. “No Popery” became the general cry. Roman Catholic chapels were stripped of furniture, in some instances the buildings were demolished. Oranges—symbolic of the Deliverer—were stuck on the ends of spikes and staves, and waved in triumph. The Embassies of Roman Catholic countries were no longer safe, and the mansion of the Spanish Minister was sacked. One act of vengeance will surprise no one who has read the story of the previous reign: Jeffreys, disguised as a sailor, fell into the hands of the mob, and narrowly escaped with life. Speke, not satisfied with the fictitious Declaration, invented terrific stories about massacres, which he said were already begun by the Irish. All kinds of atrocities were to be perpetrated by the disbanded army. De Foe repeated that, “the Irish dragoons which had fled from Reading, rallied at Twyford, and having lost not many of their number—for there were not above twelve men killed—marched on for Maidenhead, swearing and cursing, after a most soldierly manner, that they would burn all the towns wherever they came, and cut the throats of the people.” He adds, that as he himself rode to Maidenhead, he learnt at Slough that Maidenhead had been burnt, also Uxbridge and Reading. When he came to Reading, he was assured Maidenhead and Oakingham were in flames.[71] Imagination invented all kinds of horrors. In consequence of Speke’s letters came the Irish night, as it is called, when the citizens of London, in the[55] utmost terror at the thought of insurgents entering their gates and murdering them in their beds, sat up till morning,—drums beating to arms, women screaming in agony, lights blazing at windows, streets lined with soldiers, and the doors of houses barricaded against the fancied foe. The panic could not be confined to the Metropolis. It spread to the North; it reached Leeds. Stories were told of Papists at Nottingham burning and slaying all before them; whereupon, the people of Leeds mended their fire-arms and fixed scythes on poles, kept watch and ward, and sent for the military, who came in such strong force that they amounted to seven thousand horse and foot. This pacified the inhabitants, until in the middle of the night there rose a cry, “Horse and arms! horse and arms!—the enemy are upon us! Beeston is actually burnt, and only some escaped to bring the doleful tidings!” The bells were rung backwards, women shrieked, candles were placed in the windows, armed horsemen rode in the direction where the destroyers were expected; and men with their wives and children, leaving all behind, even money and plate upon the tables, ran for shelter to barns and haystacks. The terror was so great that nothing like it had occurred since the Civil Wars; but the immediate cause of it all turned out to be the shouting of a few drunken people. Again came the cry of “Fire! fire! Horse and arms! for God’s sake!”—simply because beacons were burning over the town of Halifax. Whether deluded, or wishing to keep up an excitement for political purposes, military expresses brought pretended advice “that the Irish were broken into parties and dispersed.” The whole was managed so artfully, that one who inquired into the matter could not learn who contrived it.[72] Hatred[56] against the Roman Catholics, kindled by atrocious falsehoods, contributed to strengthen a desire for the expatriation of all priests; but other causes, according to the confession of Jesuits themselves, helped to bring on the downfall of Popery. Father Con, an active Jesuit in London, wrote a letter to the provincial of his order at Rome, telling a story, in which he ascribes a considerable share in the catastrophe, to his own party, and especially to D’Adda, the Papal Nuncio. The mischief, he said, came from their own avarice and ambition. The King had “made use of fools, knaves, and blockheads,” and the favoured agent, instead of being a “moderate, discreet, and sagacious minister,” was a “mere boy, a fine, showy fop, to make love to the ladies.”[73]

James, after a short detention at Sheerness, returned to London. Lord Middleton heard of his coming, and hurriedly scrawled a note in these words: “The King will be at Rochester this night, and intends to be at Whitehall to-morrow; has ordered his coaches to meet him at his lodgings.” Immediately from Westminster, under date “Dec. 15, 1688, 7 at night,” the Bishop of Winchester wrote to Sancroft, “May it please your Grace—and I am sure it will—His Majesty will be here to-morrow, and his coaches and guard are to meet him at Dartford. This account and orders came from my Lord Middleton.”[74]

The discarded Monarch came, as Middleton said, and a gleam of loyalty burst out once more, amidst bells and bonfires. The poor man almost thought he should gain a new lease of power, and the frightened Papists came out of holes and corners to welcome their regal friend.[57] He even ventured to assume a rather haughty tone, but in vain. The die was cast. The Dutch Ambassador informed him that the Prince would allow no Royal guards, but such as were under his own command. This amounted to a demand of surrender. William was in a position to insist upon it. Three Dutch battalions reached Whitehall at 10 o’clock on the night of December the 17th. Before the morning a message arrived from the Prince, requiring James to proceed to Ham, near Richmond. James said he should prefer Rochester. It mattered little where he went. The party in the ascendant only wished to get rid of him. He went to Rochester. There we need not follow him. It is enough to notice that several Bishops concurred in entreating him not to leave the country.[75] From Rochester he stole away to France. Next we find him at St. Germains.

As the rejected King slipped down the Thames on the morning of December the 18th, his destined successor was preparing to take up his quarters at St. James’s Palace. He disappointed the people, who waited in the rain to welcome him, by driving through the park. Attended by a brilliant train of courtiers and officers, he reached the gateway of the Royal residence late in the afternoon. The Princess Anne, accompanied by Lady Churchill, both covered with orange ribbons, went that night to the theatre in her father’s coach.

William had ordered Burnet to secure the Papists from violence, thinking perhaps of the probable consequences of the third Declaration. He renewed the order after he had entered London; in consequence of it, passports were granted to priests wishing to leave the country; and two being imprisoned in Newgate, the busy ecclesiastical[58] Minister of His Highness paid them a visit, and took upon himself to provide for their comfort. A little incident, recorded by Dr. Patrick, brings before us vividly the excitement amongst Churchmen at that critical period. “It was a very rainy night when Dr. Tenison and I being together, and discoursing in my parlour, in the little cloisters in Westminster, one knocked hard at the door. It being opened, in came the Bishop of St. Asaph; to whom I said, ‘What makes your Lordship come abroad in such weather, when the rain pours down as if heaven and earth would come together?’ To which he answered, ‘He had been at Lambeth, and was sent by the Bishops to wait upon the Prince, and know when they might all come and pay their duty to him.’ I asked if my Lord of Canterbury had agreed to it, together with the rest. He said, ‘Yea, he made some difficulty at the first, but consented at the last, and ordered him to go with that message.’”[76]

Whitehall, which, up to the flight of James, had been crowded by friends or time-servers, now became a desert; and St. James’s, which had been a desert, now became a rendezvous for courtiers of every kind. Those who held staves, keys, or other badges of office, laid them down; and the whole herd of seekers, expectants, and claimants jostled one another on the threshold of the house where the new master of England had taken up his abode. Clarendon went to Court instantly, but could not get near His Highness for the crowd of people.

A clerical address appears to have been amongst the first, if not the very first, presented to him on his arrival. At noon, after the rainy night when the Bishop of St.[59] Asaph knocked at a door in the little cloisters at Westminster, Dr. Paman, a domestic of the Archbishop of Canterbury, called on Dr. Patrick to inform him that the Prince had appointed three o’clock in the afternoon to receive the Bishops. “Will my Lord of Canterbury be with them?” asked Patrick. “Yes, yes,” was the reply. Whether an interview between the Prince and any Bishops did take place that day, or the messenger had mistaken the time, or the appointment had been altered, certain it is that the Archbishop did not go, and we have no particular account of the presentation of an address before the 21st.

On that occasion, Compton, Bishop of London, took the lead. Two days before, he and some of his clergy met to agree upon an address. There were present persons who desired the insertion of a passage to the effect that the Prince should “have respect to the King, and preserve the Church established by law;” and “one of considerable note refused to go, because these clauses were not inserted.” Certain Nonconformists heard what was going on, and requested they might unite with their Episcopal brethren. Compton complied, and on Friday morning, the 21st, when the address was to be presented, sixteen early risers left their homes and threaded their way through the dusky streets. “No more could be got together in due time that morning, for the Bishop was to make the address about 9 or 10 o’clock that day.” They deputed Howe, Fairclough, Stancliffe, and Mayo “to go with the conformable clergy (who numbered about 99) and the Bishop of London to attend the Prince.” Admitted to His Highness’s presence, the Bishop—a perfect courtier—conducted the interview with becoming grace, addressing him viva voce, and gratifying the Nonconformists by a special reference to them as brethren who differed on some[60] minor matters, but in nothing substantial, and who fully concurred in the address presented, “at which words, the Prince took particular notice of the four Nonconformist ministers”—an incident which no doubt would give rise to some talk that memorable Christmas-time.

A large meeting of Presbyterian and Independent brethren was held just afterwards, to depute four of their number to wait on Compton, to thank him for his courtesy, and whilst they were considering this matter, “there were divers bundles of the King’s letters, containing the reasons of his withdrawing, delivered or thrown in amongst them by a stranger. Some bundles had particular directions on them.” The circumstance indicates the activity of James’ agents, and their idea that he had special claims on the Dissenters, who had taken advantage of his Indulgences. But, says the person who records the incident, “they are the more fortified hereby in their purpose, that they may cast off the imputation cast upon them by their enemies, as betrayers of the religion and laws of the kingdom, by complying with the Court.”[77] Other Nonconformists, who did not hear of the Bishops’ audience in sufficient time, presented a distinct address a few days afterwards, promising “the utmost endeavour, which in their stations they were capable of affording, for the promoting the excellent and most desirable ends for which His Highness had declared.”[78]

England was now in the midst of a revolution. What was its character? Its ecclesiastical aspects alone demand our attention, but these are so closely connected with others, that we shall be compelled to look at them all together. Politics and religion were inextricably interwoven. They had been so in earlier changes. Changes mainly religious were also political; changes mainly political were also religious. Lollardism wrought a vast religious revolution, but though it principally aimed at purifying the Church, it sought, as a means to that end, the amendment of the State. The Reformation was pre-eminently an ecclesiastical movement, but its political entanglements are obvious to everybody. The Civil Wars were struggles for civil liberty—for the rights of the people against the oppression of the Crown; but the religious spirit, at first hidden in the heart of those conflicts, was so strong, and soon burst out in other forms so conspicuously, that the Commonwealth of England and the Protectorate of Cromwell became entangled with ecclesiastical and theological controversies. The Revolution of 1688 came in the wake of the Puritan movement.

The union between Church and State, which runs back through English history to its earliest days, rendered this[62] intermingling of interests an unavoidable necessity. Great movements in the Church affected the Government; great changes in the Government affected the Church. Whilst this union is obviously a cause of additional complexity, no thoughtful person can fail to discover in even the simplest principles of polity and doctrine, forces which are sure to touch society in its temporal interests, and render inevitable political developments of religion and religious developments of politics. If the Church were separated from the State to-morrow, a connexion between religion and politics would remain.

The two great political Revolutions of England in the 17th century sprung from religious feeling, from religious antipathies, from religious aspirations. Fiery impulses, kindled by faith, did more to scorch and destroy civil despotism than any constitutional traditions, any maxims of secular policy. Religion was the prime mover in the events of 1688. Not only did ministers of religion take part in it, but religion itself entered deeply into the political question. When moving in one direction the Popery of James prompted him to play the despot, and when moving in another direction the Protestantism of his subjects impelled them to fight for their liberties—the two forces came in contact, and issued in a crash, bringing about the King’s downfall and the Prince’s elevation. The same influences led to a settlement of the long-debated question of prerogative—they consolidated the power of Parliament, they created the Bill of Rights; without such religious enthusiasm as then existed, it may be doubted whether such a Revolution would have been possible; and as it sprung from religious causes, so the Revolution produced religious results. It checked the progress of Popery, it inaugurated a new form of Protestant ascendency,[63] which has lasted down to our own time; it altered the position of the Church Establishment; it materially modified the Act of Uniformity; and it legally secured toleration. These subjects will claim attention as we proceed, and a fuller estimate of the character of the Revolution had better be deferred for the present.

The Peers met in their own House on the 22nd of December. Nothing of moment passed. The day before Christmas-day they met again, and we find Clarendon, with a lingering regard for the Stuart family, asking for an inquiry into the birth of the Prince of Wales, when Lord Wharton, an old Puritan, indignantly replied, “My Lords, I did not expect, at this time of day, to hear anybody mention that child, who was called the Prince of Wales; indeed I did not, and I hope we shall hear no more of him.” It was at last decided that an address should be presented to the Prince of Orange to take on him the Administration of affairs, and to issue circular-letters to the counties, cities, universities, and cinque-ports, to send Representatives to a Convention at Westminster on the 22nd of January following.[79]

The Archbishop did not attend. Clarendon and the Bishop of Ely sent for him, “but the King’s being gone had cast such a damp upon him that he would not come.”[80] James, soon after his flight, had written to the Primate, informing him that, but for his hasty departure, he should have explained the reasons of his becoming a Roman Catholic; that although he had not thought proper to do this on a former occasion, when his re-conversion had been attempted, yet he never refused speaking freely with Protestants, especially with His Grace, “whom he[64] always considered to be his friend, and for whom he had a great esteem.” His own “conversion had taken place in his riper years, and on the full conviction of his mind as to the controverted points.”[81] Sancroft, with all his weakness, narrowness, and obstinacy, had a kindness of heart, which, in spite of the treatment received from the fallen Monarch, inspired compassion for him in a season of deep adversity.

Clarendon busied himself in interviews with the Prelates, and we find that on the 29th of December, he and the Bishops of St. Asaph and Ely were together reading over the King’s reasons for leaving Rochester. Different opinions of his conduct appear, together with Clarendon’s predilections in favour of his old master, in the following passage of his Diary—a Diary which sheds much light on that changeful time:—“The Bishop of Ely and I were moved, but the Bishop of St. Asaph took the paper, and began to comment upon it, saying it was a Jesuitical masterpiece. I think I never heard more malicious inferences than he drew from the King’s expression in that paper. Good God! where is loyalty and Christian charity.”[82] On New Year’s-day, 1689, amidst a hard frost, Clarendon’s lingering loyalty to James did not prevent his paying court to William; and afterwards visiting Sir Edward Seymour, he heard him say, amongst other things, the countenance shown by the Prince to Dissenters “gave too much cause of jealousy to the Church of England,” and if that Church were not supported, England would “run into a Commonwealth, and all would be ruined.”[83]

Another interesting peep into ecclesiastical secrets[65] is afforded by Clarendon, whose report, for the sake of accuracy, had better be preserved in his own words:—

“I went to dinner at Lambeth: Dr. Tenison with me. We went over the bridge, by reason the river was so full of ice, that boats could not pass. After dinner I spoke to the Archbishop (as I had done several times before) of going to the Prince of Orange, or sending some message to him by some of the Bishops: for he had yet taken no notice at all of him: but he was positive not to do it, for the reasons he formerly gave me. We then spoke to him of the approaching Convention, and whether he would not think of preparing something against that time in behalf of the Dissenters. Dr. Tenison added, it would be expected something should be offered in pursuance of the petition which the seven Bishops had given to the King: for which they had been put into the Tower. The Archbishop said, he knew well what was in their petition; and he believed every Bishop in England intended to make it good, when there was an opportunity of debating those matters in Convocation; but till then, or without a commission from the King, it was highly penal to enter upon Church matters; but, however, he would have it in his mind, and would be willing to discourse any of the Bishops or other Clergy thereupon, if they came to him; though he believed the Dissenters would never agree among themselves with what concessions they would be satisfied. To which Dr. Tenison replied, he believed so too; that he had not discoursed with any of them upon this subject; and the way to do good was, not to discourse with them, but for the Bishops to endeavour to get such concessions settled in Parliament, the granting whereof (whether accepted or not by the Dissenters) should be good for the Church. The Archbishop answered, that when there was a Convocation, those[66] matters would be considered of; and in the meantime, he knew not what to say, but that he would think of what had been offered by us.”[84]

What the thoughts of the Archbishop were just then with regard to Dissenters, it is impossible to say. It is otherwise respecting his opinion upon another point.

All Protestants, high and low, had united for some months in one thing—the desire for a Revolution which should put a stop to the reign of prerogative, and place the liberties of the country upon a legal basis. But what exactly was the Revolution to be? Who was to be Ruler in the room of James? As to this pressing subject, opinions ran in divergent lines. The Archbishop, suffering from ill-health, worried by distractions around him, shut himself up in his Palace that cold Christmas-time, and covered closely, with his own neat hand, twenty-five pages of paper, from which we learn how he looked at the politics of the hour. Gazing at the engravings taken from his portrait in Lambeth Palace, we see him—with his simple, honest face, and a close black cap, such as gives the wearer a Puritan look, but for a pair of lawn sleeves sometimes worn—industriously putting down the pros and cons of the puzzle.

The King is gone. The Government is without a pilot. The captain of a foreign force is at the head of affairs. How is the Government to be settled legally and securely? Shall the commander of the foreign force be declared King, and solemnly crowned? Shall the next heir—the Princess Mary (the Prince of Wales is not mentioned)—be Queen, her husband acquiring an interest in the government through her right? or shall the King be declared incapable of personal government, the commander[67] being made Custos Regni, who shall administer affairs in the King’s name? “I am clearly of opinion,” writes the perplexed critic, “that the last way is the best, and that a settlement cannot be made so justifiable and lasting any other way.”[85] We cannot proceed through the prolix dissertation in which Sancroft endeavours to support his conclusion. Every word proves his simplicity and conscientiousness, but a weaker set of reasons, and a set of reasons more pedantically expressed, one rarely meets with. Both the moral and intellectual sides of the man’s character are apparent throughout. But for the theory of the divine right of kings, and the subject’s duty of passive obedience, which acted as a spell upon his mind, it would be impossible to conceive how a person of ordinary intelligence could advocate such a scheme as he did. Before long it must have been found unmanageable, leading to a second Revolution. While professedly concocted for the purpose of maintaining James’ kingly rights, it stripped him of all power; and curiously enough, as appears on a moment’s reflection, it is open to precisely the objections which had been brought against the Puritan Commonwealth’s-men, who administered government against the King in the King’s own name. To call James sovereign, with William as Custos Regni, was to use words in the way Pym and Hampden and Cromwell had done. What makes Sancroft’s conduct the more inconsistent is, that he and his party supported the Act of Uniformity, which required the Clergy to abhor that traitorous position of taking arms by the King’s authority against the King’s person, or against those commissioned by him. Must not William have done this, if Sancroft’s advice had been[68] adopted? Must he not have defended his Regency by force against the nominal Monarch, who would have regarded that Regency as a flagrant usurpation?

The Archbishop anxiously consulted with some of the Bishops of his province touching this subject, and when the meetings became publicly known, they received the name of the Lambeth, or Holy Jacobite Club.[86] They did not all agree. Four of them went home one day from Lambeth, in the coach of Turner, Bishop of Ely, deploring they should disagree in anything, and especially in such a thing as that which all the world must needs observe. Turner wrote immediately afterwards to the Primate, asking him to draw up propositions against deposition and election, or anything else which would break the succession, because he was better versed than his brethren in canons and statutes, out of which the propositions ought to be drawn. Ken, he said, had left a draft with him, which might facilitate a completion of the task. The afternoon of the same day, Turner was to hold a meeting in Ely House, at which Patrick, Tenison, Sherlock, Scott, and Burnet were to be present, as well as two Bishops—St. Asaph and Peterborough. These men were of diverse opinions; how they got on together we do not know, but it appears some underhand work occurred in reference to James on the part of the Bishop of Ely. He enclosed, in his letter to Lambeth, a paper to be kept very private, of which he says, it “may be published one day, to show we have not been wanting[69] faithfully to serve a hard master in his extremity; and for the present it will be proof enough to your Grace, that although I have made some steps, which you could not, towards our new masters, I did it purely to serve our old one, and preserve the public.”[87] At any rate, Sancroft appears more straightforward in this business than some of his brethren.

Clarendon and Evelyn met at Lambeth Palace the Bishops of St. Asaph, Ely, Bath and Wells, Peterborough, and Chichester. They prayed, dined, and discoursed together. Outside, some persons were disposed to have the Princess proclaimed Queen without hesitation; others inclined to a Regency; a Tory party wished to invite the King back upon conditions; Republicans preferred to have the Prince of Orange constituted an English Stadtholder; and the Popish party simply aimed at throwing the whole country into confusion, with the hope of something springing out of it to serve their ends. Evelyn records that he saw nothing of this variety of objects in the assembly of Bishops, who were unanimous for a Regency, and for suffering public matters to proceed in the name of the King.[88] Such perfect unanimity, however, as Evelyn supposed, could not have existed if Clarendon be right, who says he feared the Bishop of St. Asaph had been wheedled by Burnet into supporting the transfer of the Crown, and would be induced to make the King’s going away a cession—a word Burnet fondly used.[89]

The presence of the Primate at the Convention about to be held was of the first importance, and Clarendon earnestly urged his attendance; but the obstinacy of the[70] one equalled the importunity of the other. Sancroft would not go, nor would he visit His Highness. “Would you have me kill myself?” he petulantly asked his noble friend; “do you not see what a cold I have?” “No,” said the Earl; “but it would do well if you would excuse your not waiting on the Prince, by letting him know what a cold you have, and that you will wait on him when it is gone.” All the reply he could get was, “I will consider of it.”[90]

Whatever might be the opinions of the Lambeth party, the Bishop of London shared neither in their counsels nor in their sympathy. He wished to see the Princess Mary Queen Regent, leaving her at liberty, if she liked, to bestow upon her husband, by consent of Parliament, the title of King. Nor did the prevalent desire of the councillors of the Archbishop, for a Regent who should rule in the King’s name, satisfy all James’ Anglican adherents. Sherlock, Master of the Temple, had at his back a large number of Divines, and he contended for inviting James back to Whitehall, with such stipulations as would secure the safety and peace of the realm—an utterly Utopian idea. Burnet, on the other hand, talked of William’s having acquired a right to the Crown based on conquest—a notion scouted by most Englishmen. Nine-tenths of the Clergy were for upholding the cause of hereditary monarchy; but this large majority broke up into several sections, nor did the remaining tenth part entirely agree.

Neither were Nonconformists of one mind. Some were so engrossed in the discharge of spiritual duties that they paid surprisingly little attention to the questions of the day. The biographer of Oliver Heywood[71] informs us that little remains in his papers to show what he thought of the Revolution, politically regarded. His mind rested on one point—the liberty of preaching, and it seemed indifferent to him whether it came by a Royal Declaration or by an Act of Parliament.[91] Matthew Henry states that it was not without fear and trembling his father Philip received the tidings of the Prince’s landing, “as being somewhat in the dark concerning the clearness of his call, and dreading what might be the consequence of it,”—that he used to say, “Give peace in our time, O Lord,” was a prayer to which he could add his Amen; but he stopped there. However, when the Revolution was accomplished, he rejoiced in the consequences, and joined in the national thanksgiving.[92]

Another class of Nonconformists were in an awkward position. Their fault had been that they identified themselves with men and measures out of all harmony with their own principles. William Penn, Vincent Alsop, Stephen Lobb, and others had signed obsequious addresses to James. They had blindly credited him with a love for religious liberty, and had really, though not intentionally, upheld his despotism. But in this emergency they presented no word of condolence to the man whom they had helped to befool, nor did they attempt anything to save him from his impending fate. A double inconsistency marked their conduct: first, they contradicted their profession of liberal principles; next, they contradicted their profession of personal regard. They were galled by the reproach of enemies, also they must have felt reproaches of conscience.

Another class of Nonconformists had, without any compromise, availed themselves of the liberty offered[72] them, though disliking the unconstitutional quarter whence it came. When the Revolution took place, most of these, and others who survived to witness it, were delighted and thankful. What John Howe did appears from what I have said already, and shall have to say hereafter. Baxter had become too old and infirm to take any active part in public business. Fairclough, Stancliffe, and Mayo, as we have seen, joined Howe in the clerical address to William on the 21st of December; others presented congratulations afterwards.

If Protestant Nonconformists formed a twentieth part of the population, the community to that extent may be reckoned as rejoicing in the downfall of James; probably by far the larger part supported the claims of William; yet a few old Republicans—Independent and Baptist—would, I apprehend, have preferred to see a Commonwealth, with the Prince of Orange in a presidential chair, such as the Lord Protector Cromwell had occupied.

It is no part of my task to describe minutely the method by which the new settlement was effected: an outline is sufficient. A meeting had been summoned by His Highness for the 26th of December, 1688, to consist, first, of all such persons as had been Knights or Burgesses in any of the Parliaments of Charles II.; and next, of the Lord Mayor and Aldermen of the City of London, with fifty of the Common Council chosen by the whole body. This mode of proceeding appears remarkably conservative, and so far was in harmony with all the great changes wrought in the political government of this country.

When those who formed this meeting mooted the question, “What authority they had to assemble,” they agreed, “that the request of His Highness the Prince was a sufficient warrant,” and proceeded to entrust him[73] with the administration of public affairs until a Convention should be held, which he was to call by writs addressed to the Lords temporal and spiritual, being Protestants, and to the counties, universities, cities, and boroughs of England.[93]

A Convention being elected, the members met on the 22nd of January, 1689. It was composed of Protestants alone. These Protestants being chiefly Whigs, and those Whigs numbering an immense majority of Episcopalians, perhaps not more than twenty Nonconformists were returned—a fact which ought to be carefully borne in mind.

The day on which the Commons assembled, the Lords also appeared, to the number of about ninety, of whom sixteen were spiritual Peers. No prayers were read; the first thing done, after a short letter from the Prince had been laid on the table, was the appointment of a day of solemn thanksgiving.

Eleven Bishops were selected to draw up a form for the purpose, and it does not appear that any of them scrupled to undertake this service.[94] The 30th of January fell on a Sunday; and in such a case it had been arranged that the office for Charles’ martyrdom should be used on that day, and the observances of the fast transferred to the next. On the 30th, however, Evelyn notices that “in all the public offices and pulpit prayers, the collects and litany for the King and Queen were curtailed and mutilated.” On the 31st the thanksgiving set aside the fast. Burnet preached before the Commons, saying, “You feel a great deal, and promise a great deal[74] more; and your are now in the right way to it, when you come with the solemnities of thanksgiving to offer up your acknowledgments to that Fountain of Life to whom you owe this new lease of your own.”[95]

The Bishop of St. Asaph, whose political sympathies have been indicated, was appointed to preach before the Lords at Westminster Abbey on the 31st, but according to Clarendon, Mr. Gee took his place.[96]

The House of Commons, after the customary formalities, and the election of Mr. Powle as Speaker, and an expression of concurrence in the Lords’ order respecting a day of thanksgiving, proceeded, on the 28th, to debate on the state of the nation. Amidst multifarious topics, Popery, the Church, and the divine right of kings were prominent; and the next day Colonel Birch, the Puritan, gave his view of past and present struggles by saying, “These forty years we have been scrambling for our religion, and have saved but little of it. We have been striving against Antichrist, Popery, and Tyranny.”[97]

The House voted that King James II., having endeavoured to subvert the constitution of this kingdom by breaking the original contract between King and people, and, by advice of Jesuits and other wicked persons, having violated the fundamental laws, and withdrawn himself out of the Kingdom, had abdicated the government, and that the throne was thereby vacant. The next day it was resolved that it had been found by experience to be inconsistent with the safety and welfare of this Protestant Kingdom to be governed by a Popish Prince.

Thanks were given to the clergymen who had assailed Popery, and had refused to read the King’s Declaration.[98] Things deemed necessary for better securing religious liberty and law were reported from a Committee, who particularly specified, “effectual provision to be made for the liberty of Protestants in the exercise of their religion, and for uniting all Protestants in the matter of public worship as far as may be”—in which provision, are found germs of the Toleration and Comprehension Bills.

The Lords at once agreed with the Commons in their vote for a Protestant succession; but about the vote declaring the throne vacant, much discussion arose. Without formally admitting that the throne was vacant—only for the present supposing it to be so—they wished to determine, first, whether supreme power for the present ought to be devolved on a Regent or on a King. This point had been keenly debated by Sancroft and his brethren. He was not present now, but they were; and in the minority of 49 for a Regency against 51 for a King, occur the names of thirteen Prelates, including the Bishop of St. Asaph, who in this matter had not been “wheedled” by Burnet, as Clarendon surmised. Indeed, the prejudice conceived against a deposing power, as a Popish art, had so impressed the minds of the Clergy, that no Bishop approved of filling the throne anew, except the Bishops of London and Bristol.[99] The question raised in an abstract form—whether or no there was an original contract between King and people—involved a controversy touching divine right, which most of the Bishops had maintained. For the principle of a social[76] compact, 53 Peers voted against 46, the Bishops being included amongst the latter. The idea of a contract being adopted, nobody could dispute that James had broken it; but the Peers decided to substitute the words, “deserted the Government,” for the Commons’ phrase, “abdicated the Government;” nor would the majority allow the word vacant to stand, inasmuch as, by a constitutional fiction, the King never dies; and in the present case, so some contended, the Crown legitimately devolved upon the Princess of Orange—the claim of the infant Prince of Wales being given up by all parties. The two Houses were thus at issue on a fundamental point; and the London citizens became alarmed. The dispute found its way into the coffee-houses, into groups walking and lounging in the parks, and into private families, Whigs and Tories debating the problem as a vital one. The people assembled at the doors of the Convention to present petitions for the accession of William and Mary to the throne; they loaded with curses members crossing the threshold, or showered upon them benedictions, according as they believed them to stand affected towards the momentous matter in dispute.[100]

A conference ensued between the Houses. The Bishop of Ely strenuously argued against using the word abdication, or regarding the throne as vacant; he hoped that Lords and Commons would agree in this, not to break the line of succession, not to make the Crown elective.[101] He wished to save the divine right. By some persons the idea was entertained of making William sole King—an idea which Burnet resisted, heart and soul, in a conversation held with Bentinck, the Prince’s principal friend.[102] Amidst the heats of this debate, the Prince thought it time for[77] him to express his sentiments. It had been proposed, he said, to settle the Government in the hands of a Regent;—that might be a wise project. It had also been suggested that the Princess should succeed to the throne, and that he, by courtesy, might share in her power. Her rights he would not oppose, her virtues he respected. But for himself, he would accept no dignity dependent upon the life of another, or on the will of a woman. Should either of the schemes be adopted, he would return to Holland, satisfied with the consciousness of having endeavoured to serve England, though in vain.[103]

William’s decision took effect, and the conference ended in dropping what was theoretical, and in coming to a practical resolution—that the Prince and Princess of Orange should be declared King and Queen. The Lords carried this by 62 against 47. Forty of the latter protested, amongst whom were twelve out of the seventeen Bishops present. The five who went with the majority were Compton, Lloyd of St. Asaph, Sprat, Hall, and Crew.[104] Crew, the time-serving Bishop of Durham, had supported James in his obnoxious measures, had fled at the outbreak of the Revolution, had been lurking on the coast for a vessel to convey him abroad, and had returned in time to secure the advantage of supporting the new Sovereign. It has often been said that the Bishops accomplished the Revolution. No doubt the seven imprisoned in the Tower brought on the crisis which terminated in the new settlement, and so far were the authors of the change. Certain of the brethren contributed, in the way I have described, to terminate the despotism of James II., but all the seven decidedly disapproved of the Prince of Orange being constituted King, and two-thirds[78] of the other Bishops agreed with them in this respect.

The Commons would not unite in the settlement approved by the Lords until they had carefully asserted the fundamental principles upon which they based the Revolution. The Declaration of Right, embodying these principles, having recited the unconstitutional acts of James—his endeavours to extirpate the Protestant religion, and to subvert the laws and liberties of the kingdom—goes on to state that the Prince of Orange had summoned the Convention, which Convention did now specify the ancient liberties of the English people. Amongst them appear the right of petition, freedom of Parliamentary debate, and the duty of the Crown frequently to call together the representatives of the people.[105] William and Mary are then solemnly declared to be King and Queen; the succession is determined to be in the issue of the latter; in default of such issue, in Anne of Denmark and her heirs; in default of her issue, then in the heirs of the King.

In this Parliamentary transaction two things appear, which have been ever kept in sight under Anglo-Saxon and Anglo-Norman dynasties, namely, hereditary right and popular election. That the crown should pass from a Monarch to one of his own blood had been a fundamental[79] law from the beginning, modified by a choice of the people in any great crisis, when the interests of the nation have been seen to depend upon the succession of one Royal personage rather than another. In 1688, respect was paid to the ancient tradition. In the Bill of Rights the hereditary claim is distinctly set forth. “It is curious to observe with what address this temporary solution of continuity is kept from the eye, whilst all that could be found in this act of necessity to countenance the idea of an hereditary succession is brought forward and fostered and made the most of.” “The Lords and Commons fall to a pious, legislative ejaculation, and declare that they consider it ‘as a marvellous providence, and merciful goodness of God to this nation, to preserve their said Majesties’ royal persons, most happily to reign over us on the throne of their ancestors, for which, from the bottom of their hearts, they return their humblest thanks and praises.’”[106]

But the election of William and Mary, though veiled under a reference to the throne of their ancestors, is really the point upon which their accession hinged. Mary’s accession might, by those who disbelieved that the Prince of Wales was James’ son, be made to depend entirely on natural descent, but the accession of William could not rest on that ground; his election was essential to the legitimacy of his rights. Yet there was no setting aside of any divine laws, no contempt for the teaching of Scripture, as was pretended by nonjurors. When we are told “the powers that be are ordained of God,” those words invest with divine authority all constitutional governments, whether Monarchical or Republican, whether entirely by descent or wholly by election, or partly by one[80] and partly by the other; they do not apply alone to Kings and their eldest sons. To plead nonjuring interpretations of Scripture in England at the Revolution tended to make men slaves, even as to plead them now in America would make men rebels.

The oaths of allegiance prescribed, as they led to momentous consequences, ought to be given. “I, A. B., do sincerely promise and swear, That I will be faithful, and bear true allegiance to their Majesties King William and Queen Mary. So help me God.” “I, A. B., do swear, That I do from my heart abhor, detest, and abjure, as impious and heretical, this damnable doctrine and position, That Princes excommunicated or deprived by the Pope, or any authority of the See of Rome, may be deposed or murdered by their subjects, or any other whatsoever. And I do declare, That no foreign prince, person, prelate, state or potentate, hath, or ought to have, any jurisdiction, power, superiority, pre-eminence, or authority, ecclesiastical or spiritual, within this realm. So help me God.”[107]

Before the completion of this Parliamentary manifesto, the Princess Mary had come to England; and upon the 13th of February she took her place beside her husband in the Banqueting-house at Whitehall under a canopy of State, when the two Speakers, followed by the Lords and Commons respectively, were conducted into their presence by the Usher of the Black Rod, to offer the Crown upon conditions implied in the Declaration of Rights. When the document had been read, the Prince replied, “This is certainly the greatest proof of the trust you have in us that can be given, which is the thing which makes us value it the more; and we thankfully accept[81] what you have offered to us. And as I had no other intention in coming hither, than to preserve your religion, laws, and liberties, so you may be sure that I shall endeavour to support them, and shall be willing to concur in anything that shall be for the good of the kingdom; and to do all that is in my power to advance the welfare and glory of the nation.” The day on which this tender was accepted, saw once more the gorgeous ceremonial by which Kings and Queens in England had been proclaimed. A long line of coaches passed from Westminster to the City, with a brilliant array of marshals’ men, trumpeters, and heralds. A pause at Temple Bar at the Gates, and then a formal opening took place in due order. The Lord Mayor in a coach, and the Aldermen, Sheriffs, and Recorder on horseback, conducted the Peers and Commons to the middle of Cheapside—the train bands lining the way. Then, after declaring that God had vouchsafed a miraculous deliverance from Popery and arbitrary power through His Highness the Prince of Orange, and after referring to the great and eminent virtue of Her Highness the Princess, whose zeal for the Protestant religion was sure to bring a blessing upon this nation—the heralds proclaimed William and Mary “King and Queen of England, France, and Ireland, with all the dominions and territories thereunto belonging.”[108]

That evening, the Queen sent two of her Chaplains to the Archbishop of Canterbury to beg his blessing; and, by a suspicious combination of two errands, desired them to attend the service in Lambeth Chapel, and notice whether prayers were offered for the Sovereigns. The Chaplain being alarmed, asked His Grace what should be done: he replied, “I have no new instructions to give.”[82] The Chaplain interpreted this as entrusting him with a discretionary power, and, wishing to keep the Primate out of difficulty, prayed for the King and Queen who had just been proclaimed. The act provoked Sancroft, who sent for the Chaplain, and commanded him either to desist from such petitions, or to cease from officiating in Lambeth; for so long as King James lived, no other person could be Sovereign of England. Sancroft’s conviction that a Regency was the right thing seems to have deepened, when in the opinion of everybody else it passed utterly out of the question; for the Primate had a temper which increased in obstinacy in proportion as the object pursued became unattainable.

The appointment of officers of State immediately followed the accession to the throne. The reader will bear in mind what has been said in former volumes respecting the mode of administering affairs in the Stuart reigns. No Ministry, in our sense of the term, existed then, men of different political opinions being employed as functionaries of Government. This usage survived the Revolution; and William surrounded himself with Whigs and Tories. Reserving to himself the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, he appointed as President of the Council the Earl of Danby, although that nobleman differed from him in many opinions. Danby had countenanced encroachments by the Royal prerogatives; he had even maintained the doctrine of passive obedience. That doctrine he was now, through the necessities of the times, forced to abandon, and by serving under a Monarch whose throne rested on the Declaration of Rights, he virtually repudiated his earlier opinions. He had also persecuted Dissenters—a policy now professedly abandoned. Yet there remained in Lord Danby a strong attachment to high ecclesiastical views, and he was[83] zealous for the old connection between Church and Crown as the best method of preserving both. Halifax, described as the Trimmer,[109] had become more of a Liberal, and to him was entrusted the Privy Seal and the Speakership of the Upper House. The Earl of Nottingham—another deserter from the Tory ranks—professed that although his principles did not allow him to take part in making William King, they bound him, now that the deed was done, to pay His Majesty a more strict obedience than he could expect from those who had made him Sovereign. He accepted the office of a Secretary of State—an act which, like that of Danby, served to give weight to the new administration in the eyes of Tories and High Churchmen. Shrewsbury, a popular Whig, and a young man of twenty-eight, was the other Secretary. The Great Seal came into the hands of Commissioners, the chief of whom was Sir John Maynard, who had upheld the Petition of Rights in 1628, had voted with the country party in the struggles preceding the Civil Wars, had subscribed the League and Covenant, and had advised Cromwell to accept the Crown. He was ninety years of age, and when presented to William at Whitehall the Prince remarked, he must have survived all the lawyers of his time. He replied, “he had like to have outlived the law itself, if His Highness had not come over.”[110] The Treasury fell into the hands of Whigs, amongst whom was Godolphin, the husband of Margaret Blagge, a man of practical ability, but of no fixed principle, a staunch Churchman, yet one of a class that could live amongst Jesuits under King James, and could keep on terms with Presbyterians under King William.

This administration—a Joseph’s coat of many colours—proceeded[84] from a compromise which under existing circumstances seemed unavoidable. Intended to please different parties, it actually displeased them—a fact soon manifested. But no political appointment aroused so much criticism as the nomination of Burnet to the See of Salisbury. That See had become vacant through the death of Seth Ward; and it was the first piece of ecclesiastical preferment of which William had to dispose after his accession to the throne. The nomination of Bishops in our own time has occasionally provoked immense discussion, but perhaps nobody ever stepped up to the Episcopal Bench amidst such showers of abuse as Gilbert Burnet. To select a High Churchman would have been inconsistent and disastrous; and amongst eligible Low Churchmen, no one had such strong claims upon William as the friend whom he and his wife had consulted at the Hague, the Chaplain who had come with his Fleet, the Secretary who had drawn up his Declarations, and the clergyman who had advocated his cause from the pulpit. But the very grounds upon which rested Burnet’s claims made him the more objectionable to many. These grounds were decidedly political, yet though many a Bishop has been appointed for political reasons, the services now enumerated were not exactly such as to indicate qualification for the office of a spiritual overseership. At the same time it is unfair to Burnet’s memory not to say, that he was a man of piety, Protestant zeal, varied learning, large experience, and indefatigable industry. At a later period, after time had worn down the asperities of the controversy, a mitre could with much propriety have been given him; but it was scarcely in accordance with William’s policy in political appointments to bestow it at once upon one who had obtrusively acted as a partisan, and inspired so much dislike in the opposite party. It[85] should be further stated that many Churchmen were deeply offended at Burnet’s elevation, because they had a strong aversion to what they call his Latitudinarian and Low Church views. Consequently, when it came to the point of sanctioning by consecration the Royal nominee, a difficulty arose. The Dean and Chapter of Salisbury were as prompt to elect as the King to propose; but the Archbishop of Canterbury no sooner heard of the congé d’élire, than he refused to engage in the requisite solemnity. Burnet himself goes so far as to say that Sancroft refused even to see him on the subject.[111] No friendly influence could induce the Primate to swerve from his determination; but by an evasion, such as unfortunately too often commends itself to clerical judgments, he resolved to grant a commission for others to do what he declined to do himself. The Vicar-General appeared, produced the commission, and through his officers received the usual fees. To make the matter worse, when the Archbishop’s conduct was complained of by his own party, either he, or some one in his name, contrived to abstract the document from the Registrar’s office; and it could not be recovered until after Sancroft’s death, when Burnet threatened to commence legal proceedings for obtaining what was necessary to prove the validity of his consecration and his right to the Bishopric.[112]

Some Churchmen soon manifested their dissatisfaction with the turn affairs had taken; and Maynard, the first Commissioner of the Great Seal, remarked, in a debate upon making the Convention a Parliament, “There is a great danger in sending out writs at this time, if you consider what a ferment the nation is in; and I think the Clergy are out of their wits, and I believe, if the Clergy[86] should have their wills, few or none of us should be here again.” The remark brought up Sir Thomas Clarges, who defended the Ministers in the Metropolis, and praised the Church as a bulwark during the late trials. “Clarges speaks honestly,” replied Maynard, “as I believe he thinks. As for the Clergy, I have much honour for High and Low of them; but I must say they are in a ferment—there are pluralists among them, and when they should preach the Gospel, they preach against the Parliament and the law of England.”[113] At a moment when some showed dissatisfaction towards William, and the highest legal officer of the Crown thus talked about Churchmen, Lord Danby complained to His Majesty that he did all he could to encourage Presbyterians, and to dishearten Episcopalians—a circumstance which, he said, could not fail to be prejudicial to his Government and to himself.[114] It is certain that no sooner had William as King of England grasped the reins, than intrigues became rife; thoughts arose of bringing back James, and men in office began to express a want of confidence in the New Settlement. Halifax muttered something to the effect that if the exiled King were a Protestant, he could not be kept out four months; and Danby, that if the exile would but give satisfaction as to Religion, “it would be very hard to make head against him.”[115]

Still, however, a large number of Clergymen not only accepted the new order of things, but heartily espoused the cause of the new dynasty. Besides those dignitaries who assisted in raising William and Mary to the throne, many in the lower ranks, by exhortations from the pulpit, arguments from the press, and the exercise of private[87] influence, sought to gather up popular affection, and weave it around the chosen occupants of the throne. It may be worth while to mention that Samuel Wesley, Rector of Epworth, the father of John, founder of Methodism, states that he wrote and printed the first publication which appeared in defence of the Government; and he also composed “many little pieces more, both in prose and verse, with the same view.”[116]

In the laws respecting oaths at the period of the Revolution, certain changes took place, which from their religions aspect demand our notice.

The new Oath of Allegiance prescribed by the Declaration of Rights differed from the old Oaths of Allegiance imposed by statute law. To make this change perfectly constitutional, and to secure entire uniformity in the expression of loyal obedience, it was necessary to pass an Act abolishing ancient forms, and determining the circumstances under which a new one should be enforced. Leave having been granted in the House of Commons upon the 25th of February to bring in such a measure, upon the 16th of March the Solicitor-General reported amendments made in the Bill, and upon the 18th of the same month the Bill passed the House. Being sent up to the Lords, it was read by them a second time only, attention becoming absorbed by another Bill for the same purpose, originating in their own House, and on the 25th sent down to the Commons, by whom it was immediately read, and committed on the 28th. The Journals of the two Houses for the month of April abound in notices of debates, amendments, protests, reports, and conferences in reference to this question. Its religious bearings were twofold.

The Bill first provided that the new oaths should be taken by all persons holding office in the Church of England and the two Universities. No one could sit on the Prelates’ bench, or perform the duties of a Diocesan; no one could enjoy a benefice, or minister in a parish church; no one could be the head of a House, or possess a fellowship at Oxford or Cambridge, who did not “sincerely promise and swear to bear true allegiance to their Majesties King William and Queen Mary.” Looking at the baronial and legislative character of Bishops; at the dependence of many Ecclesiastical preferments on the Crown; at the national character of the Universities; and at the relation of the whole body of the Established Clergy to the Government, there appears the same reason for enacting a declaration of loyalty from them as from officers in the army and navy. To have excepted the Church from the obligations of the oath, would have been to make an invidious distinction between classes of the community bound by manifold political ties, and it would have been liable to the interpretation that the Government, conscious of weakness, felt afraid of the Clergy. Besides, if there be any binding form in oaths—if they afford any security at all for the stability of a throne, they certainly needed, in a pre-eminent degree at that time, to be enforced upon all Ecclesiastical persons, when so many of them were known to be disaffected to the reigning Sovereigns. The difficulty expressed by disaffected Clergymen in reference to the new oaths rested mainly on two grounds. Those of them who had already sworn allegiance to King James could not reconcile it with their consciences to put aside those vows, and to adopt opposite ones. In this respect, however, their case was no worse than that of civilians and military men, though no appeals for their relief were ever urged. An officer of the Customs, or the captain of[90] a regiment, might very well feel the same scruples as troubled the Rector of a parish, or the Dean of a cathedral; and if exceptions of this sort were once begun, where were they to end? What could not at the time fail to be noticed, and now must strike every reader, is, that the men who showed so much sensitiveness with respect to their former oaths, were, many of them, the very same persons, and all of them belonged to the same class, as those who had treated with contempt or indifference like difficulties on the part of Presbyterians at the time of the Restoration. Yet what was required now cannot be made to appear so harsh as what had been required before. An Episcopalian Clergyman had only to promise allegiance to the persons who occupied the throne, without expressing any abstract opinion on the subject; whereas, a Presbyterian Clergyman had not only been required to swear allegiance to Charles II., which he was willing to do, but had been also required to swear that his previous oath was unlawful; and to declare, moreover, that the doctrine of resisting a despotic king is a position to be held in abhorrence. An express denunciation of former oaths had been required at the Restoration; only a practical relinquishment of former oaths was required at the Revolution. The law of 1662 had told the Presbyterian he must denounce the doctrine of resistance—the law of 1689 did not tell the Episcopalian he must denounce the doctrine of the Divine right of Kings. At the earlier era a political dogma had been imposed as a requisite for clerical office; at the later era no political dogma was imposed at all. Conscience is sacred; yet whilst I give credit to Clergymen who scrupled to swear allegiance to the new dynasty, I cannot discover the reasonableness of their scruples. If any of them did not hold the Divine right of Kings, it is hard to discern[91] any plausible ground for refusing to transfer allegiance according to the terms of the new oath; if they did hold the Divine right of Kings—and therefore preferred a Regency to a change in the succession, as was the case with Sancroft—still it appears that they might, consistently with their abstract principle, have sworn to obey a de facto potentate. At any rate, their difficulties were less than the difficulties of their Nonconforming brethren seven-and-twenty years before. Then High Churchmen treated mountains as molehills,—now they magnified molehills into mountains.

The second source of clerical resistance is found in the sacredness of clerical character, and the indelibility of clerical orders. Adherence to the supposed rights of the King in exile rarely existed, except in the case of High Churchmen. A belief of the Divine rights of princes entwined itself round a belief in the Divine right of priests. A notion that Monarchs should be independent of Parliaments, associated itself with a notion that Ministers of religion should be independent of human law.

Sovereigns could not be made and unmade by subjects, neither could Clergymen be made or unmade by States, therefore such a law as that now enacted became, in a spiritual point of view, futile, impertinent, even impious. A strange confusion of truth and error obtained throughout this reasoning of the Nonjurors. No doubt the Church, as a Divine community, is independent of human governments. The pastors and teachers are not the creatures of the Civil power, they are in the hands of Him who walks amidst the golden candlesticks. Of spiritual office and character the Civil power is not competent to denude any servant of Christ. But when chief Ministers of the Church are amongst chief officers of State, when Bishops[92] are Peers, and Clergymen have legally-vested rights, the case is different. Church temporalities are from first to last the creations of secular government; and the authority which gives can take away. Parliament had no business to alter the religious position of Ministers, but it had a right to impose conditions, for its own safety, upon those who added to the character of Ministers that of political legislators and officers of a nationally-endowed Church. Erastianism had been predominant under Charles II. It had lingered under James II. It was to be revived and to be manifested, in some respects more distinctly than ever, under William III.; but, at the Revolution, many who had been Erastian enough through the previous quarter of a century, began to be restless and to sigh for emancipation. Circumstances made them voluntaries in practice, although circumstances did not make them voluntaries in principle. As time rolled on, the doctrine of the Church’s independence came more distinctly within view, notwithstanding their blindness to its consequences; and the assertion of that independency increased in earnestness after the rupture, of which I shall have much to say.

A further religious complication of the measure under review arose in connection with its first appearance in the House of Commons, and was renewed in the course of its progress through the House of Lords. It requires attention. Upon the 25th of February, the day when leave was given to bring in the Bill for changing the oath, leave was also given to bring in a Bill for repealing the Corporation Act. The Corporation Act, the reader will remember, enjoined the repudiation of the doctrine of resistance, the renunciation of the Solemn League and Covenant, and the receiving of the Lord’s Supper, as a qualification for municipal office. It had been a blow[93] aimed at Nonconformists; now that the justice of affording them some relief was acknowledged by the Whig party, it seemed only consistent that this statute should be extinguished. In a debate which arose at the time when the two Bills originated, one member maintained that the Corporation Act “had as much intrinsic iniquity as any Act whatsoever,” and that it profaned the Sacrament; another—who said he had been educated for the Church, and would live and die in it—advocated the repeal of the Act; but a third contended for the continuance of conformity as essential to the holding of a public trust, and proposed that the oath of non-resistance, instead of being taken away, should be explained. All this ended in nothing. Soon after the Bill was brought in, it was, through party complications, set aside on a question of adjournment;[117] and the inconsistency arose of a Government, plainly based upon Revolution, and therefore upon resistance, being left to enforce a principle destructive of its own authority; the inconsistency, moreover, was associated with injustice and ingratitude towards a party zealous in its support. High Church Tories of course wished to preserve the Corporation Act, and contributed to its preservation; Low Church Whigs, though willing to relieve Nonconformists, still wished to keep Nonconformity in check, and manifested no zeal for the removal of an engine of intolerance, which lasted down even to our own times.

Efforts in favour of Nonconformists having thus failed in the Lower House, like movements were uselessly made in the Upper. The King, in a speech delivered on the 16th of March, emphatically recommended Parliament to provide against Papists, so as to “leave room for the[94] admission of all Protestants that are willing and able to serve.”[118] In these words he showed his desire for the alteration of the Test Act. The Test Act had been passed to exclude Papists from holding civil office; and, zealous for the accomplishment of that end, Nonconformists had supported it at the sacrifice of their own interests. There were members in the House of Lords prepared to carry out the King’s wishes. They desired to render all Protestant citizens eligible to serve the State; during the progress of the Allegiance Bill, they supported the introduction of a clause for abolishing the sacramental test. But the Tory Lords were too numerous to allow of its being passed; and some Whig Peers, including the puritan Lord Wharton, recorded a protest against the rejection of the clause. They protested for these reasons—Because a hearty alliance amongst Protestants was a greater security than any test: because the obligation to receive the Sacrament operated against Protestants rather than Papists: because it prevented a thorough Protestant union: and because, what was not required of members of Parliament, ought not to be required of candidates for office. Not discouraged by defeat, one of the Lords proposed another clause, the object of which was to render the celebration of the Lord’s Supper in a Nonconformist place of worship legally equivalent to its celebration in a parish church. This, like the former attempt, failed; and again we find a protest recorded in the Journals, Lord Wharton being again among the protesters. In this protest they amplify what they had said before, and introduce this additional reason—that His Majesty had expressed an earnest desire for the liberty of all his Protestant subjects, and that divers Bishops had professed[95] the same. The majority of the Lords, in the rejection of clauses for the partial repeal of the Test Act, proceeded on the same line with the majority of the Commons, in getting rid of the repeal of the Corporation Act.[119] But another wish rose in the King’s mind, which received support from a majority in the Upper House. It is very well known that he desired to treat the Clergy in general with great lenience, and to make as much allowance as possible for nonjuring scruples. By conceding so much to the High Church party, he aimed at reconciling them to those concessions which, on the other side, he longed to see granted to Nonconformists. He could not secure the latter concessions, but he easily secured the former. The policy of the Lords, both Whig and Tory, both Low Church and High Church, was to discountenance Nonconformity, and to maintain the Episcopalian Establishment; the policy of the High Church Peers was to support those Clergymen with whom they sympathized in Ecclesiastical views, and to relieve them from the pressure of the new oaths; and the policy of the Whig Low Church Peers was to conciliate the same party as much as possible. Even Burnet, just exalted to the Bench, took part in a debate before his consecration, advocating a mild arrangement of the matter in reference to his scrupulous brethren.[120] It followed that the Bill left the Lords with a provision allowing every beneficed divine to continue in his benefice without taking the oath, unless the Government saw reason for putting his loyalty to the test. Upon this point the temper of the Lower House differed from that of the Upper. They inserted in the Bill a clause rendering it absolutely incumbent on every one holding preferment to take the oath by the[96] 1st of August, 1689, under pain of immediate suspension—by the end of six months afterwards, upon pain of final deprivation.[121] With that claim embodied in it, the Bill went back to the Lords. They fought for their own gentler method. Conferences were held between the Houses: compromises were suggested: reports were made: debates were renewed; but the Lords could not stand against the Commons, and the stringent method insisted upon by the latter became the law of the land.

The Whig majority in the House of Commons were as zealous as the Tory majority in the House of Lords in maintaining the Church of England, but they were utterly averse to the secular and ecclesiastical politics of that party, which the project of William, supported by the Peers, sought to win over by conciliation. They could not forget the support that party had rendered to the Stuart despotism, their opposition to the Exclusion Bill, their intolerant despotism, and their steady opposition to the Whig Commons. They could not favour High Church views, they had no notion of the Church being independent of the State. If the Clergy received honours and emoluments from the Civil power, then to the Civil power they must, like other subjects, yield obedience. The spirit of the House was Erastian; and no doubt passion mingled with principle—resentment with the maintenance of supremacy.

The Oaths of Allegiance had at an early period been readily taken by the Commons, only two of them refusing to swear. In the other House a vast majority of the lay and spiritual Lords had complied with the law, but certain Bishops had been incapacitated, or were reluctant in compliance; others altogether refused to submit to[97] authority. In the Journal of the Lords for the 18th of March, amongst notices of absence, we find the Bishop of Coventry and Lichfield described as “ill of the strangury and the stone;” the Bishop of Worcester as “weak in body,” and very aged; and the Bishop of St. David’s as writing a letter of excuse, not at all satisfactory. This last Prelate, who had for some time been mistrusted by his brethren, consulted Sir John Reresby, who told him to fall back on his own conscience. The next day the Bishop took the oath.[122] But the Primate Sancroft, Lake of Chichester, Turner of Ely, Lloyd of Norwich, Ken of Bath and Wells, Frampton of Gloucester, White of Peterborough, and Thomas of Worcester, steadily refused, and came forward as vanguard to that body of which we shall have more to say hereafter.

The oath was taken by the Clergy in various ways. Some, who objected to its being imposed, felt they could adopt it conscientiously. Some questioned the lawfulness of it, and did not blame the Nonjurors, but themselves took the benefit of the doubt. Some swore with a certain reserve, expressing the sense in which they explained the obligation with “an implicit relaxation” of the meaning of the words. Others, at a loss to determine the point, yielded to the opinions of lawyers and divines.[123]

The Coronation Oath came under consideration at the same time as the Oath of Allegiance, and, like it, occasioned great discussion. The oath pledged the Sovereign to preserve the Church “as it is now established by law;” and the Commons were thereby led to inquire into the exact meaning of the words, whether they affected in any way the question of introducing changes, such as many most earnestly desired. Some, who longed for an[98] alteration in the formularies, were anxious that, instead of the words “Church as it is now established by law,” should be the words, “Church as it is, or shall be, established by law,” thus expressly providing for new arrangements. It was contended that the Church doors ought to be made wider, that it might be easily done, and that in anticipation of this, the proposed alteration in the oath should be accomplished. Before—some argued—it did not much matter how the Coronation Oath ran, but it did now that a King occupied the throne, who might say, “I do not understand what is meant by law.” They urged no wish for any change in doctrines, but only for change in ceremonies, and they felt unwilling that the Coronation Oath should preclude the latter. Moreover, they desired to prevent any taunt from foreign Protestants of the following kind—“Your Parliament has limited you to a Church unalterable, and will let in nobody.” Some of those who objected to the additional words replied, that their omission would not be any bar to reform; that Parliament had power to alter laws; that, consistently with the maintenance of Protestant doctrine, there might be the relaxation of certain forms; that essentials being preserved, non-essentials could be removed; and that tender consciences could be brought in at a door without pulling down the rafters to let them through the roof. Though a rider to the effect, that no clause in the Act should prevent the Sovereign from giving assent to a Bill for Church Reform was not formally adopted, yet it was at length clearly understood that the oath did not fetter the Sovereign in any act of legislative concurrence, but only bound him in his executive capacity; the original words therefore were sanctioned by a majority of 188 against 149.[124]

The Coronation, for which this oath prepared, took place on the 11th of April, when both political parties in unequal proportions participated in the solemnities. Tory and Jacobite Lords, who had voted for a Regency, increased the magnificence—one carrying the crown of the King, another the crown of the Queen, and a third the sword of Justice; whilst a fourth rode up the middle of Westminster Hall, as champion for William and Mary against all comers. Noble damsels of both classes appeared in large numbers and dazzling splendour to swell the retinue, or to watch the movements of the Regnant Queen; and amongst them walked the pretty little Lady Henrietta, daughter of the Earl of Rochester, who had persistently opposed the idea that the throne was vacated by the departure of James. The nonjuring Prelates would take no part in the ceremonies; the absence of the Primate was a serious circumstance, but, by a clause in the Coronation Act, the King had authority to chose some other Bishop for the principal ceremony of the day. Accordingly he chose Compton, Bishop of London, to place the crown upon his head. This Low Churchman and staunch Revolutionist was accompanied by Prelates of different characters: Lloyd of St. Asaph, one of the seven who had been sent to the Tower, walked on the one hand, holding the paten; Sprat of Rochester, who had been a member of the High Commission, walked on the other, carrying the chalice; and Burnet of Salisbury ascended the pulpit to deliver a sermon, of which the peroration, imploring the blessing of Heaven on the King and Queen in this life, and the bestowment upon them in the life to come of crowns more enduring than those on the altar, excited a hum of applause from the Commons, who were seated behind it. For the first time the Coronation occurred[100] neither on a Sunday nor a holiday; and for the first time really in accordance with a precedent set at Cromwell’s installation, a Bible was presented to the Sovereigns as “the most valuable thing that this world contains;” and it would appear that the identical volume still exists, for one of the treasures of the Royal Library at the Hague is a Bible, inscribed with these words: “This Book was given the King and I at our Coronation. Marie R.” The event was celebrated in the provinces; garlands adorned with oranges were carried about the streets of country towns, amidst the beating of drums, the pealing of bells, and the huzzas of the people, followed at night by the blazing of bonfires.[125]

As the great Revolution under William I. was perfected by the Coronation at Westminster on Christmas-day, 1066, so the great Revolution under William III. was perfected by the Coronation in the same place on the 11th of April, 1689. In both cases certain religious rites were necessary to the completeness of the new Monarch’s inauguration, but in both cases they were celebrated only as a solemn ratification of a choice made by the national voice. It is curious to notice, that in addition to the coincidence of names in the case of the authors of the two most momentous revolutionary successions to the English crown, there is a further coincidence: each arrived on the southern shores of England as an invader, and then became the choice of the people; and neither of them rested on the right of conquest as the basis of power.

At the time when the Allegiance and Coronation Oaths were under discussion, two other important subjects, immediately[101] connected with Ecclesiastical History, occupied Parliamentary attention. The one was the widening of admission into the Church, the other was the concession to Dissenters of liberty to worship according to conviction: both measures had been repeatedly taken up and repeatedly laid down during the reign of Charles II.

The Primate Sancroft, it is alleged,[126] looked favourably in that direction, amidst the excitement to liberal feeling, which sprung up on the eve of the Revolution: certainly at the beginning of the year 1689, Lloyd, the Bishop of St. Asaph, Tillotson, Dean of Canterbury, Sharp, Dean of Norwich, and Dr. Tenison, met at the house of Stillingfleet, Dean of St. Paul’s, as we are informed by Patrick, Prebendary of Westminster—who was present on the occasion—to consult about such concessions as might bring in Dissenters to communion, “for which,” Patrick says, “the Bishop of St. Asaph told us, he had the Archbishop of Canterbury’s leave. We agreed that a Bill should be prepared, to be offered by the Bishops, and we drew up the matter of it in ten or eleven heads.”[127] Coincident with the time when such proposals were sufficiently matured to be laid before Parliament, but not coincident with the particular purpose and method which these and other Divines had in view, was the publication of a draft, by some irresponsible person, for the universal accommodation of Dissenters, and the bringing of all parties into communion with the Established Church. This scheme, which bore the title of an amicable reconciliation, soon dropped into the limbo of quixotic[102] plans, but it made some noise at the time, and is sufficiently curious to be worth a few words.

Amidst existing religious differences the principle is laid down that as there is one Catholic Church under Christ, so there must be many local Churches framed after some type of political organization. The Church of England is of the latter kind, placed under the government of King and Bishops. This Church requires a change. It wants comprehensiveness. Now, a distinction exists between tolerable and intolerable religions. Intolerable religions are set aside, but all tolerable religions, it is affirmed, ought not only to be legalized, but incorporated in the Establishment. Bishops should be King’s officers, to act circa sacra; and those now called Dissenters should be eligible for such an office, with power to supervise all parties, in order to the keeping of them in harmony with their own principles, so as not to disturb the peace of others.[128] This scheme included a provision that Ecclesiastical laws should be enacted by a Convocation, including non-episcopal members, or by the two Houses of Parliament.

A Bill “for uniting their Majesties’ Protestant subjects” was introduced in the House of Lords by the Earl of Nottingham on the 11th of March, and that day received its first reading. Upon the 14th it was read a second time and committed; and at the same sitting there was introduced[103] by the same nobleman, and entrusted to the same Committee, another Bill, entitled “An Act for exempting their Majesties’ Protestant subjects, dissenting from the Church of England, from the penalties of certain laws.” Two measures, intimately connected with each other, and embodying opinions and wishes long cherished, were thus launched side by side, destined to meet different fates. Debated by the Lords with considerable sharpness, the Bill for uniting Protestants was narrowly watched by people outside, of different sentiments; and when no regular system existed for reporting speeches, fragments of senatorial oratory were casually picked up and preserved from oblivion by diarists and others; a person who looked at the subject from a dissenting point of view thus recorded what he learnt:

The Bill was thought by some not “large enough to comprehend the sober sort of Dissenters, for it did not grant to them some of the great points they had always and still did insist upon; and if it were thought the true interest of the Church and State to comprehend them, they must enlarge that Bill.”

The Bishop of Lincoln considered ordination by Presbyters to be good and sufficient, and in order to the taking of them in, it was not necessary there should be the imposition of Episcopal hands.

The Marquis of Winchester, fervent for Comprehension, as conducive to the interest of the Church, was unconcerned for the Bill of Indulgence, since “that would but nourish Church snakes and vipers in the bosom of the Church.”[129]

Early in the month of April we find the Lords busy[104] with the Comprehension Bill. Upon the 4th, they were engaged upon the question, “Whether to agree with the Committee in leaving out the clause about the indifferency of the posture at the receiving the Sacrament?” The votes being equal, the Journal records, “Then, according to the ancient rule in the like case, semper præsumitur pro negante,” that is to say, the question as to leaving out the clause was decided in the negative, and therefore the clause remained. “There was a proviso likewise in the Bill for dispensing with kneeling at the Sacrament and being baptized with the sign of the cross, to such as, after conference on those heads, should solemnly protest they were not satisfied as to the lawfulness of them. That concerning kneeling occasioned a vehement debate; for the posture being the chief exception that the Dissenters had, the giving up this was thought to be the opening a way for them to come into employments. Yet it was carried in the House of Lords, and I declared myself zealous for it. For since it was acknowledged that the posture was not essential in itself, and that scruples, how ill grounded soever, were raised upon it, it seemed reasonable to leave the matter as indifferent in its practice, as it was in its nature.”[130]

On the next day another debate rose on an important point. It was proposed that a Commission should be appointed, including laymen as well as clergymen, to[105] prepare some plan for healing divisions, correcting errors, and supplying defects in the constitution of the Church. Burnet, adopting the questionable policy of striving to please opponents, and bring them to adopt a comprehensive scheme by humouring their prejudice—a policy of which he afterwards repented—argued against the proposed Commission, and upon the question being put, strangely enough, there was again an equality of votes. The same rule as before was followed, and a negative being put on the proposition, the Marquis of Winchester and the Lords Mordaunt and Lovelace entered their protest against it as contrary to the constitution, inconsistent with Protestantism, inexpedient as to the end proposed, likely to create jealousies, to raise objections, and to countenance the dangerous position that the laity were not a part of the Church. The Earl of Stamford added a distinct protest, on the further ground, that to refuse laymen a place in such a Commission was opposed to statutes of Parliament in the reigns of Henry VIII. and Edward VI., which empowered a mixed Commission to revise the Canon law.

The Comprehension Bill, with these modifications, passed the House of Lords on the 8th of April, and was sent down to the House of Commons.[131]

Strange again—the fact has been overlooked by our principal modern historians—before the Lords’ Bill reached the Commons, the Commons were engaged upon a Comprehension Bill of their own, and upon a Toleration Bill likewise. The day which saw the Lords reading the former of these for the third time, saw the Commons also reading a similar one of their own for the first time, and granting leave to bring in another[106] Bill, as the phrase went, for “easing of Protestant Dissenters.”

But the party in the Commons earnest for Comprehension, had to row against wind and tide. One member desired the new Bill might be adjourned for a fortnight; another wished to put it off till Domesday. Old Colonel Birch impugned the motives of those who opposed the measure by mentioning the names of two members in the last Long Parliament, who had objected to a similar proposal, and who proved afterwards to be Papists in disguise.[132]

Whilst the two Bills for Comprehension lay upon the Commons’ table, the Commons concurred with the House of Lords in an address expressing gratitude for His Majesty’s repeated assurances to maintain the Church of England, and praying that he would continue his care for the preservation of the same; and that, according to ancient practice, he would issue writs as soon as convenient for calling a Convocation of the Clergy, to be advised with in Ecclesiastical matters. “It is our intention,” they add, “forthwith to proceed to the consideration of giving ease to Protestant Dissenters.”[133][107] The reference here is to what is called the Toleration Bill.

By the Parliamentary address to the King, requesting him to summon Convocation for advice in Ecclesiastical matters, the Lords and Commons foreclosed the possibility of doing any more at present in reference to Comprehension. The two Bills on the subject were shelved, and debates on the point dropped in both Houses.[134]

At whose door lay the responsibility of defeating this particular attempt at the solution of a long-agitated question? The responsibility must be divided. It is difficult to get at a thorough knowledge of the views and aims of different parties interested in the subject. The spirit of intrigue, a habit of insincerity, and an employment of double-dealing, which cast such thick clouds around what was in many respects a “glorious Revolution,” influenced the minds of those who took part in the proceedings. Credit may be given to such men as Compton, Burnet, and others, for an honest intention to promote union; but I am at a loss to understand the Earl of Nottingham,[135] who introduced the Bill to the Lords, and who, being a High Churchman, must, one would suppose, have been inimical to at least some of its provisions. Still more difficult is it to understand[108] the conduct of certain nonjuring Bishops, who, before they withdrew from the House, moved in favour of a comprehension, as well as the connivance of Sancroft, in allowing his name to be mentioned in connection with it. Reresby says some of the Prelates who supported the Bill did so more from fear than inclination;[136] and Burnet declares, “those who had moved for this Bill, and afterwards brought it into the House, acted a very disingenuous part; for while they studied to recommend themselves by this show of moderation, they set on their friends to oppose it; and such as were very sincerely and cordially for it, were represented as the enemies of the Church, who intended to subvert it.”[137]

As to the Nonjurors, it was believed at the time that they would not have been dissatisfied if any innovation upon forms, or any encroachment on clerical authority, had furnished a pretext for dividing the Church. But this belief was indignantly denounced afterwards as utterly false by one of the Nonjurors.[138] The whole atmosphere seems to have been laden with duplicity; and when the measure came down to the Lower House, with the apparent sanction of the Upper, there is reason to believe that if not the parents, yet the nurses and sponsors of the Bill had no objection to have the child perish in its cradle. Some, charged with this kind of infidelity, excused themselves on the ground of what they called the manifest partiality shown by certain of the Court Lords to the Dissenters.[139]

The objections offered by some of the Lords related to the details, not to the principle of the Bill, and no formal opposition seems to have been made to it by the[109] Commons. They had appeared at first friendly enough to the general measure, and when they abandoned it, they did so under cover of desiring a meeting of Convocation, which might efficiently deal with the subject. The hapless infant died, not from violence, but neglect; not through blows dealt by an open enemy, but from want of nursing on the part of those pledged to cherish it.

The treachery, or apathy, of the Commons can be accounted for when we remember the character of the House and the circumstances of the times: as we have seen, but few Nonconformists—not more than twenty or thirty Presbyterians—could be counted among the members. The vast majority were Churchmen—some, Tory Churchmen, looking with a sinister eye upon the whole affair; some, Whig Churchmen, liberal in a limited degree, but opposed to the principle of Dissent: they cared much more for the Episcopalian Establishment than for what was called the Protestant Religion; they had little or no sympathy with the religious sentiments of the Nonconformists; they were unable to enter into their scruples; they were afraid that concession might endanger their own community; and they looked with apprehension upon the nonjuring movement. Much mischief was foreboded from that quarter, should such alterations be made as would countenance the idea that the Establishment under William and Mary was giving up its Episcopalian distinctions. Such an idea would strengthen the counter schism; for the Nonjurors might be expected to make capital out of the circumstance, and claim no small honour for maintaining Episcopalianism in its integrity. Another circumstance doubtless contributed to the turn affairs took in the Lower House.

Dissenters were not of one mind. Philip Henry earnestly desired Comprehension, “for never,” says his[110] son, “was any more averse to that which looked like a separation than he was, if he could possibly have helped it—salvâ conscientiâ. His prayers were constant, and his endeavours, as he had opportunity, that there might be some healing methods found out and agreed upon.”[140] It would also have delighted Richard Baxter in his last days to see the door opened as wide as he had long before desired it should be. Bates would have been much pleased. The same may be said of Howe. But many were of a different mind.[141] The Nonconformist advocates of Comprehension belonged chiefly to the Presbyterian Church. Almost all Independents and Baptists felt it impossible for any alterations to be made such as could allow of their becoming parochial incumbents. More than a few had long been voluntaries, numbers were beginning to look in a direction opposite to that of an Establishment.[142] Selfishness has been assigned as a[111] motive. “Some few pastors of wealthy congregations might be tempted to desire a continuance of the distance between Dissenters and Churchmen.” Yet Churchmen entertained “more charitable thoughts of sincere Dissenters.” The balance of temporal advantages certainly inclined on the side of a nationally-endowed Church, rich in tithes and other revenues, richer still in rank and prestige. However, it is unfair to suppose that, except in very rare instances indeed, an eye to income retained men in Nonconformist positions. Beyond all doubt, had Dissenting ministers been generally zealous in supporting the measure, they would have been charged by their neighbours with looking after the loaves and fishes. Where, however, no love of this world influenced the decision, the decision might be influenced by prejudice and suspicion; for persons must have been[112] more or less than human, who, after such treatment as they had received for thirty years, could be free from all passionate emotion in estimating the conduct of those who had been either bitter persecutors or unconcerned witnesses of wrong. The motives of Churchmen at the Revolution would not always be fairly weighed by Dissenters. Suspicion, where it could not be justified, may still be condoned, looking at the antecedents of the case; and where there was not sufficient ground for imputing dishonourable motives to Churchmen, there might be enough to lead Nonconformists to suspect, that no warm welcome would be afforded them within the Establishment, even should the iron gates unfold. When reports of Comprehension were rife at an earlier period, an old story had been told to this effect: Sancho the Third, King of Spain, put aside his brother’s children that he might ascend the throne. A lady who was the representative and heir of the dispossessed line of Princes married the Duke of Medina Celi, who assumed the rights of his wife. He and his descendants accordingly presented a petition to the Sovereign that he would restore the crown—a petition to which he gave the reply, “No es lugar,” “There is no room.” This story had been applied by Presbyterians to the abeyance in which their claims to Church readmission had been held for more than a quarter of a century. “So our just liberty is talked of,” says Newcome, of Manchester, “by fits in course; and in course doft off with No es lugar, There is no room.”[143] It was thought the story remained as applicable after the Revolution as before.

This fact should be remembered. Comprehension became to all parties more and more difficult, and to[113] some parties less and less desirable, as time rolled on. However hard it might be to effect a reconciliation, looking at the temper of Churchmen in 1662, it became harder in 1689, looking at the position of Dissenters. They had increased in numbers, had formed themselves into distinct Churches, had obtained their own ordained ministers, and had begun to create an ecclesiastical history, and to cherish in their separate capacity something of an esprit de corps. The opportunity of reclaiming the wanderers, once possessed by the Church party, had slipped away beyond recall. Overtures, which would have been eagerly grasped before, were coldly looked at now.[144]

The history of the measures for easing or indulging Dissenters presents a marked contrast to the history of the measure for uniting them to the Establishment. The Bill ordered on the 8th of April by the House of Commons to be drawn up for the former purpose, was read on the 15th. The Bill from the Lords’ House, where it had smoothly passed, was received on the 18th, and first read on the 20th of the same month. Both Bills were committed on the 15th of May. What little of the debate has been preserved shows it to have been brief, desultory, and superficial—not dealing with any great principles, but only discussing details, with an outburst now and then of ill-temper. One speaker would not give indulgence to Quakers, because they would not take an oath. Another identified them with Penn, and looked upon them as Papists in disguise. Yet all the speakers supported more or less the principle of the Bill, although some were of opinion that it should be adopted as an experiment for seven years.[145] It speedily passed without any such limitation, and received the Royal assent on the 24th of May.[146]

The cause of this great and successful measure lay in a deeper region than that of political intrigue and party faction. Powerful and telling arguments had long been pressed upon the abettors of intolerance; and the impiety, the injustice, the absurdity, and the uselessness of attempting to coerce the conscience, had been demonstrated hundreds of times on grounds of Religion, Reason, and History. No class of writers had performed this important service so fully as certain Baptists and Independents, whom we have had occasion to notice. They had contended against intolerant laws, not in the spirit of indifference, not because religion was to them a matter of trivial or secondary importance, but because it was to them all in all, and they shuddered to see its name tainted by an alliance with despotic principles. Although their pleas and appeals did not perhaps to any appreciable extent directly affect public opinion, yet they secretly leavened the minds of religious people, and prepared for the coming change.

The doctrine of Toleration has of late been described as the offspring of scepticism. What kind of scepticism?[116] If it mean scepticism or unbelief as to the obligation to punish men for opinions, or as to the moral criminality of errors purely intellectual, or as to the wisdom of vesting political power in ecclesiastical persons, to say that this lies at the basis of Toleration is simply to repeat an identical proposition. But if it mean doubt or disbelief as to religion in general, or Christianity in particular, then to say Toleration arose from that cause in this country is simply untrue. Herbert and Hobbes, according to such a theory, ought to have been the apostles of freedom; but they were not. Baptists, Independents, and Quakers, according to such a theory, ought not to have been the apostles of freedom; yet they were. The same thing may be said of Jeremy Taylor and John Locke. Whilst, however, the chief advocates of Toleration were religious men, it is not to be denied that the measure when carried was the work of the State rather than of the Church. The Liberal Bishops supported it; but the great body of Churchmen were averse to its provisions. With regard to a number of the clergy and the laity, the State came forward as a constable to keep the peace between them and their Nonconformist fellow-citizens, whose rights they had violated.

Books and pamphlets were not the only nor the main agencies which brought about the Religious Revolution of 1689. It is remarkable, that the first of Locke’s famous letters on Toleration was printed in Holland, in the Latin language, in the year 1689, and was not translated into English and circulated in this country time enough to assist in the passing of the Toleration Bill. It threw into form, and it made plain to the common sense of humanity, those sentiments which were almost universal amongst the Dutch, and were beginning to be common amongst the English. It rather justified[117] what was being done at the time by the Legislature, than prompted or supported the Legislature in its career. It formulated the reasons of a conclusion at the moment practically reached; it expounded principles just being embodied in an Act of Parliament.

John Locke brought out the philosophy of Toleration. Toleration had become the genius of his character. Men whose minds have many sides, and who, from large human sympathies, tolerate those who differ from them, are made what they are by wide intercourse with the world. Born of Puritan parents, educated at Oxford under Dr. Owen, attached to the preaching of Whitecote, intimate with Cudworth’s family, connected with Lord Shaftesbury, friendly with Le Clerc, Limborch, and other Divines of the Remonstrant school, Locke caught and, in the advocacy of Toleration, reflected influences emanating from diversified sources. Reduced to a simple formula, the basis of his scheme was this: The State and the Church are essentially distinct. The Law recognized a Jewish commonwealth; the Gospel recognizes no Christian commonwealth. He repudiated all connection between the State and the Church; but he did not repudiate all connection between the State and Religion, for he excluded Atheists from Toleration. He also excluded Papists, not however on religious, but on political grounds.

Locke’s principle, followed out, would have made him a Dissenter; and it is a fact that he wrote a defence of Nonconformity, which he never published. Though nominally in communion with the Establishment to the day of his death, he generally attended the ministry of a lay preacher.[147]

A paper by John Howe—in which he stated the case of Protestant Dissenters—came nearest, in point of time, to the position of a manifesto in advance, clearing ground for the new law. His paper was drawn up in the beginning of 1689, yet it may be doubted whether it had any wide influence in consummating the change.

Amongst the immediate causes of the Bill being passed must be numbered old promises made to Dissenters by men in power, again and again; the pledges of political parties of all sorts, Whigs and Tories, Low Churchmen and High Churchmen, given amidst struggles against Popery in the preceding summer, all originating in religious impulses; and especially the influences of William, who honestly advocated liberty on a wide scale. Beyond this, and more effectual still, there existed a state of public feeling which, although most reasonable, had not been produced by reasoning and, though it could be victoriously defended by argument, had not really been reached by logical formulas. It is only one of a number of instances in which a change comes over the legislative enactments of a nation through a change wrought in the minds of rulers, wrought also in the minds of a people,—the Zeit-Geist, or spirit of the age,—produced by the discipline of circumstances, and by sympathetic impulses, in which pious men recognize the finger of Providence. What the Earl of Nottingham said in defence of his measure when he laid his Bill upon the table, I do not know; but I apprehend that, as a High Churchman he must have found it difficult to show how[119] his advocacy could be reconciled with his antecedents. He might have been unable to explain how, by reasoning, he had passed from his former to his present position. He and others might be fairly charged with inconsistency; a suspicion of it might even now and then cross their own minds. But, like all mankind, they were the subjects of influences more powerful than syllogisms, they bent beneath a force mightier than logic. Sophistical theories ingeniously spun, fondly watched, and for a time vigilantly guarded, get blown to the winds by the breath of inexorable facts, and of the spirit which throbs at the heart of them. False systems and ideas are found to be impracticable; as such they are given up by everybody. It is of no use to preserve them; they must be thrown away. So with the doctrine of religious intolerance. Englishmen could endure it in its old form no longer. A new spirit had taken possession of the age, and ancient restrictions must at last be sacrificed. But for such facts, men like Leonard Busher and John Goodwin might have gone on arguing for ever in vain.

In estimating the worth of what was done at this period, it betrays a narrow philosophy to harp upon the word “Toleration” as being an offensive term, and to ask, Has any man a right to talk of tolerating another man in the worship which his conscience bids him render to the infinitely glorious Creator? It is a curious fact that the word was not used in the Bill from beginning to end. It is entitled, “An Act for exempting their Majesties’ Protestant subjects dissenting from the Church of England from the penalties of certain laws.” Why dwell upon what the measure was popularly called—the question is, What did it accomplish? Its provisions confessedly are imperfect. Restrictions inconsistent with its principle were left, reminding us, how much more, certain feelings connected[120] with certain events have to do with producing them than any abstract conceptions whatever. But the Act did this, it afforded to all Protestants, with few exceptions, a legal protection in carrying out their systems of doctrine, worship, and discipline. It not only granted, but it guarded liberty of conscience. It threw the shield of law over every religious assembly within open doors. To interrupt the Independent, the Baptist, the Quaker, in the service of God, became a criminal offence. The amount of relief thus afforded can be appreciated only by those who are familiar with the harassing persecutions of the preceding reigns. By shielding Dissent, the law, though of course not endowing it, might be said, in a certain sense, to establish it. It placed Dissent upon a legal footing, and protected it side by side with the Endowed Church. It confined national emoluments to Episcopalians; but it secured as much religious freedom to other denominations as to them. Nay, it secured more—a consequence necessarily resulting from the difference in relation to the State, between voluntary Churches and one nationally endowed. By the change which the Act effected in the legal position of Nonconformity, it produced a relative change in the legal position of the Establishment. From the moment that William gave his assent to the Act, that Church ceased to be national in the sense in which it had been so before. The theory of its constitution underwent a revolution. It could no longer assume the attitude it had done, could no longer claim all Englishmen, as by sovereign right, worshippers within its pale; it gave legalized scope for differences of action,—for their growth, and advancement, and for the increase of their supporters in point of numbers, character, and influence.

The restrictions of the Act pressed upon two classes of religionists. It distinctly provided that the law should[121] not be construed as giving any ease, benefit, or advantage to any Papist, or Popish recusant, whatever. It therefore left in full operation the old laws pointed at the adherents of Rome,—laws with which James had dispensed, laws which, with most mistaken views, at that period almost all Protestants maintained. But not satisfied with a prohibition of Roman worship, the Government caused to be issued Royal proclamations requiring all reputed Papists to depart out of London and Westminster, and confining all Popish recusants within five miles of their respective dwellings.[148] In connexion with this fact it should be noticed, that in the month of July, the Royal assent was given to an Act which vested in the two Universities, the presentations of benefices belonging to Papists.

The other class of persons to whom liberty of worship was refused, consisted of such as denied, in preaching or writing, the doctrine of the Blessed Trinity declared in the Articles of the Church of England,—a stipulation which indicated zeal for orthodoxy on the part of a large majority of the House, and which ought to be noted amidst the strong rationalistic tendencies of the age. Zeal of this kind we shall find manifesting itself again and again during William’s reign.

Special provision was made for the relief of Quakers. Instead of being required to take any oath, they were allowed to make a declaration, first, in common with others, of their abhorrence of Papal supremacy, and next, of their orthodoxy. The latter declaration ran in these words: “I, A. B., profess faith in God the Father, and in Jesus Christ His eternal Son, the true God, and in the Holy Spirit, one God blessed for evermore; and do acknowledge[122] the Holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testament to be given by Divine inspiration.” It would appear that this declaration was altered from the original one to satisfy the Quakers, who, represented by four of their number during the passing of the Bill, objected to the expression “coequal with the Father and the Son” as applied to the Holy Spirit, and to another expression, “the revealed will and word of God” as applied to the Scriptures. These expressions were accordingly struck out. A Quaker historian observes, “That as a profession of faith is required of this Society only, it evinces the truth of the conjecture, that this profession of faith was started with a view to exclude the people called Quakers from a participation in the benefits of the Act.” If the remark be true in reference to the original form of the declaration—but of this I find no proof—it certainly is not true of the revised declaration, which received the sanction of Friends, before it was introduced into the Bill, and was affirmed by them after it became law.[149]

Comprehension fared differently from Toleration; but Tillotson would not let the former drop. Nobody was more sincere and earnest about it, and the view he took of the grounds on which Christians of different opinions might be brought together, appears from a paper copied into his commonplace book under the title of “Concessions, which will probably be made by the Church of England for the union of Protestants, which I sent to the Earl of Portland by Dr. Stillingfleet, September 13, 1689.

“I. That the ceremonies injoined or recommended in the Liturgy or Canons be left indifferent.

“II. That the Liturgy be carefully reviewed, and such alterations and changes therein made, as may supply the defects, and remove, as much as is possible, all ground of exception to any part of it, by leaving out the Apocryphal lessons, and correcting the translation of the psalms, used in the public service, where there is need of it; and in many other particulars.

“III. That instead of all former declarations and subscriptions to be made by ministers, it shall be sufficient for them that are admitted to the exercise of their ministry in the Church of England, to subscribe one general declaration and promise to this purpose, viz., that we do submit to the doctrine, discipline, and worship of the Church of England, as it shall be established by law, and promise to teach and practice accordingly.

“IV. That a new body of Ecclesiastical Canons be made, particularly with a regard to a more effectual provision for the reformation of manners both in ministers and people.

“V. That there be an effectual regulation of Ecclesiastical Courts, to remedy the great abuses and inconveniences, which by degrees, and length of time, have crept into them; and particularly, that the power of excommunication be taken out of the hands of lay officers, and placed in the Bishop, and not to be exercised for trivial matters, but upon great and weighty occasions.

“VI. That for the future those who have been ordained in any of the foreign Reformed Churches, be not required to be re-ordained here, to render them capable of preferment in this Church.

“VII. That for the future none be capable of any ecclesiastical benefice or preferment in the Church of England, that shall be ordained in England otherwise than by Bishops; and that those who have been[124] ordained only by Presbyters shall not be compelled to renounce their former ordination. But because many have, and do still doubt of the validity of such ordination, where episcopal ordination may be had, and is by law required, it shall be sufficient for such persons to receive ordination from a Bishop in this or the like form: If thou art not already ordained, I ordain thee, &c., as in case a doubt be made of any one’s baptism, it is appointed by the Liturgy that he be baptized in this form, If thou art not baptized, I baptize thee, &c.”[150]

Burnet, as I have noticed, thought at the end of April that to entrust Convocation with the business of Comprehension would be its ruin; Tillotson at the same time considered that ecclesiastical affairs ought to be submitted to Synodical authority, lest a handle should be offered for objecting that, as in the case of the Reformation, the change was accomplished by the State rather than the Church. The Dean, however, considered it expedient that, in the first instance, a Commission should be issued for a number of Divines, of diverse opinions, to digest a scheme for “establishing a durable peace.”[151] His object was good, his motives were amiable, but his method was unwise; for what chance would there be that Commissioners, in case of coming to an agreement, could induce Convocation to adopt their views? It was to renew Archbishop Williams’ Committee in 1641; it was to repeat the inconsistency of the Savoy Conference. It is true the relation between Tillotson’s Committee and the Convocation was more definite than that between the two bodies in a former instance, still it was of an abnormal kind, and open to objections from ecclesiastical lawyers. Though Burnet had in April predicted the[125] failure of the scheme, he in the course of the summer fell in with it, and the King, influenced by the Dean’s persuasion and by Burnet’s concurrence, issued, on the 13th of September, an instrument for bringing together ten Bishops and twenty Divines to confer upon this matter. The Commissioners on the 3rd of October met in the Jerusalem Chamber—that old theological battle-field, that famous arena of ecclesiastical warfare. Proceedings opened at 9 o’clock; there were 17 of the 30 Commissioners present.[152] After listening to the Commission, they discussed the question, whether the Apocrypha ought to be publicly read in Church. Beveridge, the Archdeacon of Colchester, contended, that dropping the old custom would give great offence to the people; and he was supported by Dr. Jane, Professor of Divinity at Oxford, who had a hand in drawing up the famous University decree in 1683, against seditious books and damnable doctrines. Jane recommended, that if not the whole Apocrypha, yet some of its most useful portions should be retained; on the other hand, it was urged that not only were particular parts objectionable, but all the books were deficient in authority, and to take lessons from them was to countenance the baseless pretensions of the Church of Rome. Meggot, Dean of Winchester, wished the Commissioners to defer their decision until a larger number should meet; to which it was replied that, inasmuch as a decision would not be binding, but would be referred to Convocation, they might as well vote at once; upon[126] which the Commissioners decided against the use of Apocryphal lessons.

The Prayer-Book version of the Psalms next came under review, when Kidder, then one of the London clergy, and regarded as an authority on the subject, was appealed to by the Bishops present, and gave his opinion, that the author of the first half of the version, growing weary of his patchwork, translated the second portion afresh, greatly to the improvement of the whole, although the entire translation differed from the Septuagint, as well as from the original Hebrew. Nothing was determined, and the meeting broke up about 12 o’clock.

At the next sitting (October the 16th), a serious discussion arose as to the authority of the Commission itself. Sprat, Bishop of Rochester—then, as Dean of Westminster, living next door to the Jerusalem Chamber—had been an active member of James’ High Commission, and now, inconsistently enough, objected to the Low Commission appointed by William; yet this was as constitutional as the former had been the reverse, for this amounted to no more than a committee of advice, whereas that claimed judicial prerogatives. Sprat either overlooked or pretended not to see the distinction, and talked of the danger of incurring a premunire by venturing to proceed with business. He said a burnt child dreads the fire, and as he had been deceived with regard to the other Commission, though some of the Judges were in its favour, he should not be satisfied with the Commission under which they were now brought together, unless the whole Judicial bench sanctioned its appointment. After quibbles about the altered official position of some Commissioners, and the small number left at the close of the last meeting, he urged the inconsistency of touching formularies to which they had given their assent and[127] consent; the impropriety of forestalling Convocational debates; and the probability of provoking Parliament by usurping its functions. Sprat found a supporter in Jane—“a double-faced Janus,” as people called him, for, after being a staunch supporter of non-resistance, he had conveyed to the Prince of Orange the offer of the University to coin its plate in the Deliverer’s service; and next, disappointed of a mitre, had on that account (so said his enemies) abandoned liberal opinions, and gone over to the camp of Toryism, where he found a more congenial atmosphere and a more agreeable home.

Another of Sprat’s allies was Dr. Aldrich,[153] Dean of Christchurch, a man of much higher character than Jane, architect of the Peckwater Quadrangle, munificent in his patronage and gifts, a master of logic, a proficient in music, and generous and genial in his hospitality. But Patrick, the new Bishop of Chichester, came to the rescue, dwelling upon the difference between the two Commissions, and urging the high legal sanction of their present operations. Compton, Bishop of London—still zealous on the liberal side—told his brethren that what they were doing had received the sanction of the Lords; that if they did not execute their trust, it would be taken out of the hands of the Clergy altogether; and that discharging their duty now would facilitate the business of Convocation, in the same way as Committees helped on the work of Parliament. Already it appeared that the reverend and right reverend Commissioners were sitting on barrels of gunpowder; presently the first explosion occurred, when Lloyd, Bishop of St. Asaph, one of the most zealous advocates of Comprehension,[128] hastily rose to move that those who were not satisfied with the Commission were at liberty to withdraw. This offended Sprat, Aldrich, and Jane; the last rose in a pet to leave the room, but was persuaded to remain, and it was prudently advised “that all things that happened at that time might be kept secret.” The stormy discussion lasted beyond noon, when the Bishops of London and Worcester and several others retired to the hospitable table of Dr. Patrick in the neighbouring cloister, and then went over several amendments to be made in the Liturgy. Two days afterwards, on the 18th, the Commissioners entered upon the consideration of ceremonies distasteful to Dissenters. Aldrich and Jane left soon after the debate commenced, and those who remained came to the conclusion that, as for receiving the Sacrament, “it should be in some posture of reverence, and in some convenient pew or place in the church, so that none but those that kneeled should come up to the rails or table, and that the persons scrupling, should some week-day before come to the minister, and declare that they could not kneel with a good conscience. This was agreed to, and drawn up. Only the Bishop of Winchester moved that the names of such persons might be written down, but that was not approved, and after all he dissented from the whole.”[154]

At the next meeting they took up the question of godfathers, Beveridge contending for the retention of them as being agreeable to ancient practice; some, on the other hand, declared that the custom often became a mere matter of interest, and even went so far as to assert, “that it was hard to find an instance of a child baptized before St. Cyprian’s time.”

The calendar underwent revision, and several Saints’ days were struck out of the list. Respecting the Athanasian Creed, much was said. Its use, its theological meaning, especially its damnatory clauses, had become in an age of rational inquiry, religious toleration, and latitudinarian sentiment, momentous moot-points. The atmosphere of theological thought existing at the time, indicated by the controversies on the Trinity, to be hereafter described, could not but fix attention on a formulary, which, viewed either as a creed or as a hymn, not only embodies definite opinion on the most abstruse of mysteries, but declares that those who do not keep it whole and undefiled must “without doubt perish everlastingly.” Burnet and Tillotson were willing to drop the so-called creed out of the service altogether; so was Fowler—the first of these Divines urging that the Church of England received the four first General Councils; that the Ephesian Council condemns all new symbols; that the Athanasian Creed is not very ancient; and that it condemns the Greek Church, which, said the Bishop, “we defend.” The utmost amount of change finally recommended as to this formula was its less frequent use and an explanation of its damnatory clauses. Its repetition was to be discontinued on the Epiphany, and the Feasts of St. Matthias, St. John the Baptist, St. James, St. Bartholomew, St. Matthew, St. Simon and St. Jude, and St. Andrew; but its use on All Saints’ Day was recommended. The word sung was struck out of the rubric, leaving the creed to be said; and the following came at the end:—“The Articles of which (creed) ought to be received and believed as being agreeable to the Holy Scriptures. And the condemning clauses are to be understood as relating only to those who obstinately deny the substance of the Christian faith [according to the 18th Article of[130] this Church].” These last words were afterwards cancelled.[155]

The subject of Ordination occupied the members through four successive meetings.[156] Questions were discussed—first in reference to those who had been Ministers of other communions; secondly, with regard to new candidates; and thirdly, as to the ceremony of conferring orders. The Bishop of Salisbury took a prominent part in this debate, on the first of these points, contending—that there was room to challenge the orders of the Romanists, “because that they ordained without imposition of hands,” and without the words, “whosesoever sins ye remit they are remitted,” and mixed up the matter with the theory of intention—that the Church of England had allowed the orders of Foreign Churches in the case of Du Moulin, Prebendary of Canterbury—that Presbyterians had been consecrated Bishops of the Scotch Church without being first ordained as Priests; James I. stiffly insisting upon it, being present at their consecration in Westminster Abbey; Bishop Andrewes, after having opposed it, also yielding assent to the service. As to Dissenters, Burnet strove to apply to their case the allowed validity of Donatist ordination in the early Church, on the ground of necessity for the healing of schism. But it was on the Conservative side objected, that Romanist orders were owned by the Anglican Church, the Bishop of London[131] admitting that no question arose about the validity of Roman Catholic orders, but only about the sufficiency of evidence as to their being properly conferred. Beveridge, in this debate as in others, distinguished himself by maintaining Anglican views, and showed that if cheats were put upon the Church by Romanists, so they might be by the Reformed; yet he admitted, in reference to the case of Du Moulin, that regular Episcopal ordination is not necessary, where no cure of souls is involved; upon which the Dean of Canterbury affirmed that he had heard even of laymen having been made Prebendaries. Beveridge met the case of the Donatists by pointing out that they were Episcopalians, and therefore in point of orders did not present any resemblance to Nonconformists.

“It was sometimes queried, What good would this do as to the Dissenters? It was answered by Dr. Still:[157] We sat there to make such alterations as were fit, which would be fit to make were there no Dissenters, and which would be for the improvement of the service.”

“It was said, I think by Dr. F., that some of the Nonconformists desired to be heard. It was replied by Dr. Still: That was not to be allowed, because doubtless they had no more to say by word of mouth than they had in their writings; and, that they might do them justice, there were several of their books laid before the Committee, that they might consult if there be occasion.”

In answer to the suggestion of the old compromise of a hypothetical reference to the invalidity of any former ordination, Beveridge remarked that it looked like equivocation on the part both of ordainer and ordained; the[132] first believing the second not ordained before, contrary to the belief of the second, who did not doubt his former orders. Burnet replied, there could be no ground for this objection, if a statement were annexed to the effect that each reserved his own opinion. Dr. Grove suggested that the former rite might be esteemed, not as wholly invalid, but as merely imperfect, and that the Bishop’s laying on of hands would complete what had been previously commenced. “But to this the Dean of St. Paul’s (Stillingfleet) replied, that in this point we were to respect two things—first, the preservation of the Church’s principle about the necessity of Episcopal ordination, when it might be had; and secondly, the case of the Dissenters,” in reference to whom he relates, or supposes, a most extraordinary and indeed unintelligible story, “that it was much like the marrying of the man, and the woman refusing; but after a term of years she consenting to go on, the woman was then married alone, without beginning again with the man.” What that means I leave the reader to find out. The study of the whole Report is dreary work.

Yet Tillotson, rich in common sense, must have been amused with these debates. He simply asked why might not the Church of England admit other orders, as it had been proposed its own should be admitted by the Church of Rome, when Queen Mary wrote to Gardiner, saying, “Quod illis deerat, supplebit Episcopus.” The Bishop’s supplement was alone sufficient for the potestas sacrificandi, without any invalidation of what had been previously accomplished. At last the Commissioners resolved upon adopting the hypothetical scheme—Beveridge and Scot alone dissenting from that conclusion.

The subject of exercising care relative to candidates occasioned no controversy; it was proposed that a month[133] before ordination, testimonials should be sent to the Bishop; and that candidates should be tested by being required to compose some short discourse in writing “upon some point or article.” Burnet, not much to the satisfaction of some of his brethren, who eschewed all ecclesiastical precedents taken from the north of the Tweed, reported the Scotch method of requiring the composition of a doctrinal and practical discourse, and the examination of the candidate in the original Scriptures and in sacred chronology.

In the Ordination Service the use of the words “receive the Holy Ghost” gave rise to much discussion, as a command to receive involves the possession on the speaker’s part of a power to bestow; and Burnet contended that such a use could not be traced back above 400 years, it having been introduced in the Middle Ages for the purpose of exalting the priesthood. The form was originally, that of a humble prayer, not of an absolute bestowment. Thus it appeared in the Apostolical Constitutions, in the writings of Dionysius the Areopagite, and in the Canons of the Councils of Carthage—the alteration being the fruit of Hildebrand’s time. The Bishop of St. Asaph and Dr. Scot, however, vindicated the Church of England in her employment of the Saviour’s words, and asserted that if they be not retained, “there is no form of ordination authoritatively,”—a very unfortunate ground of defence, for, as it was justly said, if so, then, the words not being used in the absolute form until within the previous four centuries, no valid ordinations had previously taken place. Tillotson selected a quotation from St. Augustine,[158] proving Christ to be God, because He bestowed the Holy Ghost; thus suggesting the[134] argument that the Church could not authoritatively confer the celestial gift, but only pray that it might be conferred by the Divine Being. The rest of the time was spent in revising the Daily Prayer, the Communion and Confirmation Services, the Catechism, and other formularies, and in preparing new Collects.

The second paragraph of the general rubric at the beginning of the order for Morning and Evening Prayer was struck out, and the following passage was inserted instead:—“Whereas the surplice is appointed to be used by all ministers in performing divine offices, it is hereby declared, that it is continued only as being an ancient and decent habit. But yet, if any minister shall come and declare to his Bishop that he cannot satisfy his conscience in the use of the surplice in divine service, in that case the Bishop shall dispense with his not using it, and if he shall see cause for it, he shall appoint a curate to officiate in a surplice.” The new paragraph was afterwards scored down the side, the following memorandum being appended:—“This rubric was suggested but not agreed to, but left to further consideration.” Another memorandum followed in these words, “A Canon to specify the vestments.”

Numerous verbal alterations were introduced into the Litany,—“sudden death” being altered into “dying suddenly and unprepared;” and new versicles and responses were inserted, “From all infidelity and error, from all impiety and profaneness, from all superstition and idolatry,—Good Lord deliver us.” With the Litany it was proposed to connect the rehearsal of the Ten Commandments, and the response, “Lord, have mercy upon us, and incline our hearts to keep this law.”

To the Prayers and Thanksgivings upon several occasions were added two new forms: one a prayer to be said[135] before receiving the Communion, another a prayer for any time of calamity. Forty-two new Collects were composed; and in the administration of the Lord’s Supper, after the Ten Commandments, came the insertion of the Beatitudes, with this petition after each of them, “Lord, have mercy upon us, and make us partakers of this blessing.” Here, and throughout the whole Prayer-Book, for the title priest is substituted that of minister. In the office for Baptism of Infants, the presentation of children for that purpose by godfathers and godmothers is acknowledged as an ancient custom to be continued; it is added, that if any person comes to the Minister, and tells him he cannot conveniently procure godfathers and godmothers for his child, and that he desires the child may be baptized upon the engagement of the parent or parents only, in that case the Minister, after discourse with him, if he persists, shall be obliged to baptize such child, or children, upon the suretiship of the parent, or parents, or some other near relation or friends. If any Minister objected at his institution to use the sign of the cross, the Bishop might dispense with that particular, and name a Curate to act for him. In reference to the doctrine of Regeneration, the form of Baptism remained the same as before.

Large additions were made to the Catechism and to the Confirmation Service, the prayers after the last answer being considerably modified; and a new prayer and exhortation prepared for the confirmed, who were required to stay and listen to it.

The “Solemnization of Matrimony,” with several verbal changes, remains substantially unaltered; but in “the Order for the Visitation of the Sick,” together with fresh interrogatories, there is this important change in the words of absolution: “Our Lord Jesus Christ, who[136] hath left power to His Church to absolve all sinners who truly repent and believe in Him, of His great mercy, forgive thee thine offences; and upon thy true faith and repentance, by His authority committed to me, I pronounce thee absolved from all thy sins, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.”

In the Burial Service the word “dear” before the word “brother” is struck out; so are the words “as our hope is this our brother doth.” “Through any temptations” is substituted in place of the expression “for any pains of death;” and the last prayer but one is so altered that the latter portion becomes quite different. It runs thus: “We give Thee hearty thanks for that it hath pleased Thee to instruct us in this heavenly knowledge, beseeching Thee so to affect our hearts therewith, that seeing we believe such a happy estate hereafter, we may live here in all holy conversation and godliness, looking for and hastening unto the coming of the day of God; that being then found of Thee in peace without spot and blameless, we may have our perfect consummation and bliss, both in body and soul, in Thy eternal and everlasting glory, through Jesus Christ our Lord.”

No one who takes the trouble to read through the report of these tedious proceedings but must be astonished at the extent of the proposed alterations. They prove that some of the Episcopalian Divines who took part in the revision of 1689 must have been a very different class of men from the Episcopalian Divines who took part in the revision of 1662. Calamy became acquainted with the alterations, and said he thought if the scheme had been carried out, it would “have brought in two-thirds of the Dissenters.”[159] No doubt a considerable[137] number might have been satisfied, but I consider Calamy to have been too sanguine in his expectation; his expectation resting mainly on what he knew of Presbyterians, who were much more disposed to return to the Establishment than were brethren of other denominations. But in addition to circumstances already mentioned unfavourable to Comprehension, the triumph of Presbyterianism in Scotland, which involved the abolition of Prelacy in that country, produced in Prelatists a great deal of bad feeling, and stood in the way of the present attempt; this obstacle was greatly increased by Nonconformist attacks at the time upon the use of Liturgies, and by a constantly augmenting number of Nonconformist ordinations. Besides, although extensive alterations came under discussion, very few Episcopalians were disposed to go to such lengths as were proposed; some who were active in the affair were also cautious, and an immense majority outside the Committee utterly disliked the whole business, and were opposed to any alteration whatever in the formularies.[160]

The changes proposed did not touch any articles of faith, and therefore exhibit the English Latitudinarian party in a very different position from that of the foreign Latitudinarians, who threw down all the barriers of orthodoxy, and opened the doors of the Church to Unitarians. D’Huisseau, a distinguished professor and pastor at Saumur, proposed the reunion of Christendom on the broadest doctrinal basis, and received support from several Calvinistic Divines of considerable note.[138] The English Episcopalians, who moved in the matter as just described, rather resembled Jurieu, an eminent French theologian, ordained by an Anglican Bishop, yet officiating as a Presbyterian clergyman in France and in Holland. He advocated Comprehension on an orthodox basis, and treated Church organization and forms of worship as of minor importance.

The sittings of the Commission ended on November the 18th. Convocation had assembled on the 6th of the same month.

The labour of the Commissioners was labour in vain. It came to nothing. All that remains of it is a royal octavo pamphlet in blue paper covers, published some years ago by order of the House of Commons.

History records many a lost opportunity, which students of the past, looking at events, each from his own point of view, must needs lament. To the Catholic—the old Catholic of the Döllinger type—the Reformation appears a lost opportunity for removing abuses and uniting European Christendom. It comes before him as a crisis, which, if the Catholic party had been wise, they would have used for the purpose of purifying the Church and conciliating opponents, and so retaining them within the same fold. By the Puritan, freeing himself from party bias, I should think, the era of the Long Parliament and the Commonwealth must be regarded as a lost opportunity for treating Episcopalians (their inveterate persecutors) in the spirit of Christian justice and charity, by granting admirers of the Prayer-Book a freedom of worship which admirers of the Prayer-Book had never granted to the Puritans; thus returning good for evil, and so reading with emphasis a priceless lesson to the whole world. In like manner, surely, the liberal Churchman of the present day, whatever he may think of[139] Tillotson’s Commission, must mourn over the Revolution as a lost opportunity for enlarging the boundaries of her communion, of recovering Dissenters—not to the extent Calamy supposed, yet in considerable numbers—and of removing from the Church of England many incumbrances, which have ever since been points of attack and sources of weakness.

Much excitement had been manifested during the clerical elections in the year 1661, but there was far greater excitement during the election of 1689. Canvassing for members of Parliament was an old custom, but canvassing for members of Convocation was a new one, and at the time it was noticed as a sign of party spirit then so rife. The fact is remarkable, that whilst the official members of the Lower House included many distinguished men, nobody of any mark was elected, except Dr. John Mill, the eminent Greek scholar, who edited a new version of the text of the New Testament.[161] By far the majority was composed of persons who had long been Tories in politics, and now showed themselves to be High Churchmen in religion; but the Upper House,—thinned, by refusal to attend, of those nonjuring Prelates who still survived, two of them having died,—contained decidedly liberal politicians and divines in the persons of Compton, Lloyd, Burnet, and Patrick, the last of whom had in September been raised to the Bishopric of Chichester. These Bishops took the lead in the proceedings of that assembly, and imparted to them a liberal spirit. The difference between the temper of the two Houses soon appeared.

Convocation had formerly met first at St. Paul’s, and afterwards at Westminster. Now that the new Cathedral[140] of London, though nearly completed, had not been consecrated, Convocation assembled at once within the walls of Henry VII.’s Chapel, when a Latin sermon was preached by Beveridge.

As soon as the Lower House proceeded to business, the choice of a Prolocutor was the first step. On the 21st of November, Sharp—who had in the Deanery of Canterbury succeeded Tillotson, now made Dean of St. Paul’s—proposed as Prolocutor his distinguished predecessor, who was a friend of the King, a favourite at Court, a man of prudence and moderation, and a promoter of the scheme of Comprehension. But Tillotson was rejected by two to one in favour of Jane. Nobody could mistake the significancy of the choice. It would appear that personal feeling had some influence in it. The Earls of Clarendon and Rochester are accused of having intrigued against Tillotson from resentment towards his patrons, the King and Queen—the latter of them, although their near relative, not having raised them to any high employments in the State. Moreover, it had become known, that Tillotson was intended by William to be Sancroft’s successor, as soon as Sancroft’s deposition could be legally accomplished. This circumstance stung the mind of Compton, who, on account of his former relation to the Queen as her tutor, and the signal service he had rendered at the Revolution, not to mention his noble rank, considered he had a claim superior to that of the Dean. Unworthy motives are often attributed to men upon insufficient grounds, and I am unable to discover the reasons for Tillotson’s unfavourable opinion of Compton; but as Tillotson was not likely to have adopted suspicions without reason, it is probable that Compton had something to do with the rejection of Tillotson as a candidate for the Prolocutorship. Knowing what human[141] nature is, one does not wonder that Compton was annoyed at Tillotson being preferred to him; yet it should be remembered that if Compton was mortified by the Royal preference for Tillotson, it did not at present induce him to abandon the Liberal party. When Jane the Prolocutor was presented to Compton as President of the Upper Chamber, in the room of the absent Primate, he finished a speech upon the perfection of the Church, and the mischief of any change in it, with the words, “Nolumus leges Angliæ mutari,” in allusion, it is inferred, to Compton’s having adopted that motto for the colours of his regiment, when he had played the part of a colonel. The Bishop, in his answer, indicated his adherence to the opinions and measures he had before proposed, by saying to the Clergy, that “they ought to endeavour a temper in those things that are not essential in religion, thereby to open the door of salvation to a multitude of straying Christians; that it must needs be their duty to show the same indulgence and charity to the Dissenters under King William, which some of the Bishops and Clergy had promised to them in their addresses to King James.”[162]

After the Royal Commission—a commission which spoke of rites and ceremonies as “indifferent and alterable”—authorizing the Convocation to proceed to business had been read, and after the delivery of a Royal message full of gracious expressions, conveyed by the Earl of Nottingham, the Bishops prepared an address. In this address they thanked His Majesty for the zeal he had shown “for the Protestant religion in general, and the Church of England in particular.”[163] To these words a strong objection was taken by the Lower House. First,[142] they claimed a right to present an address of their own, which being disallowed, they claimed a right to offer amendments. They wished the address to be confined to what concerned the Church of England, and no mention to be made of the Protestant religion in general. An amendment being carried to that effect, there followed a conference between the two Houses—Burnet representing the Upper, Jane the Lower. The Lower House desired the words “Established Church” to be employed, which led to a dispute between the Bishop and the Prolocutor. The Bishop argued, that the Church of England as established was only distinguished from other Churches by its hierarchy and revenues, and that if Popery were restored there would still be an Established Church of England. The Prolocutor replied, that the Church was distinguished by its Articles, Liturgy, and Homilies.

The discussion between these two Divines resembled that between the two knights who could not agree about the device on a shield, because the first looked at it on one side and the second on the other. The fact is, that the disputants were thinking of different things. Burnet was thinking only of the circumstance of an Establishment—of that which is a mere incident to any Church connected with the State; so considering the question, no doubt he was right. Jane, on the other hand, was thinking of the Church itself, and not the establishment of it. Consequently he was wrong in saying what he did of the Church as established, though he would have been right had Burnet used the disputed words in the sense in which Jane was employing them. The logomachy terminated in a compromise; and the two Houses concurred in thanking William for the zeal he had expressed concerning the honour, peace, advantage, and establishment of the English Church, whereby they doubted not[143] the interest of the Protestant religion, which in all other Protestant Churches was dear to them, would be the better secured.

The King, in reply, assured the Bishops, that they might depend on his former promises, and he gave a new assurance that he would improve all occasions and opportunities for serving the Church of England. There also occurred in this Convocation, debates about proxies, complaints respecting the custody of Convocation records, and charges brought against the publication of books on the Athanasian Creed, contrary to the Canons. We are informed that a reverend person made a useless speech on behalf of the Bishops under suspension, wishing that something could be done to qualify them for sitting in Convocation without endangering the constitution of the Assembly; and Burnet tells us that the majority in Convocation refused to consider any compromise with the Dissenters, one argument being that it was derogatory to the Church to make overtures to them until they expressed a desire for reconciliation, and either offered proposals themselves, or showed a willingness to consider proposals made by others.[164]

Committee meetings were held in Dr. Busby’s chamber, and in Dr. Tenison’s library there was an inspection of old books belonging to Convocation, but nothing important was effected in any way. Convocation adjourned on the 16th of December through successive prorogations, and remained inoperative for ten years.

The periods prescribed by the Act which altered the Oaths of Allegiance—first for the suspension, and next for the ejectment of those who refused to swear—were the 1st of August, 1689, and the 1st of February, 1690.

In the early part of the year events occurred which increased the importance of exacting the prescribed oaths.

James left France in the month of March, 1689. Rumour ran that he had reached England, that he was in London, that he was secretly lodged in the house of Lloyd, the Nonjuror.[165] This proved to be a mistake. He landed at Kinsale in Ireland, trusting to his friends, and saying, “I will recover my own dominions with my own subjects, or perish in the attempt.” The French King speeded the parting guest with the equivocal compliment, “The best wish I can form for your service is, that I may never see you again.”[166] But with the people of Ireland James found little favour—the Protestants disliking him as a Papist, the Papists suspecting him because they considered his policy towards Protestants too lenient.[167] In support[145] of his attempt to recover the crown, his army laid siege to Londonderry, and the French navy skirmished with an English squadron in Bantry Bay. This occurred in April. A Parliament, at his summons, met in Dublin the following month, and from the Castle, where he took up his residence, he issued a Declaration to his Irish subjects, exhorting them to support his claims.

Roussel, a French Protestant Minister, who after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes had witnessed the demolition of his church, and had dared one night, at the request of his congregation, to preach amidst the ruins, was for the offence sentenced to be broken on the wheel. Having effected his escape from France, he happened, at the time of James’ arrival in Ireland, to be an exile there. One of the first things done by this Royal friend of religious liberty was to deliver the refugee to the Ambassador of Louis, who had him conveyed home to undergo his sentence.[168]

Copies of James’ Declaration were circulated in England, and found their way to Cambridge. One Thomas Fowler, from the University, stood at the bar of the House of Commons on the 20th of June, to state that the documents came down in boxes, directed to the Masters of Queen’s and St. John’s; and one of the Burgesses for the University acquainted the House that the boxes were in the custody of the Vice-Chancellor.[169]

The Government in England, with their elected Sovereign, was challenged to submit to the cashiered King, or to hold their own by force of arms. The gauntlet being[146] thrown down before the world, no alternative remained but for William to return to Holland, or to fight out the contest as best he could. The position in which these circumstances placed him in reference to the Nonjurors is obvious. Personally he had no disposition to come to extremities with them; he had given proof of a desire to treat them with the utmost leniency; but the exigencies of his position rendered it indispensable that at this moment he should be unyielding towards all justly suspected of disaffection. Of the disaffection of the Nonjurors there could be no doubt. They refused to take the new oath on the very ground that, by virtue of the old one, their allegiance belonged to James. James was their anointed King, their King by Divine right; William was esteemed by them as no better than a usurper.

Three nonjuring Prelates died in the course of the spring and summer. Cartwright, the semi-Popish Bishop of Chester, after joining James at St. Germains, accompanied him to Ireland, where on the 15th of April he expired, having received on his death-bed the sacrament and the absolution of the Church of England, instead of conforming to Rome, as at the time he was reported to have done.[170] Thomas, Bishop of Worcester, died June the 25th, solemnly declaring on his death-bed that, if his heart did not deceive him, and the grace of God failed him not, he thought he could burn at a stake before he would take the new oath.[171] Lake, Bishop of Chichester, followed Thomas to the grave in the month of August, expressing satisfaction with the course which he had pursued, and declaring his conviction that the oaths were inconsistent with the doctrine of passive obedience, which he maintained to be[147] a doctrine of the English Church.[172] These testimonies, hallowed by the solemnity of death, were heirlooms for the Nonjurors, who preserved them with care, and exhibited them with reverence, not without considerable effect in promoting their cause.

The Prelates who had not sworn, persistently continued to refuse the oaths; the Primate being reproached with his inconsistency for the part he had taken in the Revolution. He was insolently told by a Jacobite correspondent in Holland, “Your Grace has forfeited your neck already in signing that traitorous Declaration at Guildhall, wherein you cast off your allegiance to your lawful Sovereign, and applied yourself to the Prince of Orange.”[173] Free to discharge their functions up to the 1st of August, 1689, the Bishops were then suspended from the exercise of them. Still they enjoyed their benefices, and continued to reside in their palaces. The interim was filled up by the defence of their opinions. Sancroft, following the bent of his disposition, shut himself up at Lambeth, retaining impracticable views of a Regency, refusing to acknowledge William and Mary, combining good intentions with narrowness of mind, and saying to the last, with Pius the IX. at Rome, Non possumus. Lloyd, Bishop of Norwich, unfortunately sympathized with the Archbishop, and encouraged him in his policy. Ken—a far different man, firm in principle, of a tender conscience, yet open to[148] conviction, careless about his interests, only anxious to do what was right—almost resolved to submit. But, after a night’s rest, he said to Dr. Hooper, who had pressed submission upon him, “I question not but that you, and several others, have taken the oaths with as good a conscience as myself shall refuse them; and sometimes you have almost persuaded me to comply by the arguments you have used; but I beg you to use them no further, for should I be persuaded to comply, and after see reason to repent, you would make me the most miserable man in the world.”[174]

Turner, Bishop of Ely, another of the nonjuring band, whose character has been indicated already, whose Jacobitism is unquestionable, and who supported the Archbishop in his defiant course, wrote to him on Ascension Day, 1689, a letter in which he refers to Ken, and the doubts felt respecting him. “I must needs say, the sooner we meet our brother of Bath the better, for I must no longer in duty conceal from your Grace—though I beseech you to keep it in terms of a secret—that this very good man is, I fear, warping from us, and the true interests of the Church of England, towards a compliance with the new Government.”[175]

Frampton, Bishop of Gloucester, coincided with Ken in his moderation; and if the rest had resembled them, possibly a practical adjustment of the controversy might have been reached. He is described as a gentle, amiable man, unfitted for an Episcopal position during a season of political trouble. After his deprivation he pursued a quiet and inoffensive course, without giving any umbrage to the Government.[176] Sancroft, Lloyd, and Turner were men of a different mould.

During the period of the Bishops’ remaining in suspension, their case excited immense interest—friends loudly expressing sympathy, opponents loudly expressing disapproval. The press was employed. Apologies were published; answers were returned. On the one hand the services of the Seven in the cause of liberty were gratefully rehearsed, their sufferings pitifully depicted, their temper under trials enthusiastically extolled, and the sacredness of oaths, as asserted in their conduct, earnestly enforced. Connected with this vindication and eulogy, were mystical allusions to the perfect number of the Episcopal confessors, the Seven imprisoned being irreverently compared to the burning lamps before the throne of God. On the other hand, this play of fancy met with sarcasm and ridicule; the old arguments for the new oaths came into hackneyed use; the patient temper of the Bishops failed to excite any longer much admiration, and a ridiculous panegyric pronounced upon them for “the holy tears” they wept, like “trees of sovereign[150] balm, to cure the wounds of their Royal enemy,” only aroused mockery, whilst their suffering and services were depreciated by a reference to the story of Alexander the Great. Alexander had coats of armour made for men and horses three times the ordinary size, and left behind on the banks of the River Indus, to make succeeding ages believe that his soldiery were of gigantic bigness. So, it was said, the setting forth a few days’ imprisonment in the Royal palace of the Tower,—under the notion of its being a prison such as confined the primitive Christians,—detracted from the real glory gained by the Bishops, since everybody saw the vast disproportion between the dungeons of Diocletian and the Tower of London.[177]

As the 1st of February approached, a few Clergymen in the archdeaconry of Sudbury applied to their Diocesan, Lloyd, Bishop of Norwich, telling him that though they thought of nothing less than losing all, yet they passionately desired to know whether they should voluntarily leave their respective cures, or wait to be forcibly thrust out; also they wished to know how they were to behave, so as, if possible, to preserve the ancient Church of England. He informed them that in the opinion of eminent lawyers a judicial sentence alone could eject them; and therefore that they might retain possession until they were judicially expelled. Their second question he left unanswered.[178] Whether Lloyd’s notion of[151] law was right or wrong, the Clergy generally did not act upon it, for most of them quietly quitted possession on the 1st of February.[179] Amongst the most distinguished of these Nonjurors were George Hickes, Dean of Worcester; Henry Dodwell, who, though not in orders, was Camden Professor of Ancient History at Oxford; Jeremy Collier, Lecturer at Gray’s Inn; and John Kettlewell, Vicar of Coleshill, in Warwickshire.

Hickes was a man of great learning, skilled both in patristic lore and Teutonic tongues. He was brother to the Nonconformist Minister of the name, who suffered death after Monmouth’s rebellion; but, so far from being tainted with his brother’s sentiments, he was an intense opponent of Nonconformity, and an extravagant assertor of passive obedience. He published the last speeches of two Presbyterian Ministers, under the title of The Spirit of Popery, speaking out of the Mouths of Fanatical Protestants; and declared, in his Thebæan Legion, that if King James should imitate the Emperor Maximian, and doom his soldiers to death, for refusing to commit idolatry, it would be their duty to submit with meekness to the Royal decree. He wrote letters to a Popish priest, and an apologetical vindication of the English Church, in answer to those who reproached her with heresy and schism; and he also composed a book, entitled Speculum Beatæ Virginis, a discourse of the due praise and heroism of the Virgin Mary. These works indicate what manner of man he must have been, yet it is affirmed that at first he felt disposed to take the oaths, and came up to London for the purpose, but swerved from it through the influence of his High Church friends; a statement which seems very improbable.[180] Dodwell was still more[152] learned than Hickes, and if in his theories more absurd, he was in practice more reasonable. Some of his speculative ideas upon marriage and music, upon the old serpent and the human soul, were as extraordinary as any that ever entered the human brain; but the fact which more immediately relates to my purpose is, that on the one hand he wrote Discourses against the Romanists, and on the other hand treatises upon Schism and One Priesthood, in such a style, that when Tillotson read the MS. he told him some things in it were so palpably false, he wondered the author did not see their absurdity, and that they were so gross as to grate much upon one’s inward sense. He compared him to Richard Baxter—a man unlike him in most respects, but whom he resembled in pertinacity of purpose and fondness for his own opinion. Collier was described in his own day as a breathing library, and for metaphysical learning and eloquence as bearing the bell from most men.[181]

Inferior to Collier in point of ability, and to Dodwell and Hickes in point of learning, Kettlewell exceeded them in the fervour of his piety and in the force of his character. Eminently spiritual and devout, with his heart fixed upon another world, he threw into his life and ministry a spiritual force, which touched as with an electric spark those who came in contact with him, and made him a centre of power, though he was free from any ambition to become a party leader. He had been Chaplain in the Bedford family, and had been held in affectionate esteem by Lord William Russell, though he utterly differed from him in political opinion, for Kettlewell strongly maintained the doctrine of passive obedience. He did not join in the outcry against Popery in the reign of James II.; he thought it[153] betrayed unworthy fears to be so alarmed at the antagonism of error; and instead of preaching against Romanism, he enforced the doctrines of the Creeds. When others were exclaiming against the miscarriages of Government, he, it is said, turned the thoughts of his hearers upon themselves, bidding them contemplate the judgment of God, adore His wisdom, and submit to His will.[182] The use which he meant to be made of these religious reflections was to reconcile people to the ruling powers, and to repress the idea of resisting them, whatever might be the excesses to which they ran. “He preached up,” as his sympathizing biographer, remarks, “the duties of common Christianity and of universal obligation, of reliance upon Providence, of simplicity and sincerity, of fidelity and perseverance, with all the branches of the great doctrine of the Cross, and the benefit which the Church maketh by sufferings; constantly recommending Christianity to his flock as a passive religion, and giving them rules for begetting in them a meek and passive spirit.”[183] The temper of the man, the tone of his churchmanship, and the preparation he was making for his ultimate position as a Nonjuror, are very plain; and with peculiarities of this kind he blended a love of Ritualism, which expressed itself in rather an unusual form, for when a new set of Communion plate had been presented to the church at Coleshill, he caused the vessels to be dedicated by Archbishop Sancroft. They were placed upon a table below the altar steps, and then taken, piece by piece, and reverently placed upon the altar, sentences of Scriptures being repeated in connection with the presentation of each. When the patten, the chalices, the flagon, and the bason had been so offered, a prayer of consecration[154] followed, then a benediction, and then the Holy Communion.[184] Kettlewell is described as a man of a peaceable disposition; but it is clear from his Memoirs that the ardour of his affections led him to speak and act with a vehemence not agreeable to those who differed from him, and “the true effigies” of his face prefixed to the book, confirms the inference which in this respect must be drawn from the narrative. He was unquestionably a man of enthusiasm, and his enthusiasm had a capacity for becoming fanatical.

The Nonjurors were not so numerous as Kettlewell and others wished. Only six joined him in his own county. In the diocese of Lichfield and Coventry there might be twenty. In one archdeaconry in the diocese of Norwich there might be half that number, owing to the influence of a nonjuring Bishop. In one College at Cambridge there was a considerable majority of Nonjurors, attributable to the party spirit they managed to maintain. Altogether, about 400 Clergymen quitted the Establishment. When we remember how prevalent had been the doctrines of the Divine right of Kings, and of the absolute submission of subjects; when, besides this, we recollect the nature of the education given at Oxford, where the decree against the opposite doctrines had been daily read, and constantly hung up in the Colleges,—we wonder that the Nonjurors were not more numerous.

Dignitaries were not so submissive as their inferior brethren. In defiance of the Act of Parliament, nonjuring Bishops retained their palaces; and so lenient was the Government, that, at the eleventh hour, forms of proviso were proposed, under which Nonjurors might[155] continue to enjoy their benefices. The suspicion with which all such overtures of kindness were regarded appears in a letter to Sancroft written by Lloyd, the Coryphæus of the obstinates:

This secession from the Church on a question touching the Crown could not but be a trouble to William; at the same time he had other troubles. The intrigues and trials between Whigs and Tories were the plague of his reign. He wished he were a thousand miles away, and that he had never become King of England. He thought he could not trust the Tories—he resolved he would not trust the Whigs; and once he was on the point of going back to Holland, leaving the Government here in the hands of the Queen. He and his Ministers had warm debates, and it is said that amongst them tears were shed. At last William made up his mind to go to Ireland, and there put an end to the war.[186]

He assembled a new Parliament on the 2nd of April. Terrific excitement prevailed at the elections. The Whigs denounced the Tories as Jacobites, and the Jacobites as Papists. The Tories denounced the Whigs as Republicans, Fanatics, Latitudinarians, and Atheists. The Tories had the best of it, and returned a majority. Four Tories were declared to be at the head of the poll for the City of London. Prominent and noisy Whigs were excluded from their old seats; liberal men, disgusted at the excesses of their own party, voted on the other side; even Sir Isaac Newton declined a contest at Cambridge, and recorded his name in favour of Sir Robert Sawyer, who had been expelled from the Whig Convention. Yet in spite of defeats, the Whigs took heart and concocted[157] plans, hoping to frustrate the opposite policy. This subject, however, it is not necessary to pursue, neither need we describe the changes which took place in the Ministry. Before the Revolution, the conduct of the Ministry affected most materially the affairs of the Church and the condition of Dissenters; after the passing of the Allegiance Act, the Church was little affected by the policy of the Government, except as connected with Convocation; still less did that policy touch the Dissenters after the passing of the Toleration Act.

In anticipation of the Irish campaign, a national fast was fixed for the 12th of March, when prayers were offered for the personal safety of William. Immediately afterwards, a form of prayer of a very different description was printed and circulated. It referred to England as in a state of religious apostacy, and it sought the restoration of James without mentioning him by name. He was referred to as the stone which the builders rejected, and which God would make the head of the corner. There could be no mistake as to what was meant by the petitions, “Give the King the necks of his enemies;” “Raise him up friends abroad;” “Do some mighty thing for him, which we, in particular, know not how to pray for.”[187]

This inflammatory performance under a devout disguise aroused indignation, and numbers of the adherents of William ascribed its composition to the Nonjurors. The excitement against the Bishops of that party was increased by a publication, in which they were styled “the Reverend Club of Lambeth,” “the Holy Jacobite Club,” “wretches, great contrivers, and managers of Cabals,” who loved “to trample on the Dissenters, now happily out of their clutches.” The new prayers are called[158] the Bishop’s “Great Guns;” and Ken is alluded to as a fellow who had eaten King William’s bread. The most shameful passage is one in which, under a covert allusion to the massacre of the De Witts in Amsterdam, a violent assault upon the individuals abused is obviously suggested.[188]

The Bishops published a vindication of themselves, denying that they had any share in the recent form of prayer, or that they had any knowledge as to who were the writers. In reference to the attack upon them they said, “Who the author of the libel was they did not know; but whoever he might be, they desired, as the Lord had taught, to return him good for evil, and recommended him to the Divine mercy.” They had all, they went on to declare, actually or virtually, hazarded whatever they possessed in opposing Popery and arbitrary power; and were still ready to sacrifice their very lives in the same noble cause. In conclusion, they lamented the misfortune that they were unable to publish full and particular replies to the many libels which were industriously circulated by enemies, to the injury of their reputation. The authorship of the prayers being denied by the Bishops, it was attributed to Hickes, or to Sherlock, or to Kettlewell; on their behalf a protest was entered against such a suspicion in the Life of the last of these persons; but some sympathy with the New Liturgy itself is betrayed by the writer, when, without any condemnatory or qualifying remark, he calls it “as solemn and expressive as any could well be;” nor does he hint at its being the work of Roman Catholics—an origin which, by some writers, has been suggested without sufficient reason.[189]

On the 1st of July, 1690, the memorable Battle of the Boyne was fought and won by William III. He received a slight wound; and that slight wound created an unexampled sensation throughout England and the cities and courts of Europe. A letter conveying the intelligence reached the Queen at Whitehall just as she was going to chapel; and, to use her own expression, it frightened her out of her wits. But out of her senses with trouble one day, she was out of her senses with joy the next, to find the injury turned out to be very slight.[190] Paris, at first frantic with exultation on hearing of the supposed death of the great enemy of France, sunk into rageful disappointment to find that he was still alive, and ready to fight further battles in support of Protestantism. Strange as it may appear—but the strange combinations of European parties and politics at that time will account for it—the tidings of the wound brought no joy to Rome, any more than to Austria.[191] Both were reassured by a true report of the fate of William. “No mortal man,” said Tillotson, “ever had his shoulder so kindly kissed by a cannon bullet;” a felicitous tune of expression,[160] which even South, with all his prejudice against Tillotson, could not fail to admire.[192]

Whilst the battle was raging on the banks of the Boyne, a sea fight occurred off the Sussex coast; an English Bishop, in sympathy with his Royal master, was performing his sacred functions in the vicinity of the latter of these conflicts; and an extract from his Diary in reference to it is worth transcribing:—

“Thirtieth of June, being Monday, I began my visitation at Arundel; and went the next day to Lewes, where I visited on Wednesday; and on Thursday went towards Hastings, and heard by the way that the French were burning that town. But we resolved to go on, being invited to lie at Sir Nicholas Pelham’s, whose house was not many miles from it. He was gone thither with other country gentlemen; the French having attempted to burn some ships that were run on ground there. He sent us word the town was safe, but he could not come home that night. At six in the morning he came, and said there was no danger, but the town was in such confusion that it would be to no purpose to go thither. For the churches were full of soldiers, who lay there all night, and the streets full of country people, and all the women frighted away and fled, so that there were none left to dress any victuals. He invited us therefore to stay with him, and entertained us most kindly. But my Chancellor, Dr. Briggs, all on a sudden started up, and would go to Hastings, and about noon word was brought us some of the Clergy were there; which made me condemn myself for not going with him, though I followed the best advice I could get. And afterward it appeared to be the best; for though some of the clergy appeared, there was no place wherein to visit them;[161] and besides it might have proved dangerous: for two men were killed with a cannon bullet in the very next house to that where my Chancellor sat; which made him run away in haste before he had done his business, and (as I remember) left some of his books behind him.”[193]

The Battle of the Boyne led to an important clerical conversion. William Sherlock, Master of the Temple, had distinguished himself in the reign of James II., not only by his zeal in contending against Popery, but also by his decision in maintaining the principle of non-resistance. He strongly disapproved of the turn which affairs took at the Revolution, and advocated negotiations with the exiled Monarch, in reference to his being restored upon terms which would preserve constitutional liberty. The accession of the Prince and Princess of Orange inspired indignation, and the new oaths were by him unhesitatingly declined. He threw in his lot with the Nonjurors, who regarded his talents with respect and his character with admiration; and they esteemed the support of a man so popular as a tower of strength. After losing the Mastership of the Temple, he retired into private life, and, pensive amidst misfortunes, wrote and published his celebrated treatise on Death. Still he deprecated schism; disapproved of the establishment of any Episcopal sect; advised those who could conscientiously remain, not to forsake their parish churches; and even officiated himself at St. Dunstan’s, actually reading the prayers for William and Mary. When the Battle of the Boyne decided the fate of the exile, and secured peace for the occupants of the throne, Sherlock looked at things in another light, became reconciled to the revolutionary[162] settlement, and took the oaths which he had before refused. As a consequence, he returned to the Mastership of the Temple, and also received the Deanery of St. Paul’s, vacated by Tillotson’s elevation to Canterbury. So prominent a man on the nonjuring side, could not pass through such a conversion without giving some reasons for it; accordingly he wrote a book, which he entitled, The Case of the Allegiance due to Sovereign Powers stated and resolved according to Scripture and Reason and the Principles of the Church of England.

Sancroft, soon after the Revolution, published what was called Bishop Overall’s Convocation Book, written in the reign of James I., containing certain conclusions respecting Ecclesiastical and Civil Government, one of which, notwithstanding the current tone of the book in favour of non-resistance, is to the effect, that a Government originating in rebellion, when thoroughly settled, should be reverenced and obeyed as “being always God’s authority, and therefore receiving no impeachment by the wickedness of those that have it.” The Convocations of Canterbury and York had endorsed the contents of Overall’s volume; and, by a canon, distinctly condemned the doctrine that a Government begun by rebellion, after being thoroughly settled, is not of God.[194] Sherlock made a good deal out of this, and said he should have continued to stick at the oaths, had he not been relieved by Overall’s book, and had not the venerable authority of a Convocation given him a freedom of thinking, which the apprehensions of novelty and singularity had cramped before.[195] He did not consider, as is sometimes represented, that the Bishop and Convocation settled the matter, and that[163] he was to submit as a child to the authoritative decree; but that a door had been thereby opened to the sons of the Church to look at the matter;[196] and that he, having been thus induced to examine it afresh, had for various reasons, which he assigns—some of which, it must be acknowledged, run counter to his previous publications on the subject[197]—arrived at the conclusion that he could conscientiously take the required vow. A terrible storm assailed him after this. Argument, satire, and abuse, sometimes in vulgar prose, sometimes in doggerel rhyme, descended in torrents upon his devoted head. Nonjurors reviled him on the one side; Revolutionists on the other; and people who did not care for either side joined in the old English cry against turncoats and time-servers.[164] Most people maintained he had changed for the sake of loaves and fishes; and, as Mrs. Sherlock had made herself very notorious, and was said to have had immense influence over her husband, she caught a terrible pelting from a literary mob, who assailed her as Xanthippe, Delilah, and Eve, all in one. Sherlock had to pay the penalty, which men, whose new opinions jump in the same direction as their pecuniary interests, must ever pay; but human motives, whether good or evil, lie so far beneath the surface, that the reading of them by even honest historians may widely differ from the reading of them by the only Omniscient One. Contemporaries were too much involved in party strife to take an unbiassed view of Sherlock’s conduct; and writers since have scarcely been able to free themselves from prejudices handed down by the pamphlets of that day. The grave feature of the case affecting the reputation of the Master and Dean, is to be found, not in the new application of a principle which he had long held; but in the repudiation of his old principles, just at the moment when the Battle of the Boyne had destroyed all prospect of James’ restoration—the chance upon which, as Sherlock’s enemies believed, he had ventured hopes of high preferment, during the time of casting in his lot with the poor Nonjurors.[198]

The Battle of the Boyne having established the Revolution, and with it the throne of William, the people who had hailed him as their Deliverer became more than ever impatient towards all who remained disaffected towards his Government.

Lloyd, the nonjuring Bishop of Norwich, a friend,[165] adviser, and correspondent of Sancroft, not being one of the illustrious Seven, had never shared in that halo of confessorship which for awhile had played around their sacred heads; but he had long been, and was still more than ever, regarded as an obstinate, violent, and intriguing Churchman, bent upon overthrowing the new Sovereign, and bringing back to Whitehall the exiled King. His politics, not his religion, made him unpopular; and his letters to his archiepiscopal friend, written in the summer of 1690, betray the fact, that whatever might be the dislike of the London populace to nonjuring Bishops in general, a feeling of hatred prevailed against him in particular, and threatened his security in one of the most unaristocratic districts of the Metropolis.

“I was yesterday,” he wrote on the 5th of August, “forced to a sudden flight, being alarmed by the rabble, who began to appear at their Reformation work in Old Street. I had a message from a good friend last Saturday, which assured me that the rabble would be up in a short time. And on Friday, my housekeeper (being among some of her relations in Cripplegate) brought me word, that the fanatics talked bitterly against the Bishops, and would shortly call them to an account.

“About 9 of the clock yesterday, Mr. Edwards, of Eye, and another gentleman, called upon me, and told me they saw about 150 of the mob very busy in pulling down of houses in Old Street. Within a few minutes the hawker which sells pamphlets brought the same tidings, and, in regard the dangerous crew were so near, I sent forthwith one of my men to see how the affair went abroad, and another to fetch me a hackney coach, into which I got with my wife and child, and straightway took sanctuary in the Temple. From thence I sent for further information, and found that the crew in Old[166] Street was dispersed; partly by Justice Parry coming among them and taking their names and threatening them with informations; and chiefly by a company of the train-bands, who in that nick of time passed that way to muster in the fields.

“About four in the afternoon I returned to my house and found all quiet in the way. If the rabble had continued I would not have failed to send notice to your Grace; and, on the other hand, I resolved not to send a confused uncertain alarm. God be praised, this scarecrow is over, and I hope God will still deliver us from the bloody fangs of cruel saints and scoundrels.”[199]

Six months later the popular fury against men of Lloyd’s order was being fanned afresh, and again he told his sorrows to his old friend:

“Your Grace will see by the enclosed papers how the mob are encouraged to bring some under their discipline: their wrath is cruel, and their malice as keen as razors, but God defend the innocent from their rage.

“There is also published a most devilish Atheistical satire against the Clergy in general, but more especially against poor Nonjurors. I think no age hath seen the like of it,—it’s called a Satire against the Priests.”[200]

Nonjurors lived on both sides the Irish Channel. Soon after the battle which decided the fate of James, though it did not crush the hopes and schemes of his supporters, William had his attention called to the refusal of the Bishop of Ossory to pray for him in public worship. “His Majesty’s command,” said the Secretary of State to the delinquent, “is, that your Lordship be suspended till further order. I know not the terms, being here in a[167] camp, that are used in things of this nature; but I acquaint your Lordship of His Majesty’s present resentment, and can say no more till I hear from your Lordship herein.”[201] Nonjurors on this side of the Channel, however, gave much more trouble than they did on the other.

A scheme for the restoration of James came to light at the end of 1690. The leader of the conspiracy was Richard Graham, Viscount Preston, Secretary of State in the preceding reign, whose patent of nobility had been drawn up at St. Germains, and who retained his seals of office in spite of the Revolution. Secret conferences were held amongst the English Jacobites, and as the result, Lord Preston, with a Mr. Ashton and another companion, were despatched with treasonable papers to the ex-King; but ere they had passed Tilbury Fort, in a smack which was to convey them to the shores of France, they were seized and brought back to London. Preston and Ashton were tried, convicted, and condemned at the Old Bailey. Ashton was executed; Preston was pardoned. As they lay under sentence of death, the sympathies of the Nonjurors eagerly gathered round them, and the following letter from two well-known members of the party, to Sancroft—who still lingered in his Archiepiscopal Palace on the banks of the Thames—shows how earnestly they sought to enlist his offices:—

Turner, Bishop of Ely, was charged with complicity in Preston’s treasonable business, and two suspicious letters were produced, said to be in the Prelate’s handwriting; but I cannot find evidence of their authorship, or any proof in their contents justifying a charge of treason. As Turner immediately hid himself, and then absconded, it looks, notwithstanding, as if he felt a pang of conscious guilt; but concealment in his case seems to have been a difficult matter, for he had such a remarkable nose, that Sancroft, with a play of humour,—which occasionally illumined his misfortunes,—spoke of his friend as resembling Paul’s ship of Alexandria, which carried a well-known sign upon its prow, or beak. Hence, though London was a great wood, it would be hard for one with such a face, however disguised by a patriarchal beard, or by a huge peruke, to escape detection.[203] It is not a[169] little remarkable that, though the deposed Primate prayed for his friend’s safety, he expressed no conviction of his friend’s innocence. The Nonjurors, as we have seen, had been treated with consideration and kindness. Though forfeiting their Sees in February, 1690, after which successors were nominated, the Prelates of the party were allowed to retain their palaces; and even as late as April, 1691, attempts were made by friends of the Government to compromise matters with them, in spite of the increased odium cast on their order by Turner’s conduct: it was proposed that, at least, they should disavow all share in the alleged conspiracy, but Sancroft would do nothing of the kind, easy and reasonable as such a concession seemed.

There remained no alternative but to eject the disaffected, and to induct loyal successors. As the crisis approached, questions were raised and discussed by Nonjurors, touching the treatment of those so inducted. Lloyd, Sancroft’s busy correspondent, now wrote to say how perplexed he felt; for, extreme as might be his views, they were surpassed by the views of others. He reported that they asked, what they should do in case they appeared at any of the new Episcopal elections,—should they oppose them? From such a proposal he shrunk, for to carry it out might incur a premunire. Further, he inquired whether for him to recommend their absenting themselves would not be cowardly? Nonplussed by these problems, he despondingly added, “What, then, is to be done? Here I stick.” His friend Wagstaffe informed him, some had resolved to resist all Erastian intrusion, and expected the displaced Bishops would assert their rights. Lloyd grew testy at such an excess of zeal, and wished to know what the self-appointed critics would advise the Prelates to do? Had not those very critics[170] submitted to deprivation? Of what use would it be for their superiors to do otherwise?[204]

“May it please your Grace,” wrote the indefatigable Lloyd, “I had last Saturday a fit opportunity to discourse with Sir Edward Entwich about the vexatio questio, and found him—upon consideration of the whole matter—to be of the same opinion with Mr. N—— th. The first question that I proposed was, whether it was advisable for us to keep possession till we were ejected by legal processes; his answer was, we might, if we judged it meet, dispute the possession; but then, saith he, you must at last expect to be outed, and to pay the costs and charges of the suit, and to be called to Westminster Hall, and perhaps elsewhere, to answer hard questions, and that with all rigour. I then asked whether he would advise us so to do, and appear for us, and draw pleas as occasions offered? To this his answer was, that he knew not to what purpose we should put ourselves to fruitless trouble; for, saith he, if a happy turn should come, all the proceedings against you will be out of doors. This is the sum of our discourse.”

He adds a paragraph respecting a Nonjuror whose Jacobitism had plunged him into serious danger:

“I saw Dr. B[ea]ch last week, who hopes shortly to be at liberty, or at least to be abroad upon bail.

“It was well for him that the informer blundered in his depositions against him, and indeed, so did the justices who took the information; for there is not in the deposition any express mention of the time or place, when and where the Doctor said, that the same power which put our Saviour on the pinnacle of the Temple, put William and[171] Mary upon the throne; but I am told that there are other informations against him. His successor has broke into his Church in his absence, and got possession in his absence, and this is a very great trouble to the Dr.

“I hear that Mr. Dean of Worcester begins to appear again, and hopes that the storm will blow over him. I heartily wish it may, sed timeo Danaos; for commonly they are not so generous.”[205]

The Dean of Worcester here referred to was Dr. Hickes. A little more than a fortnight before Lloyd’s letter was written, the Dean drew up a protest against his own ejectment, addressed to the Sub-Dean and Prebendaries, idly declaring the appointment of a successor to be illegal, and as idly calling upon them to defend the rights of the dispossessed. This protesting ended in smoke. Hickes and Wagstaffe, as well as Lloyd, had to succumb; so had Frampton of Gloucester, and White of Peterborough. Sancroft yielded only to a legal process; and at last, on Midsummer eve, between seven and eight o’clock, accompanied by the steward of his household and three other friends, he entered a boat at Lambeth ferry, which conveyed the little party to the Temple stairs, where the deprived Primate sought shelter for a few days in Palsgrave Court. One imagines, as amidst the lengthening shadows on the waters that same night he left for ever the towers of the familiar palace, he would cast “one longing, lingering look behind.” But history preserves a more touching picture of the departure of Ken from the city of Wells.

After he had from his pastoral chair in the Cathedral asserted his Canonical right to remain Bishop of the Diocese, he passed through the gardens and crossed the[172] drawbridge over the moat, whilst old and young crowded round him to ask his blessing and say farewell. “Mild, complacent, yet dignified,” remarks the Layman who writes his life, “on retiring with a peaceful conscience from opulence and station to dependence and poverty, as the morning sun shone on the turreted chapel, we naturally imagine he may have shed only one tear, when looking back on those interesting scenes. Perhaps his eye might have rested on the pale faces of some of the poor old men and women who had partaken their Sunday dinner so often, and heard his discourse in the old hall.”[206]

Dr. Beveridge, who will be more particularly noticed hereafter, was offered the See of Bath and Wells; but he was threatened by the Nonjurors, in case he should accept the offer, with the fate of schismatical usurpers, like Gregory and George of Cappadocia, who invaded the See of Alexandria, upon the deposition of the orthodox Athanasius.

A rumour went abroad that the Archdeacon of Colchester had accepted a mitre, in consequence of which friends pestered him with letters for his suspected act, and turned against him his reputation for learning and loyalty. Dr. Lowth prematurely addressed him under an Episcopal title, and expostulated with him in the following terms:—

Whether or not such rebukes and warnings prevented Beveridge from accepting the vacant See, at all events he declined it, and remained a Presbyter till after the death of William.

Nonconformists regarded the Revolution with thankfulness. William was, in their eyes, a Heavensent deliverer, and at weekly and monthly fasts they joined in prayer, that God’s blessing might rest on his forces,[208] which they regarded as being at war with Babylon. It is said that had the London Dissenters been requested to raise a monument to his memory, they would have provided a statue of gold;[209] and Calamy paints in bright colours their payment of taxes, and hearty intercession for both King and Queen. He also alludes to their public ordinations, their loving carriage amongst themselves, and their friendly behaviour towards the Established Church. There is truth in what he says, and we can conceive how, with memories of ancestral troubles, he would rise to enthusiastic delight whilst recording the blessings of the Revolution; but truth throws strong shadows amidst these brilliant hues, and, indeed, he himself, in subsequent portions of his narrative, makes an abatement in his demands on our admiration.

Mutual charity would have been exemplified if Howe’s advice had prevailed, for he urged Conformists and Nonconformists[175] not to magnify diversities of opinion, but to promote the interests of a common Christianity. “If our rulers,” he adds, “shall judge such intercourses conducing to so desirable an end, they may perhaps in due time think it reasonable to put things into that state, that ministers of both sorts may be capable of inviting one another occasionally to the brotherly offices of mutual assistance in each other’s congregations. For which, and all things that tend to make us a happy people, we must wait upon Him in whose hands their hearts are.”[210] But on many people these sentiments fell as idle words; and if by others they were heard for one moment, the very next they were drowned by the din of old controversies, or the outburst of new passions. Beautiful and blessed ideals of union to most were as destitute of all charm for their affections as of power to work themselves out into facts. Catholic-minded men on opposite sides, if unencumbered by partizanship, would have surmounted difficulties, and reached, if not unity of fellowship, yet freedom of intercourse; but then, as always, prejudices in the many defeated endeavours on the part of a few, and reopened breaches when they seemed on the point of being healed.

Death removed some most distinguished Nonconformist Ministers at the era of the Revolution.

John Bunyan, who belongs more to the universal church than to a particular sect, died, as he had lived, in the Baptist communion. He has come before us in a former volume, not as a leader in ecclesiastical affairs, but as a sufferer for conscience’ sake, and as an author of works which have won for him an unparalleled renown. He trod the paths of private life, save that when he came to London his “preaching attracted enormous multitudes;” and it was[176] in the city which had witnessed his vast popularity that he breathed his last. A minister of peace, he took a long journey on horseback to extinguish domestic strife, and on his way afterwards to the Metropolis, brought on a fatal fever, through fatigue and exposure to heavy rains. This occurred in the month of August, 1688, when the throne of James was tottering to its fall, and plans which led to the Revolution were being formed; probably whisperings of what was to happen to his country reached Bunyan’s ears in his last hours. Illness overtook him in the house of his friend Mr. Strudwick, a grocer on Snow Hill, and just before his death he said to his friends, “Weep not for me, but for yourselves. I go to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who will, no doubt, through the mediation of His blessed Son, receive me, though a sinner, where I hope we ere long shall meet to sing the new song and remain everlastingly happy, world without end.” “He felt the ground solid under his feet in passing the black river which has no bridge, and followed his pilgrim into the celestial city.” He expired before the end of August, and was interred in Bunhill Fields; his church at Bedford lamented with unaffected sorrow his loss at the age of 60; and keep the next month days of humiliation and prayer for the heavy bereavement they had sustained.[211]

Dr. John Collinges, a Presbyterian, once Vicar of St. Stephen’s, Norwich, died in 1690. He had assisted Pool in his Annotations, and written practical as well as controversial works. One of them, entitled The Weaver’s Pocket-book, or Weaving Spiritualized, was no doubt suggested to him as he had stood watching the loom in the house of some industrious parishioner in days[177] when the city of Norwich enjoyed the zenith of its manufacturing industry. He left behind a good reputation, being, as his brethren testified, “a man of various learning and excelling as a textuary and a critic, and generally esteemed for his great industry, humanity, and exemplary piety.”

John Flavel ended his days on the 26th of June, 1691, at Exeter. He had, before his death, left the town of Dartmouth, the scene of his long and zealous ministrations, because the rabble, headed by certain aldermen, in 1685 paraded the town, carrying the good man’s effigy to be burnt,—an insult he revenged by praying, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” With his lively imagination he combined intense spiritual emotion, and the following story, which he relates of himself in his Pneumatologia is so curious that, though familiar from frequent quotation, it deserves to be inserted here. It exemplifies a phase of spiritual life belonging to an age which has passed away.[212]

“Being on a journey, he set himself to improve his time by meditation; when his mind grew intent, till at length he had such ravishing tastes of heavenly joys, and such full assurance of his interest therein, that he utterly lost the sight and sense of this world and all its concerns, so that for hours he knew not where he was. At last, perceiving himself faint from a great loss of blood from his nose, he alighted from his horse and sat down at a[178] spring, where he washed and refreshed himself; earnestly desiring, if it were the will of God, that he might there leave the world. His spirits reviving, he finished his journey in the same delightful frame. And all that night passed without a wink of sleep, the joy of the Lord still overflowing him, so that he seemed an inhabitant of the other world. After this, an heavenly serenity and sweet peace continued long with him; and for many years he called that day one of the days of heaven, and professed he understood more of the life of heaven by it, than by all the discourses he had heard or the books he ever read.”[213]

Richard Baxter was an old man at the time of the Revolution, weighed down by suffering; and the Toleration Act came too late to give scope to energies which, had the event happened twenty years earlier, would have been ardently spent in tilling the newly-opened fields of labour. Yet, when the adoption of the Doctrinal Articles of the Church was required as the condition of exercising a Nonconformist ministry, the trembling hand of the veteran theologist could not resist an impulse to write down scholastically the sense in which the Articles were to be subscribed. It was his own sense, yet it was also, as he believed, one in which many of his brethren concurred. Few, it is said, took notice of his explication, and at this we are not surprised, as his explication contains more in the way of suggestive thought than of explicit definition. His metaphysics, warmed by zeal for practical religion, appear distinctly in this farewell effort. He has something abstruse to say as to the glorified body of Christ, and upon some other points; and he lays down a dictum, often repeated since in a wider sense than he specifies, with regard to legislation in Church and State:[179] “God’s laws are the supreme civil laws, man’s laws are but by-laws.” He also insists upon the doctrine of the Apostle James, as well as the doctrine of the Apostle Paul; and, after charitably saying, “all were not accursed that hoped well of Socrates, Antonine, Alexander, Severus, Cicero, Epictetus, Plutarch,” and others, he adds, “there is no name, that is, no Messiah, to be saved by, but Christ.”[214]

In a tenement near his friend Sylvester’s, in Charterhouse Square, Baxter spent his last days; and when disabled from preaching in his friend’s meeting-house, he preached in his own dwelling, almost dying in the exercise of his favourite employment. “It would doubtless,” it is said, “have been his joy to have been transfigured on the Mount.” “He talked in the pulpit,” as one reports, “with great freedom about another world, like one who had been there, and was come as a sort of express from thence to make report concerning it.” His busy pen was employed as long as he could grasp it with his fingers, in writing something for the benefit of his fellow-men. At last growing infirmities confined him to his chamber, and then to his bed. There his vigorous mind “abode rational, strong in faith and hope, arguing itself into, and preserving itself in, that patience, hope, and joy, through grace.” With unaffected humility he spoke of himself as a sinner worthy of being condemned for the best duty he ever did, whose hopes were all “from the free mercy of God in Christ.” Reminded of the good which his works had produced, he replied, “I was but a pen in God’s hands, and what praise is due to a pen?” When extremity of pain constrained him to pray for release, he would check himself with the words, “It[180] is not fit for me to prescribe;—when Thou wilt, what Thou wilt, and how Thou wilt!” “Oh! how unsearchable are His ways, and His paths past finding out; the reaches of His providence we cannot fathom! Do not think the worse of religion for what you see me suffer.” He had assurance of future happiness, and great peace and joy in believing, only lamenting that because of pain he could not express all he felt. Still he spoke of heaven, and quoting the Apostle’s description of the celestial Church, remarked, that it deserved a thousand thousand thoughts. With characteristic width of sympathy, he spent many of his last hours in praying for a distracted world, and a divided Church. Physical pain, his old companion, continued to the last. “I have pain,” he said, “there is no arguing against sense; but I have peace—I have peace.” The catalogue of his diseases is enough to excite pity in the most inhuman, and our sensibilities are positively tortured by the pathetic descriptions he gives of himself. They illustrate the beautifulness of his oft-quoted answer to the question, How he did?—“Almost well.” “On Monday, about five in the evening,” says Sylvester, “Death sent his harbinger to summon him away. A great trembling and coldness awakened nature, and extorted strong cries, which continued for some time;” at length he ceased, waiting in patient expectation for his change. The gentle cry in the ear of his housekeeper, “Death, death!” betokened full consciousness at the last moment, and turning to thank a friend for his visit, he exclaimed, “The Lord teach you to die.” About four o’clock on the morning of the 8th of December, 1691, he had done for ever with the sorrows of mortality, and entered on the saints’ everlasting rest. His body sleeps in Christchurch beside the ashes of his wife and mother. Many vied in doing honour to his memory. Conformists as well as[181] Nonconformists carried him to the grave, and made great lamentations over him; a train of mourning-coaches reached from Merchant Taylors’ Hall—whence the corpse was carried—to the place of burial.

At the commencement of the year 1692, another of the old Puritans left this world. He represented a class which had borne the brunt of the battle, and who, when the Revolution brought peace, loved to relate stories of sufferings which promoted Dissent, after the severer laws against it were relaxed.

Francis Holcroft, son of a knight residing at Westham, near London, was sent to Clare Hall, Cambridge, where Dr. Cudworth was Master, and David Clarkson a Fellow. Under the instructions of the latter, the gownsman became a Puritan, and as, on a Sunday morning, he sat over the College Gate, in a chamber which he shared in common with young Tillotson, described as “his bed-fellow,” he sometimes observed a horse, which was brought up for one of the Fellows, who served the living of Littlington, and which was frequently led away without its master. Pitying the sheep without a shepherd, the young Puritan offered to supply the neglected parish, where his services were crowned with signal success. Promoted in 1655 to the Vicarage of Bassingbourne, he became exceedingly popular, and, not content with the effect of his sermons, he felt anxious to establish ecclesiastical discipline, and therefore formed a Church upon Congregational principles. At the Restoration things changed. Holcroft was ejected, and the sheep were scattered. He met them as he could, some in one place, some in another; but the circuit of his labours becoming too wide for his failing strength, he arranged that four members should assist him in pastoral work. Worship was disturbed by the beating of drums, and the pastor was imprisoned; but the greater[182] the persecution the more his popularity increased, and when silenced as a preacher, he sent pastorals round his wide rural diocese. For some time the congregations to which he ministered, formed of Baptists and Pædobaptists, constituted only one Church; but after the Revolution they settled down into distinct communities. The memory of Holcroft still lingers in the neighbourhood of Cambridge, and old barns in which he ministered were pointed out a few years ago. He died on the 6th of January, 1692. Before his departure, spiritual tranquility, awhile disturbed, was happily restored, for he died exclaiming, “I know that if the earthly house of this tabernacle be dissolved, I have a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.” He sleeps in a small burial-ground beside the churchyard of Oakington, four miles from Cambridge. Three flat stones cover the spot hallowed by the remains of two other Nonconformist ministers, as well as his own. Over his resting-place are inscribed the appropriate words, “They that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament; and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars for ever and ever.”

Several others of the ejected died about the period of the Revolution. Veneration for them increased as death swept them away: their virtues were embalmed; their names were canonized. Collectors of anecdotes published whatever they could find respecting the departed, sometimes accompanied by severe reflections upon the old laws which had thrust them out of the gates of the Establishment. People in Derbyshire were told that rich as might be their treasures in wool and lead, the shepherds they had lost were more precious than all the flocks grazing on their beautiful hills; and the sermons they had preached were costlier than all the metals dug out of[183] their capacious mines. After a short beadroll of pastors in the county, the writer asks, What hath cast away the shields of the mighty? Uniformity. What hath slain the beauty of England, and made the mighty fall? Uniformity. What hath despoiled the neck of the Church, like the town of David builded for an armoury, whereon there hung a thousand bucklers, all shields of mighty men? Uniformity.[215]

It is a curious coincidence that Tillotson, Barrow, and Howe were all born in the year 1630. Tillotson’s father lived at Sowerby, near Halifax; a respectable clothier, a decided Puritan, a zealous Calvinist, yet at that time an Episcopalian in practice, for he had his child baptized in the Church of his native village, and a gentleman, afterwards Rector of Thornhill, stood godfather. When this little boy came to be Archbishop, his Puritan parentage, and the fact of his father being a Baptist, occasioned reproach; it was said that he had never been baptized in any way, and a preacher before the House of Commons, after Tillotson’s elevation to the Primacy, is supposed to have alluded to the rumour, when he declared, with more absurdity than wit, that there were fathers of the Church who never were her sons. The register of Sowerby, however, sets that question at rest, showing that he was baptized in the parish church; and another moot point touching Tillotson’s ecclesiastical life, namely, whether he was ever episcopally ordained, is now also settled; it appears he received ordination from a Scotch Bishop—the Bishop of Galloway.[216]

Educated at Cambridge under the Commonwealth by Puritan tutors, he afterwards became identified with the[185] Latitudinarian school of Divines, but in 1661 we find him amongst the Presbyterians, preaching a morning exercise at Cripplegate. He certainly conformed in 1662, and that fact itself implies his submission to Episcopal ordination. At an early period he attained celebrity as a preacher, although he read his sermons, and never was able to preach without a manuscript. It is related of him that on one occasion he made an attempt to speak extempore upon a plain text, and one upon which he has five discourses in his printed works; yet he found himself so much at a loss, “that after about ten minutes spent with great pain to himself, and no great satisfaction to his audience, he came down with a resolution never to make the like attempt for the future.”[217] He was successively Curate at Cheshunt; Rector of Ketton, or Kedington in the County of Suffolk; preacher at Lincoln’s Inn; Tuesday Lecturer at St. Lawrence, Jewry; and Canon and Dean of Canterbury. After the Revolution he accepted the Deanery of St. Paul’s, and his position in reference to public affairs at that juncture has been noticed already; here it will be sufficient to trace the steps by which he reached the highest position in the Church of England. In some way Tillotson had become a personal favourite with the Prince of Orange, and had been desired to preach before him at St. James’s, soon after his arrival in London. Burnet interested himself zealously on the Dean’s behalf; but, beyond personal grounds, the popularity of this Divine as a preacher, his eminent abilities, his opposition to the policy of the late King, his liberal politics, his desire for Comprehension, his conciliatory temper, and his moderation in ecclesiastical affairs, recommended him to the new Sovereign as[186] fitted to occupy the post vacated by Sancroft. The very day Tillotson kissed hands on his appointment to the Deanery in September, 1689, the King told him, in reply to his thanks for an office which had set him at ease for the rest of his life, that this was no great matter, for his services would soon be needed in the highest office of the Church.[218] In February, 1690, William pressed upon Tillotson the acceptance of the Primacy; of his extreme reluctance to accept it there can be no doubt; his conversation with his Royal Master, his correspondence with Lady Rachel Russell, and his own private memoranda, prove that if ever a man honestly said, Nolo Episcopari, Tillotson did. What he wrote within a year afterwards shows that to him the archiepiscopal throne was a bed, not of roses, but of thorns. The congé d’élire was issued May the 1st, and his consecration followed on Whit-Sunday at St. Mary-le-Bow, when the congregation included some of the principal Whig nobility, and his progress along Cheapside was an ovation amidst crowds who admired both his eloquence and his liberality.

He took possession of Lambeth Palace in November, 1691, having first repaired the building, altered the windows, wainscoted the rooms, and erected a large apartment for his wife, he being one of the earliest Archbishops living there in lawful wedlock.

With congratulations from friends there came insults from foes. Arian, Socinian, Deist, Atheist, were titles bestowed on his Grace; and in allusion to the doubts respecting his baptism, he received the nickname of Undipped John. His manner of bearing such treatment showed his proficiency in the Christian virtues of patience and meekness. One day, when he was conversing[187] with a gentleman, a servant brought in a sealed packet containing a mask. The Archbishop smiled, and said, “This is a gentle rebuke, if compared with some others in black and white,” pointing to papers lying on the table. A bundle of letters, found after his death, exhibited a memorandum in his own handwriting, “These are libels. I pray God forgive them; I do.”[219]

It is interesting to follow Sancroft into his retirement. He left the Metropolis—never to see it again—in August, 1691, for Fresingfield, a village in Suffolk, where his family had been settled for generations, where his ancestors lay buried in the parish church, and where he himself had been born and baptized. He went down at harvest-time, the sweet air and quiet of the place being, as he said, so preferable to the smoke and noise of London. Presently we find him busy in building a new house, reckoning up the time it would take to daub and tile it, to clothe and cover it in, amidst the dews and mists which might be expected to begin by St. Bartholomew’s-day—then at hand. He complains of being weakly, and describes himself as eating bread-and-butter in a morning, and “superbibing a second dish of coffee after it;” waiting to see what that, and time, and native air would do for his health. He gave up pills, and swallowed juniper-berries, and lived upon plain food, and ate with a keener appetite than he had been accustomed to at Lambeth. In the late autumn the new house remained incomplete; there was winter work to do within doors, paving and flooring, daubing and ceiling, plastering, glazing, and wainscoting, making doors and laying hearths; the old tenement, in the meantime, being packed close from end to end with the Bishop, his little household and workmen.[220] The[188] superintendence of building, which appears to have occupied him for a time, presents a strange contrast to previous employments in the Church and the Palace, the Court and the Council-Board; and the simplicity of Sancroft’s rural life appears simpler still when we think of the palatial splendour in which he had previously moved. He wished to shut out the world; he sometimes felt like a dead man out of mind; old friends dropped off, and tales of sorrow aroused his sympathies; yet he seems, on the whole, to have spent a pleasant time down in Suffolk, although those who disliked his nonjuring principles did what they could to plague his peace. He was reported to be engaged with some of his brethren in plots for the restoration of the exiled Monarch; and Sprat, Bishop of Rochester, came under suspicion of the same offence, in consequence of which he was arrested in his orchard at Bromley one day, whilst quietly working out the heads of a sermon.[221] In the end, these charges of conspiracy proved to be abominable fabrications, which Sprat took care fully to expose.[222] Other Nonjurors were suspected of treasonable intrigues, and Dean Hickes fell into great trouble. “If the persons,” it is said in a letter written at the time, “now malignantly fermented, should find him walking abroad, they would certainly take him up and bring him forthwith to the King’s Bench, and be ready with an information against him.” The Dean was[189] advised to abscond for the present, and so he became, “like the tortoise in winter-time, earthed for some days.” Dr. Bryan about the same time heard that a warrant had been issued for his apprehension, on account of his having written “flat treason.” “It was advisable for him to step out of the way.” Ten days later, Bishop Lloyd, to whom we are indebted for these snatches of information, wrote again to the archiepiscopalian recluse, that he found the Dean had removed his quarters, and desired to be very private, and that messengers were searching for Dr. Bryan.[223]

Sancroft, who escaped arrest because Sprat, when confronted with his accusers, exposed their falsehoods, seems to have been more annoyed a few months before by a very different accusation. “The spirit of calumny, the persecution of the tongue, dogs me even into this wilderness. Dr. Lake, of Garlick Hill, and others, have (as I am informed) filled your city with a report that I go constantly to this parish church, and pray for I know not whom, nor how, and receive the Holy Sacrament; so that my cousin had something to do to satisfy even my friends that it was quite otherwise.”[224] The fallen Primate’s intense dislike to the Establishment—as bitter as could be manifested by any virulent Dissenter—here bursts out in unmistakable fashion. The feeling remained as a sort of monomania to the day of his death. It kept him from setting foot over the threshold of a parish church, and led him to frame an instrument by which he appointed Lloyd, the deprived Bishop of Norwich, his Vicar in all ecclesiastical matters,[225] and inaugurated a voluntary and schismatical Episcopalian Church.

At the end of the year 1691 he removed into his new[190] house, and on New Year’s-day at family worship he officiated himself, “in a very cold room where there never was a fire.” He would not employ a Chaplain. The preparation and arrangement of Laud’s MSS. for the press, occupied a good deal of his time, after which, in the month of November, 1693, his end approached. “It touched my spirits extremely,” says Mr. North, who visited him, “to see the low estate of this poor old saint; and with what wonderful regard and humility he treated those who visited him, and particularly myself.” His pious ejaculations were carefully recorded by his friends, and we are glad to find him saying to a visitor, “You and I have gone different ways in these late affairs, but I trust heaven’s gates are wide enough to receive us both. What I have done, I have done in the integrity of my heart.” The approach of mortality expands human charity, yet the ruling passion may be strong in death. Hence, though the dying man felt kindly towards all, he insisted that only Nonjurors should read prayers by his bedside, or officiate at his funeral. He entreated that God would bless and preserve His poor suffering Church, which by the Revolution had been almost destroyed; that he would bless and preserve the King, Queen, and Prince, and in His due time restore to them their undoubted rights.[226]

Sancroft had an active but narrow intellect, a playful but feeble imagination, a careful but perverted judgment. His powers had been cultivated by study, and his productions indicate compass and command of learning. Living in a narrow circle, his prejudices were strong; and bitter memories of Presbyterian oppression at Cambridge followed him to the grave. His nature was not destitute of affection and generosity, and he seems not to have[191] been morose; he was simple in his living, rather than ascetic in his temper. By no means a Ritualist, he decidedly opposed Romanism, though his sentiments were what would be called decidedly High Church. Of his conscientiousness, honesty, and self-denial, the sacrifice of the Primacy is a sufficient proof; and of his obstinacy, the conduct he manifested on leaving Lambeth, and the persistency he showed in nonjuring habits, afford abundant evidence.

Tillotson survived his predecessor little more than twelve months. He did not occupy his See long enough to accomplish much either as Bishop or Primate. In neither capacity has he left any memorials. No injunctions from him appear in the Archiepiscopal Register, and his biographer makes no mention of his visitations. We are told that he convened an assembly of Bishops at Lambeth, when they agreed with him upon certain regulations, which remained at his death unpublished, as he preferred they should appear with Royal as well as Episcopal authority, and he had not time to complete arrangements for that purpose. His biographer furnishes a list of his deeds, which form but a meagre total for a primacy of even two years and a half, when so much needed to be done. Le Neve, who is particular in noting archiepiscopal acts, has next to nothing to say of Tillotson’s archiepiscopal career. The most he can do is to supply extracts from a MS. diary, eulogizing the Primate’s eloquence and charities, and stating that William, after his Grace’s death, never mentioned him without some testimony of esteem. He used to say to Mr. Chadwick—son-in-law of the Archbishop—“I loved your father: I never knew an honester man, and I never had a better friend.”[227]

From what we know of him, we should judge that the deficiency of results during his episcopate is to be attributed more to the difficulties of the times and the inconvenience of circumstances, than to want of ability or the absence of devotedness.

He was seized, in the Chapel at Whitehall, with paralysis on the 18th of November, 1694; and though the fit crept over him slowly, he would not call for assistance, lest he should disturb Divine worship. His death occurred on the 22nd, at the age of 65.

His character, as compared with Sancroft’s, has been differently viewed by enemies and friends. Nonjurors said that his predecessor devised no project for revolutionizing the Church, implying that Tillotson did; that his predecessor was no Latitudinarian, more than insinuating that Tillotson was; and when they spoke of Sancroft as a true Father, they meant to affirm that his successor was by no means such. “Intruder,” “thief,” “robber,” “ecclesiastical usurper,” were epithets fastened on the Archbishop of the Revolution. Burnet, on the other hand, extols him as a faithful friend, a gentle enemy, with a clear head and a tender heart, without superstition in his religion, and, as a preacher, the best of his age.[228]

In saying so much, Burnet probably went no further than facts warrant. And I would add, that if Sancroft made a sacrifice in renouncing the Archbishopric, Tillotson, according to his private confessions, made scarcely less sacrifice in accepting it.

Intellectually he was a man of eminence;[229] what Burnet advances cannot be gainsayed; for Tillotson’s writings[193] indicate a rare amount of common sense and of calm judgment, the more remarkable in an age of manifold passions;[230] and he shows eminent precision and force in stating propositions and arguments, at a time when a great deal of loose reasoning passed muster. His sermons are chiefly remarkable in this point of view. Free from Puritan stiffness, and what many would call Puritan enthusiasm, free also from that academical affectation which had so long offended pure taste,—they were couched in the language of common life, and people felt a strange pleasure, which they could not describe, at hearing from the pulpit language such as they heard at their own fireside. He seems to have aimed at that which ought to be the object of every Christian preacher, to translate the truths of the Gospel into such forms of thought and utterance as were suited to the age in which he lived. He spoke upon religion just as men talk upon every-day topics; and thus he brought down Divinity to the level of his congregation. He could be earnest and even vehement in the inculcation of truth and duty; and never would he be more acceptable to a large class of his hearers than when, with tact and warmth, he exposed the errors of Popery—an opportunity for doing which he rarely, if ever, missed. His habit, too, of insisting upon the reasonableness of almost everything he taught would coincide with the current which, in educated circles, had strongly set in against the enforcement of morality and religion on grounds of authority. Preachers not only help to promote, but they reflect the spirit of their own times. Their modes of[194] teaching are fashioned by it. A reaction had arisen against the authority of the Church, of the Fathers, of the Schoolmen, and of the Reformers; consequently, sermons filled with quotations and appeals to great names were no longer in request. Even Scripture came to be less favourably used in the way of exclusive authority, than in the way of addition to the force of reasoning. Texts were with many not so much corner-stones, as pillars and buttresses. Tillotson made a large use of Scripture, but the common key-note with him was the reasonableness of the doctrines he laid down. I should suppose that his appearance, his voice, and his manner in the pulpit—the fact of what he was, as well as the circumstance of what he said, and that indefinable something which contributes so much to a speaker’s popularity—added immensely to the impressiveness of his elocution. There is for modern readers nothing attractive in his style, quite the reverse. I know scarcely any other popular sermons so hard to read. Some are exceedingly dry and uninteresting.[231] From natural temperament he lacked what is signified by the word unction. He has no strokes of pathos, and the spirit of his theology adds to the defect, by depriving his sermons, to some extent, of that light and beauty, that tenderness and power, which proceed from a clear insight into the deepest spiritual wants of humanity, and the supply made for them in the unsearchable riches of Christ.

Wit was not wanting amongst Tillotson’s gifts. “I hate a fanatic in lawn sleeves,” cried one of his detractors—“I hate a knave in any sleeves,” replied the Prelate. He said South “wrote like a man, but bit like a dog;”[195] and when South replied, “he would rather bite like a dog, than fawn like one,” Tillotson rejoined, “that for his part he would choose to be a spaniel rather than a cur.”[232] Sancroft was a Tory. Tillotson, through the discipline of the Revolution, had cast off the last remnant of the doctrine which he unfortunately inculcated at the time of Russel’s execution. Tillotson had by his Puritan birth, childhood, and education, imbibed feelings which he never completely lost; and his personal sympathies with those who retained a Puritan creed continued to live in his later days, fostered by friendly intercourse with members of nonconforming communions. Yet perhaps he had not a whit more of love for Nonconformity than High Churchmen, whose reputation for charity his own completely eclipsed.

As in our day, so it was in the days of William the III., when a vacancy occurred in the See of Canterbury, different names were suggested for its supply. Stillingfleet, Bishop of Worcester, and Hall, Bishop of Bristol, were both mentioned, and their merits canvassed, but after the lot had been shaken a little in the Royal urn, guided by the Queen, it fell upon Thomas Tenison, Bishop of Lincoln. He had been a distinguished London clergyman, prominent in opposing Popery and King James. A nobleman, wishing to secure the Bishopric of Lincoln for some one else, and to prejudice the Queen against Tenison, told Her Majesty that he had delivered a funeral sermon for Nell Gwyn, and had praised that concubine of Charles II. “I have heard as much,” replied Mary; “this is a sign that that poor unfortunate woman died penitent; for if I can read a man’s heart through his looks, had not she made a truly pious and Christian end, the Doctor could[196] never have been induced to speak well of her.”[233] Tenison’s conduct in the diocese of Lincoln increased the high estimation in which he was held by Mary, and consequently he was nominated to Canterbury on the 8th of December, 1694, and confirmed in his election in the Church of St. Mary-le-Bow on the 16th of January, 1695.

Between those two dates, his Royal patroness sickened with the small-pox, three days before Christmas, and died three days after. I shall employ a passage in the funeral sermon which he preached on the occasion, not only because it well describes the event, but also because it exhibits the preacher’s style, and occasioned at the time considerable controversy.

“Some few days before the feast of our Lord’s nativity, she found herself indisposed. I will not say that of this affliction she had any formal presage, but yet there was something that looked like an immediate preparation for it. I mean her choosing to hear read more than once a little before it, the last sermon of a good and learned man (now with God) upon this subject: ‘What, shall we receive good from the hand of God, and shall we not receive evil?’ This indisposition speedily grew up into a dangerous distemper; as soon as this was understood, the earliest care of this charitable mistress was for the removing of such immediate servants, as might by distance, be preserved in health. Soon after this she fixed the times of prayers in that chamber to which her sickness had confined her.

“On that very day she showed how sensible she was of death, and how little she feared it. She required him who officiated there to add that collect in the Communion[197] of the Sick, in which are these words, ‘That whensoever the soul shall depart from the body, it may be, without spot, presented unto Thee.’ ‘I will,’ said she, ‘have this collect read twice every day. All have need to be put in mind of death, and Princes as much as anybody else.’

“On Monday the flattering disease occasioned some hopes, though they were but faint ones. On the next day, the festival of Christ’s birth, those hopes were raised into a kind of assurance, and there was joy, a great joy seen in the countenances of all good people. That joy endured but for a day, and that day was closed with a very dismal night. The disease showed itself in various forms, and small hopes of life were now left. Then it was that he who performed the holy offices, believed himself obliged to acquaint the good Queen of the small hopes all had of any likelihood of her recovery. She received the tidings with a courage agreeable to the strength of her faith. Loath she was to terrify those about her; but for herself, she seemed neither to fear death, nor to covet life. It was, you may imagine, high satisfaction to hear her say a great many most Christian things, and this among them: ‘I believe I shall now soon die, and I thank God I have, from my youth, learned a true doctrine, that repentance is not to be put off to a death-bed.’ That day she called for prayers a third time, fearing she had slept a little, when they were the second time read; for she thought a duty was not performed if it was not minded.

“On Thursday she prepared herself for the blessed communion, to which she had been no stranger from the 15th year of her age. She was much concerned that she found herself in so dozing a condition, so she expressed it. To that, she added, ‘Others had need pray for me,[198] seeing I am so little able to pray for myself.’ However, she stirred up her attention, and prayed to God for His assistance, and God heard her, for from thenceforth to the end of the office, she had the perfect command of her understanding, and was intent upon the great work she was going about; and so intent, that when a second draught was offered her, she refused it, saying, ‘I have but a little time to live, and I would spend it a better way.’

“The holy elements being ready, and several Bishops coming to be communicants, she repeated piously and distinctly, but with a low voice (for such her weakness had then made it) all the parts of the holy office which were proper for her, and received, with all the signs of a strong faith and fervent devotion, the blessed pledges of God’s favour, and thanked Him with a joyful heart that she was not deprived of the opportunity. She owned also, that God had been good to her, beyond her expectation, though in a circumstance of smaller importance, she having, without any indecency or difficulty, taken down that bread, when it had not been so easy for her, for some time, to swallow any other.

“That afternoon she called for prayers somewhat earlier than the appointed time, because she feared (that was her reason) that she should not long be so well composed. And so it came to pass; for every minute after this ’twas plain that death made nearer and nearer approaches. However, this true Christian kept her mind as fixed, as possible she could, upon the best things; and there were read, by her directions, several psalms of David, and also a chapter of a pious book concerning trust in God. Toward the latter end of it, her apprehension began to fail, yet not so much but that she could say a devout Amen to that prayer in which her pious soul was recommended to that God who gave it.

“During all this time there appeared nothing of impatience, nothing of frowardness, nothing of anger; there was heard nothing of murmuring, nothing of impertinence, nothing of ill-sound, and scarce a number of disjointed words.

“In all these afflictions the King was greatly afflicted; how sensibly, and yet how becomingly, many saw, but few have skill enough to describe; I am sure I have not. At last, the helps of art and prayers and tears not prevailing, a quarter before one on Friday morning, after two or three small strugglings of nature, and without such agonies as in such cases are common, she fell asleep.”[234]

I have thought it best to give this extract without any abridgment, as certain omissions in the account of the Queen’s last hours became the subject of much controversy.

Mary was buried in Westminster Abbey, with all the pomp of a purple and gold coffin, banners, and escutcheons, Lords in scarlet and ermine, and Commons in black mantles; far more interesting than all that is the following incident, carefully recorded: “A robin redbreast, which had taken refuge in the Abbey, was seen constantly on her hearse, and was looked upon with tender affection for its seeming love to the lamented Queen.”[235]

Loyalty to William, and sympathy with him in his great loss, were expressed in numerous addresses. A large collection of elegiac poems were published at Cambridge, entitled, Lacrymæ Cantabrigienses, &c., by a list of Dons, some of whom became Bishops; and the London Clergy vied with each other in their eulogiums—to use the words of a contemporary letter-writer, playing “the fool in their hyperbolical commendation of the Queen,[200] that looks like fulsome flattery, and some expressions bordering upon blasphemy.”[236] The Presbyterians, headed by Dr. Bates, presented an address of condolence to His Majesty.

The nonjuring Clergy were much excited by the publication of Tenison’s sermon, since it represented the Queen as eminently religious and devout, but said not a word of any repentance for having assumed her father’s crown, and for the filial impiety considered to be involved in such conduct. A letter to this effect, published in the month of March, 1695, created an intense sensation, being attributed to Bishop Ken. It is printed as his composition in the Memoirs of Tenison; but the Layman who wrote Ken’s life pronounces it “a tissue of bitter obloquy against the Queen and the Archbishop, wholly inconsistent with the meek spirit of the author of the Practice of Divine Love.”[237] Upon internal grounds he rejects its genuineness. I feel disposed to do the same. Tenison also, it appears, doubted it, but I find no notice of Ken’s having disavowed the authorship; and we must not forget how possible it is[201] for an amiable and pious man, under the influence of what he regards as duty, to say things which run counter to the generally calm and quiet current of his life.

Tenison’s sermon was zealously defended by an anonymous pamphleteer, who included within his defence funeral discourses delivered by other dignitaries; and whilst the press was occupied by this controversy, the friends and agents of James were rejoicing in the death of Mary as endangering the position of William. The Church of England, it was now thought, would be weaned from his cause, by the outburst of his Presbyterian predilections, even to the overthrow of Episcopacy. The ruin of its interests seemed at hand, unless the Revolution could be revolutionized. Ten thousand men, the Jacobite plotters surmised, would suffice for the reconquest of the kingdom, since the Church of England party, who had been for William only on Mary’s account, were, it was thought, now entirely alienated from him. The confusion occasioned by her removal was relied upon as a proof of the inclination of the people to see their Stuart King back at St. James.[238]

In noticing the deaths of Sancroft, Tillotson, and Mary, we have passed over a period marked by one of those silent changes which often elude the notice of historians. The change referred to is connected very closely with religious freedom. We have had frequent occasion to notice restrictions on the liberty of the press. It is not necessary to go back further than 1662, when Lord Clarendon’s Act for licensing books was passed. The Act proscribed the printing and selling of heretical, schismatical, blasphemous, seditious, and treasonable publications. Nothing was to appear contrary to the Christian[202] faith, or the doctrines or discipline of the Church of England. Books on law required a license from the Lord Chancellor or the Lord Chief Justices; books of history, a license from the Secretaries of State; books of divinity and philosophy, a license from the Archbishop of Canterbury. The folly of such restrictions—proved by their futility when evaded, and by their mischievousness when carried into effect—needs no comment. The Act now noticed was made to be in force for two years. It was then continued. In 1685 it was re-enacted for seven years. It continued through the Revolution; and in 1692 was renewed under the Tories for two years more. At four different times, from 1694 to 1698, attempts were made in Parliament to prepare new Bills for licensing printing presses, and the Whigs on one occasion seemed on the point of following the example of their political rivals. Movement in the old direction went so far once, that a restrictive Bill passed the Lords and was read in the Commons—to be thrown out on a second reading. Church and State thus narrowly missed being shackled again in the exercise of rights ever precious to enlightened humanity; and the year 1694, though unmarked in history, is illustrious in fact through the melting away for ever of a long-continued and mischievous licensing law. Not, however, as we shall presently see, that all legislative interference with the publishers of opinions then terminated; but a great obstacle vanished out of the path to that wide intellectual liberty which as a nation we now enjoy.

Tillotson, shortly before his death, as already related, was engaged with his Episcopal brethren in drawing up certain ecclesiastical regulations to be issued on their authority, but which he afterwards felt would be more effective if published in the King’s name. Shortly after Tenison’s accession to the Archiepiscopate, injunctions were sent forth by Royal command, touching points exactly of the nature indicated to have been discussed in prior Episcopal meetings at Lambeth. When we consider the time of their appearance, we have no doubt the new Archbishop adopted the draft of his predecessor. It appeared in the form of a Royal proclamation, recommending care in conferring orders, condemning pluralities and non-residence, and urging upon Bishops to watch over their Clergy, and promote, through them, the celebration of Sacraments, the visitation of the sick, and the catechetical instruction of the young.[239]

The publication of these articles in the King’s name is a fact not to be lightly passed over. Royal letters had been issued by Queen Elizabeth for the reform of ecclesiastical affairs, yet none of them dealt so particularly with abuses as did this mandate of William’s. It is remarkable that Charles I.—the opposite in ecclesiastical and[204] political sentiments to the hero of the Revolution—had addressed to Laud a number of instructions, which strongly resemble those now under notice.[240] After the Restoration, although Charles II. by several missives had exercised immediate authority over the Church, and had given explicit directions as to how the Clergy were to preach,[241] such orders as approach nearest to those of William are found to bear the simple impress of archiepiscopal authority.[242] What had been attempted in the way of Church reform by Sancroft appears in the shape of an agreement between himself and the other Prelates to do things formerly enunciated.[243] The grounds upon which Tillotson and Tenison arrived at the determination to seek Church reform under cover of Royal authority, do not appear; but the proclamations indicate that, at the time, the chief spiritual rulers of the land must have had high views of the prerogatives of the Crown. If since Elizabeth’s Reformation the title of Head of the Church[244] had not been legally employed, all which that title could be taken to mean, successive Archbishops of Canterbury—Tillotson and Tenison—were ready to concede; and what is a little curious, in making this concession they could find a precedent in the acts of Archbishop Laud under Charles I.[205] A still more striking example of the interference of the Crown with purely religious subjects will soon come under our notice.

The fact is, that what is generally called Erastianism attained more power than ever after the Revolution. The State ruled the Church. In the matter of Toleration it maintained the liberties of Nonconformity against the designs of bigoted Churchmen, and in the management of internal affairs it sought to promote the interests of a moderate and salutary reform.

A circular from the Archbishop, addressed to each of his suffragan Bishops, followed on the 16th of July, 1695; and in it, without referring to the Royal communication made in the month of February, he specifies a number of particulars which had been considered by him and such of his brethren as were at the time in or near London. These particulars relate to certain religious matters—to the public reading in church of the Act against profane cursing and swearing, and to catechetical instruction—but they relate also to a number of subjects connected with temporalities, such as the prevention of Simoniacal covenants, the better payment of curates, dilapidations, glebe lands, surrogates, and the removal of clergymen from one diocese to another. The employment of proper care in examinations for orders—a point of great religious importance—is, however, enforced at length, and each Bishop is urged to lay it upon the conscience of the candidate, to observe such fasting as is prescribed upon Ember-days, and to give himself to meditation and prayer. It is worth noticing that the third of the injunctions calls attention to the 55th canon, which enjoins the bidding of prayer for the King before sermon; “it being commonly reported,” says the Archbishop, “that it is the manner of some in every diocese either to use the Lord’s Prayer (which the canons prescribe[206] as the conclusion of the prayer, and not the whole prayer) or at least, to leave out the King’s titles, and to forbear to pray for the Bishops as such.”[245] The sentence reveals a state of things serious, if not alarming, both to the King and the Bishops. Plainly there brooded disaffection towards the existing power in Church and State. Jacobites and Nonjurors troubled the British Israel, and manifested their feelings in the House of God. Parish churches, if not cathedrals, presented Sunday after Sunday proofs of disloyalty and spiritual revolt. A new species of Nonconformity ate its way into the hearts of Englishmen—a fact to be illustrated in subsequent portions of this history.

Between the months of February and July, to which the Royal and the Episcopal letters belonged, there occurred an incident which comes in juxtaposition with what has been related of ecclesiastical powers exercised by the Crown. The Archbishop of Canterbury was in the month of May nominated as the first of the Lords Justices of England for the administration of public affairs during His Majesty’s absence in Holland and Flanders.

William had repeatedly left England since the Revolution. In 1691 he was absent from January to March, and from May to October; in 1692 from March to October; in 1693 from March to November; in 1694 from May to November. Like Richard Coeur de Lion, like the three Edwards, like the fifth Henry, William of Orange was a man of war from his youth, and his military vocation led him, as it led them, away from the peaceful duties of home government. As they at the head of steel-clad knights and sturdy bowmen marched over the Tweed or through Normandy, Picardy, and Poitou; as they led[207] crusaders to fight battles at Jaffa, Askelon, and Jerusalem, so did he who now swayed the English sceptre, carry his troops over into the Netherlands to bear the brunt of the Landen fight, or recover the strongholds of Namur.

When William had been abroad before in the life-time of Mary, she ruled as Queen Consort, rendering a special regency needless; now that she slept in her grave, it was necessary that representatives appointed by the Crown should during the Royal absence govern the threefold realm.

Churchmen in ancient times had held the highest offices in the State, and had been the Prime Ministers of Kings. Whilst Richard I. was pining in captivity on his return from Palestine, Archbishop Hubert Walter acted as Chief Justiciary of the kingdom, and even in person laid siege to the castles of malcontents and reduced them to his master’s sway; and whilst the not less brave, but more prudent, Henry V. was winning laurels at Agincourt, Archbishop Chicheley acted as Prime Minister at home, and took his place at the head of the Council-Board.[246] After the Reformation, Churchmen, though of diminished influence, appeared in high political positions. Juxon held the staff of Lord Treasurer, and Williams kept the Great Seal; but after the blow struck at the Church by the Long Parliament, no ecclesiastic occupied any important State office until the reign of William III. Upon this new turn in the wheel, curiously enough, came the restoration of high civil authority to ecclesiastical hands. At the same moment, the Church appeared submissive to the State, and the State appeared in submission to the chief ruler of the Church. The former kind of submission was real, the latter only apparent.

The Archbishop did not fill the place of a Prime Minister like Chicheley, any more than he took the command of troops like Hubert Walter. It is difficult to say who in the month of May, 1695, was Prime Minister; as the Duke of Leeds, who had headed the late administration, just then, though still nominally President of the Council, lay prostrate in disgrace, and his name is omitted in the list of Lords Justices who held the Regency. The Whigs were recovering power, and with the seven members of that party who were commissioned to act in the Royal name, there appeared but one Tory. William III. himself always acted as Minister of Foreign Affairs whether he was at home or abroad, and during his absence from England on this occasion probably the management of domestic business principally rested with Somers, Keeper of the Great Seal, and Shrewsbury, Secretary of State. The Archbishop, as standing next to the Royal family, took precedence in the Commission, but the actual power which he exercised must not be measured by that circumstance.

On the 10th of October William returned, after having had the satisfaction of seeing a Marshal of France surrender to the allies, the Castle of Namur. The sound of bells from every steeple, the twinkling—for in those days it could hardly be a glare—of lights in every window, and street crowds rending the air with hurrahs, welcomed the victor as he passed through London to his favourite residence at Kensington. Speedily afterwards he made a Royal progress, and visited Newmarket, where, on Sunday, October the 20th, the Vice-Chancellor, accompanied by the principal members of the University of Cambridge, in all their sedate magnificence, waited on His Majesty, and delivered a congratulatory speech. The usual kissing of hands and assurances of favour wound up the ceremony.[247][209] He also visited Oxford, where he had been unpopular; but now, if we were to judge by the reception prepared, we should conclude the tide had turned; for Latin orations, musical concerts, and a splendid banquet were all arranged in honour of his presence. However, he would stay in the beautiful city only a few hours, excusing himself on the ground that he had seen the Colleges before. He had no admiration for Oxford, and Oxford had no admiration for him; and between the two no love was lost, when he drove off in his lumbering coach on the road to London.

The Royal injunctions relative to ecclesiastical reforms, published in February, 1695, were followed by other Royal injunctions relative to theological disputes in February, 1696. Just then, a money panic struck not only the commercial classes, but the whole community. The currency sank into such a state, that owing to the wear and tear of coin, and the ingenious arts of clippers, neither the gentleman who paid his guinea nor the peasant who received his shilling, knew exactly what the piece of gold or silver happened to be worth. The subject came up in sermons, and preachers deplored the low state of public morality. Fleetwood, preaching before the Lord Mayor of London in the month of December, deplored that “a soft pernicious tenderness slackened the care of magistrates, kept back the under officers, corrupted the juries, and withheld the evidence;” and one of the clergy connected with the Cathedral of York, when addressing some clippers who were to be hanged next day, dwelt on the insensibility of culprits of that class to the heinousness of their crime.[248] Exactly at the time when this monetary question had thrown everybody into a state of embarrassment,[210] a theological controversy added to the excitement of religious people.

To judge of the new Royal injunctions we must first understand the controversy, and to understand the controversy is no easy matter. To trace the dispute through all its windings would only perplex the reader—to enumerate the publications which appeared would be wearisome and profitless; therefore I shall content myself with indicating the different lines pursued by the principal controversialists, and the treatment which consequently some of them received.

It may be premised that the controversy indicates a new position of Christian thought, a new atmosphere of theological feeling, as compared with that which had obtained in Commonwealth times and after the Restoration. The question raised did not relate to predestination, to the nature of Christ’s death, the extent of its efficacy and application, but to the mode of the Divine existence. It showed a retreat back to inquiries akin to such as agitated the Nicene Age. Oxford and London witnessed a revival of conflicts similar to those of Constantinople and Alexandria. Battles about grace, election, and free-will had been fought out, and the warriors were exhausted: some had passed away, some were growing old. The human mind now ranged over other fields long neglected, seeking fresh victories over old errors. Theological discussion is determined in a great degree by circumstances, idiosyncracies, friendships, and associations; but the spirit of an age is also a mighty force, acting with, and acting through all other influences. And it is not a little remarkable, that as the revival of the study of philosophy in the Christian schools of Alexandria was followed by controversies respecting the Divine nature, so the revival of the study of a similar[211] philosophy at Cambridge was followed by a similar result. Whereas the logic, ethics, and politics of Aristotle have affinity with questions relating to the Divine government, the speculations of Plato connect themselves more with questions as to the Divine Being Himself. Accordingly, the Aristotelian logicians of the Middle Ages, the Reformation, and the Commonwealth, dwelt much upon predestination, justification, and the atonement; and the philosophical Divines of the Revolution, trained more in Platonic culture, devoted themselves to questions respecting the Trinity and the Person of Christ.

At the time of the Revolution, Unitarian principles in England were on the advance, both as to explicitness of statement and extent of currency. The preparations for this change have been indicated. It obtained in a decided form to no great degree, but its influence was felt beyond its definite boundaries. According to the Toleration Act, Antitrinitarians were as much precluded from publicly celebrating worship after the Revolution, as Presbyterians and others had been before; yet, by the close of the 17th century, it is said, Unitarian meeting-houses were erected.[249] Some Presbyterians, perhaps, rather of an Arian than of a Socinian type, at that period diverged from orthodox paths; but it is stated that on the whole these opinions “were more prevalent in the Church than among the Dissenters.”[250] The republication of Biddle’s Tracts, and the issue of new works, published anonymously, going far beyond the theological point Biddle had reached, promoted the[212] denial of our Lord’s Divinity. The series was zealously supported, if not prepared by the well-known Thomas Firman, who, though an Unitarian, remained a member of the Church of England.[251] The modern assailants of orthodoxy, catching the rationalistic spirit of the times, dwelt upon what they conceived to be the unreasonableness of the doctrine of the Trinity, and urged the absence in Scripture of the scholastic terms in which the doctrine is commonly defined. They charged the Fathers and the Schoolmen with corrupting Christianity; then directing their attention to the doctrine of the Redeemer’s Deity, they insisted much upon His proper humanity, upon His trustfulness, devotion, and obedience.

If, said the Unitarians, Christ be God, none can be greater than He, yet He says, “The Father is greater than I.” If Jesus Christ were truly God, they alleged, it would be blasphemy to call Him the sent of God; heedless of the allegation, on the other side, that if He were simply man, it would be blasphemy to ascribe to Him Divine names, attributes, and honours. Arguments were also adduced against the doctrine of the Personality and Divinity of the Holy Ghost. A violent attack also was made, in a distinct publication, on the character of Athanasius, with the object of damaging the theological belief which that great Father of the Church so zealously upheld.[252] Books of this description, vindicating opinions under a legal ban, excited the indignation both of Church and Parliament. A work, bearing on the heterodox side, written by a Divine of the Latitudinarian school, led to[213] his being deprived of the Rectorship of Lincoln College, Oxford,[253] and a vote was passed by the Commons dooming to the flames an attack on the doctrine of the Trinity.[254]

Dr. Wallis, the Savillian professor of Geometry, wrote a pamphlet[255] in defence of the doctrine of the Trinity, and employed some of the strangest expressions and illustrations with regard to the mystery that were ever conceived by any human being. “What is it,” he asks, “that is pretended to be impossible? ’Tis but this, that there be three somewhats, which are but one God, and these somewhats are called Persons.” To explain the Trinity in unity, he compares the Almighty to a cube, with its length, breadth, and height infinitely extended. The length, breadth, and height of the cube, he says, are equal, and they are the equal sides of one substance—a fair resemblance of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. This longum, latum, profundum, such are his words, is one cube of three dimensions, yet but one body; and this Father, Son, and Holy Ghost are three Persons, and yet one God. Vain attempts were made by the early Fathers to give definite conceptions of the mode of the Divine existence—the sun and its rays, a fountain and its streams, reason and speech, ointment and fragrance, being employed for the purpose; but Dr. Wallis attained to an originality as unenviable as it was startling; and were it[214] not for his known candour and piety, it might be supposed he intended to turn the orthodox doctrine into ridicule.

Dr. Sherlock, Dean of St. Paul’s and Master of the Temple, now in the black books of High Churchmen, undertook to meet the new attacks upon the Trinity; and, as so much was made of the assumed unreasonableness of that doctrine, he commenced his vindication of it with an elaborate argument to prove that it involves no contradiction whatever. He used the shield of reason to resist the darts of reason. His notion was, that self-consciousness constitutes the numerical unity of a Spiritual Being,—that the unity of a mind or spirit reaches as far as its self-consciousness,—that, in the three Persons of the Trinity, there is what may be called a mutual self-consciousness, a self-consciousness common to the three; and that therefore these three Persons are essentially and numerically one. A moral union in knowledge, will, and love, he says, is the only union of created spirits; but there is an essential union between Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, through the existence of a mutual consciousness. This notion contains, according to Sherlock, the true faith of a Trinity in unity. It is orthodoxy rationalized. It does not confound the Persons; it does not divide the substance.[256] After working out an abstruse argument to this effect, and after endeavouring to show there is authority in some of the Fathers for his theory, he concludes by taking up, seriatim, certain objections which had been urged in recent Unitarian writings.

A young man, a Master of Arts, just turned 27, stood up, on the 28th of October, 1695, in the pulpit of St. Mary’s, Oxford, before a large audience of Dons and[215] Gownsmen, to preach from the text—now given up on all hands as an interpolation—“There are three that bear record in heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost; and these three are one.” The preacher was Joseph Bingham, a scholar of surprising erudition, destined to throw a world of light upon the antiquities of the Christian Church; in the sermon, and preface to it when published, he distinguished between the patristic and the scholastic doctrines of the Trinity, maintaining that Luther, in his theology on that point, followed in the wake of the Fathers, whilst Calvin trod in the steps of the Schoolmen. The Lutheran, the Patristic, and the Scripture doctrine, in Bingham’s estimation, amounted to this—that there are three individual substances in the Godhead, really and numerically distinct from each other, though at the same time they are one in another sense; for they are not of a different nature; they are not divided like men and angels; they are not three parts of one whole; nor are they three Beings, who have Divine natures independently, every one from himself; nor are they three opposite principles, or three providences, clashing with one another. No; they constitute “one harmonious providence, and one undivided principle of all other things.”[257] Sherlock, a citizen of the world, catching the spirit of the age, appealed to reason; Bingham, a recluse, scarcely touched by habits of thought outside his University, appealed to tradition. This piece of hard, dry learning, without the slightest tincture of pathos, or a single practical remark from beginning to end, must have proved a repulsive lesson even to an Oxford audience. Its general drift, running in the same direction as Sherlock’s teaching, though it[216] included no theory of mutual consciousness, alarmed the authorities; they went home from St. Mary’s in great agitation, muttering against the young preacher charges of Tritheism, Arianism, and other heresies. Bingham was simply a student who had missed his way in theological speculation; but Sherlock was personally disliked by Jacobites, who were irritated by his political apostacy, and by the adherents of William, who envied him his church preferments. No hornet’s nest could be worse than the attacks which this unlucky controversialist aroused. Many who, under other circumstances, would have let heterodoxy alone, could not tolerate it when coming from such a quarter; and the most unseemly reflections on the man’s character were mixed up with arguments against his doctrines.[258]

South plunged into the fray, and used his sledgehammer with unmerciful violence. Not unlearned, not unversed in logic, South was more of a rhetorician than a philosopher, more of a wit than a Divine. After denouncing Sherlock’s explication as wholly inconsistent with the mysteriousness of the subject, and representing his exceptions to the use of certain words in relation to it as false, groundless, and impertinent, he exposed, with tremendous ridicule, the theory of mutual consciousness. “For self-consciousness, according to him,” says South, “is the constituent principle, or formal reason, of personality. So that self-consciousness properly constitutes or makes a person, and so many self-consciousnesses make so many distinct persons. But mutual consciousness, so far as it extends, makes a unity not of persons (for personality as such imports distinction and something[217] personally incommunicable), but an unity of nature in persons. So that after self-consciousness has made several distinct persons, in comes mutual consciousness and sets them all at one again, and gives them all but one and the same nature, which they are to take amongst themselves as well as they can. And this is a true and strict account of this author’s new hypothesis; and such, as I suppose, he will not except against, because justly I am sure he cannot; howsoever, I may have expressed the novel whimsey something for the reader’s diversion.”[259] How monstrous to think of diverting people, when professedly engaged in studying the awful secrets of the Divine Essence!

South maintained that Father, Son, and Holy Ghost are not distinct infinite minds or spirits—that to say they are so, is to contradict Councils, Fathers, Schoolmen, and later Divines; that the book he assailed contains philosophical paradoxies and grammatical mistakes; and that the author was insolent, scornful, and proud beyond all parallel. To quote a full sample of South’s personal abuse would be to cover pages.[260]

No doubt there is much force in some of his arguments, and he completely demolished the theory of mutual consciousness. But he was much stronger as a destructive than as an architect. When he attempted to define a positive notion of the Trinity, he failed, as all did who went before him, as all have who followed after him. Nor could he escape the infection of a most infelicitous, if not a decidedly irreverent,[218] habit of illustrating theological mysteries. Wallis had written of three somewhats, and of a Divine cube of infinite dimensions. Sherlock had propounded a theory of Divine mutual-consciousness; and now South came forward with the idea, that the distinctions in the Godhead are modes, habitudes, and affections of the Divine substance—they are postures—such in spiritual and immaterial beings, as posture is to the human body.[261] Passing over South’s coarse scurrility, I cannot conceive how any inquirer after truth can be helped on his way by this clever and brilliant companion, who never misses an opportunity of cracking a joke in his reader’s ear. Even when South’s reasoning is forcible, he is ever interrupting it with flashes of wit; and throughout one feels, what is fatal to all religious instruction, that the polemic is more anxious about victory than truth. No doubt his attack on Sherlock was deemed by contemporaries a decided success; he drove his antagonist from the field and spoiled him of his armour. But when he charged him with Tritheism, he charged him with what Sherlock utterly denied. That Sherlock’s theory is Tritheistic was a mere inference, and what may seem a logical deduction to others did not appear so to himself. In like manner Sabellianism, in the eyes of some, lurked under the folds of South’s argument, though he indignantly repelled the idea. The fact is, no man can attempt a logical explanation[219] of the Godhead without being in danger of falling into Tritheism on the one side, or Sabellianism on the other. In such controversies we notice the frequent use of some word not in Scripture, but considered to be an equivalent for what is Scripture—a term conceived to be a concentration of diffused truth—the quintessence of a doctrine previously in a state of solution. Unfortunately such words are differently understood by different parties. One person refuses to take them in the sense affixed to them by another, and will employ a meaning of his own. The same proposition thus becomes to two different minds entirely different things, and the utmost confusion is the consequence. Theories to explain facts are confounded with the facts themselves, and a man who only denies a particular theory, is charged with denying the fact to which the theory relates. Hence, whilst Sherlock and South were really contending for the doctrine of the Trinity, each regarded the other as giving it up. It should be added that in the end, Sherlock’s statements were more cautious than at the beginning; for he came to admit that the phrases—three minds, three spirits, three substances—which he had so freely used, needed great care for their proper employment, and were liable to be taken in a heretical sense; that after all, Father, Son, and Spirit, are really of one and the same substance.[262] Sherlock and South did but follow up divergent tendencies of thought and action before the Council of Nicæa—tendencies which that Council sought to check and harmonize. Sherlock followed in the wake of Tertullian, Novatian, Hippolytus, and Origen, whose inquiries mainly pointed to distinctions in the Godhead.[220] South trod in the footsteps of Justin Martyr, Athenagoras, Irenæus, and Clement of Alexandria, who leaned towards Monarchianism, and were jealous of any dishonour done to the Divine Unity.

In this controversy, which divided two men by a distance, in the judgment of some thinkers, infinitesimally small, homage was nevertheless done to the essential importance of truth. The controversy, however, betrayed the utter absence of disposition on the part of each to learn one jot of wisdom from the other. It was literally a polemical affair; a battle, each seeing in his opposite an enemy—in fact the old story of disputes between Church and Church, sect and sect, conformist and nonconformist—war to the knife by mistaken foes, instead of mutual help by friends in council.

Of course Unitarians, as they stood by, watched the conflict with eager curiosity, striving to turn it to their own account. In the view of those who had advanced beyond John Biddle, the doctrine of the Trinity and the use of the Word were repugnant; and they traced what they deemed an innovation to the early philosophical schools that had so powerfully influenced the after-history of theological thought. They labelled Cudworth’s theory as the Platonic; Sherlock’s as the Cartesian; South’s as the Aristotelian. Moreover, they connected the scheme of Sherlock with the philosophy of Realism, and the scheme of South with that of Nominalism. With regard to speculations which had been woven around the teaching of Holy Scripture, there was some ground for the nomenclature; but it really forms another instance of the confusion of thought produced when critics identify metaphysical theories with simple conclusions drawn from Scripture, as expressed in the grand old words, “The Father is God, the Son is God, and the Holy[221] Ghost is God, and yet there are not three Gods, but one God.”

Howe took part in the bewildering dispute, and has been supposed by some to have advocated Sherlock’s side. But it seems to me that what I have been saying accords with his views, and that he counted such an opinion as that expressed by Sherlock only as a theory for obviating objection to a fact, whilst another theory might be held in perfect consistency with a sincere faith in the truth to which both theories apply. In his Calm and Sober Inquiry Concerning the Possibility of a Trinity in the Godhead, the utmost he asserts is, that such a mode of triune existence as Sherlock attributes to the Divine Being is possible, and to his mind the most reasonable; but he did not think another hypothesis of a different kind altogether indefensible. He adopted what is called the personal theory; but he did not deem a modal theory, like South’s, either absurd or heterodox.[263] Evidently he considered that different hypotheses are at hand not fully to elucidate the mode of the Divine existence, but to obviate objections, by showing that a threefold distinction in that existence can be imagined, so as not to involve any contradiction whatever.[264]

Amidst this war of words, in which reason and tradition had a share, secular authority interfered. On the 3rd of January, 1694, the Lords spiritual and temporal ordered their Majesties’ Attorney-General to prosecute the author and printer of an infamous and scandalous libel, entitled, A Brief but Clear Confutation of the Doctrine of the Trinity.[265] This was a State condemnation of Unitarianism, and the same year a tract[222] printed by the Unitarian Society was seized by authority, and the writer apprehended. On the 25th of November, 1695, the Vice-Chancellor and Heads of Houses at Oxford decreed it to be false, impious, and heretical, contrary to the doctrine of the Catholic Church, and especially the Church of England, to say that there are three infinite, distinct minds and substances in the Trinity, or that the three Persons are three distinct, infinite minds or spirits. This was a condemnation by the University of the doctrines enunciated by Sherlock and supported by Bingham. The latter, in consequence of the storm raised by his sermon, resigned his fellowship, and withdrew from the University; but others, who thought with him, asserted, that what the Heads of Oxford had condemned as heretical, really expressed the Catholic faith; that the decree virtually accused of error the Nicene Creed and the Church of England, and exposed both to the scorn and triumph of the Socinians. Sherlock declared “that he would undertake, any day in the year, to procure a meeting of twice as many wise and learned men to censure their decree.”[266] Out of this state of things also arose the new Royal injunctions I have noticed. They prohibited every preacher from delivering any other doctrine concerning the Blessed Trinity than what is contained in the Holy Scriptures, and is agreeable to the three Creeds and the Thirty-nine Articles; and they also strictly charged the right reverend fathers to make use of their authority for repressing the publication of books against that doctrine.[267]

Charles II. had in 1662 commanded the Clergy to avoid[223] “the deep points of election and reprobation, together with the incomprehensible manner of the concurrence of God’s free grace and man’s free will.”[268] He thus claimed a high spiritual authority over the Ministers of religion, but it was by removing certain topics from within the range of discussion. In the instance just given, William III. enjoined the positive inculcation of a particular doctrine, and no other. He did not on his own authority define the doctrine, but only referred to the doctrine authorized in the Creeds and Articles recognized by the Established Church; indeed, he did not go beyond the terms employed in the sixteenth clause of the Toleration Act;[269] yet it must be confessed that altogether he appears as a still more definite theological censor than Charles II. And it is worth notice that in this respect he not only assumed a supreme Headship over the Established Church, but he also claimed to rule the Free Churches of England, for he commanded that no “preacher whatsoever, in his sermon or lecture, should presume to deliver any other doctrine concerning the Trinity than that defined in the Creeds and Articles.” When we weigh the words employed, we are astonished to find the constitutional King of the Revolution—the Prince who came to deliver the consciences of Englishmen from the despotism of James and the tyranny of Rome—binding upon the Ministers of religion one precise and rigid form of expression as to the most profound of all theological mysteries. What makes this fact still more curious, and the conduct in question still more unreasonable, is that the most learned[224] men in the Church at that very crisis were unable to decide amongst themselves what was the doctrine of her formularies, Sherlock declaring it to be one thing and South another. The truth is, that William lent himself to a device of the well-meaning Archbishop for maintaining the orthodoxy of all religionists in the realm, without meaning to claim any power over the religion of his subjects; for to any usurpation of that sort he was, from temperament, education, and principle, utterly averse. The Whig Archbishop, whose intellectual acuteness did not equal his common sense, who could detect no political or philosophical heresy in the course which he recommended, simply sought to accomplish what he considered as a laudable end by a method which he thought most effectual. He sought to put down error, and to promote peace, and in doing it, hastily snatched at the rusty halberd of authority over conscience, which the Revolution had hung up as a relic of the past. Nothing could be more awkward and inconsistent than such a weapon, placed by a Latitudinarian Prelate in the hands of a Sovereign adored as the incarnation of civil and religious liberty.

Although it is true of ancient times and Oriental states, that “where the word of a King is, there is power,” the King’s word amongst Englishmen at the time we speak of, especially upon religious subjects, carried with it no weight whatever; and although the controversy raging when the injunctions were devised soon burnt out, the heresies assailed lingered on, and in 1698 the Commons appealed to His Majesty for a proclamation for suppressing pernicious books containing doctrines opposed to the Holy Trinity, and other fundamental articles of the Christian faith.[270] The King, not choosing to do this, gave his[225] faithful Commons a short answer, promising attention to the subject, and wishing that provision could be made for the purpose desired; but, however, a proclamation was immediately issued for preventing and punishing immorality and profaneness. Not long before this circumstance, a youth of only eighteen years of age was executed in the city of Edinburgh for blasphemy—a victim to the zeal of the Presbyterian Clergy;[271] and, about the same time, the orthodox Dissenters of England, in an address of theirs, most inconsistently urged His Majesty to deprive Unitarians of the liberty of the press.[272]

An Act of Parliament was passed in 1698 declaring that any one educated in the Christian religion, who should, by writing, printing, or teaching, deny the doctrine of the Trinity, the truth of Christianity, or the authority of the Scriptures, must, for the first offence, be disqualified for holding any office; and, for the second, be incapacitated for bringing an action, possessing lands, becoming a guardian, acting as an executor, or receiving a legacy; moreover, such a person might be subjected to imprisonment for three years. Parliament thus united its authority with that of the Sovereign in the support of orthodox opinions, without perceiving the futility of such methods of defending the Gospel. And it is not a little surprising that such a man as Calamy, both in his Diary and in his Historical Addition to Baxter’s Life and Times, passes by[226] the objectionable enactment; indeed, so entirely unaffected by its injustice does he appear to have been, that, in the latter work, he tells us, in the year 1698, Parliament “did not meddle with matters of religion, though they had a committee for religion as usually.”[273] Nothing could more decidedly prove how much even the advocates of religious liberty had yet to learn touching that very object which they were supposed to understand, and were sincerely anxious to promote. It is a pleasure to be able to add, that neither at the time, nor afterwards, so far as can be ascertained, did this Act take any effect; and, apparently, it remained a dead letter until its repeal in the year 1813.[274]

James, after his defeat on the banks of the Boyne, did not relinquish the hope of recovering his crown. In 1692, amidst preparations for a descent on the shores of England, he issued a Declaration, in which he promised to maintain the rights of the Established Church; but as for his past conduct, he had nothing to retract, nothing to deplore; and as to his future course, he held out no hopes that he would rule otherwise than he had been doing. Not only were all who should resist his new attempt to expect his vengeance, but whole classes of persons, amounting to some thousands, who had incurred his displeasure, were threatened with punishment. High in the list of culprits excluded from mercy, stood Tillotson and Burnet. Such a manifesto, of course, did the Exile’s cause more harm than good; and, therefore, in 1693, he reluctantly published another, pitched in a different key, promising an amnesty to those who would submit, and to all his subjects the restoration of Parliaments, the preservation of the Test Act, and a limitation of the dispensing power. These concessions were as tardy and ineffectual as they were insincere. “After all,” said one who was in the confidence of James, “the object of this Declaration is only to get us back to England. We shall fight the battle of the[228] Catholics with much greater advantage at Whitehall than at St. Germains.”[275]

Within the gloomy courts and chambers of the old Palace of St. Germains—which in melancholy stateliness furnishes such a contrast to the cheerful prospect from its windows—James, with his Court of blinded partizans and his crowds of Jesuit priests, was aiming to convert certain English Protestants who had followed his unhappy fortunes, and was planning his return to the land of his fathers, with the hope of reconciling an heretical realm to the true Catholic Church. Schemes of insurrection were contrived before the death of Queen Mary; then came schemes for assassination. Previous to that period, the death of William had offered James no augmentation of hopes; afterwards, to clear off the reigning Prince from the stage seemed an advantageous step. That James originated any plot for the murder of his son-in-law cannot be proved, and ought not to be believed; nor can it be shown that he expressly sanctioned anything of the kind; but it can scarcely be questioned that he knew and connived at what was going on. Insurrection and assassination plots together opened up vistas into which the refugees at St. Germains wistfully peered, as they laid their heads together, and talked over the business in retired corners of the shaded alleys, or in secret nooks of the rambling palace galleries. A hundred priests, it is said, were to attend the anointed King in his expedition, carrying precious relics as pledges of victory—including the image of St. Victor, of which the miraculous virtue upon infidels and heretics had been proved, when it was sent as a present to France from the Queen of Poland. So confident of success were the plotters, that they talked[229] of taking debentures on English estates, soon to fall into their hands; also pieces of preferment in Church and State were allotted to Royal favourites, and Jesuits rejoiced in the idea of setting up a branch of their order within the spacious precincts of Chelsea College.[276] These Papists abroad found sympathizing friends at home amongst the Nonjurors, some of whom were at the time charged with preaching from texts suggestive of treason and rebellion.

A correspondence between the Court of St. Germains and the English Jacobites, ranging from October, 1693, to August, 1694, brought to light by Macpherson, shows what was going on at that period. “It is His Majesty’s desire,” said an agent of the Exile, “that the Bishops and non-swearing Clergy send one or two of their number, especially one of the Bishops, to him, with all convenient speed, instructed by the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury [Sancroft], and the rest of the most considerable of them, to inform His Majesty of the readiness they were in last year to have joined him at his landing, and to have preached loyalty and due obedience to the people; and to bring assurances, under the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury’s hand, that they are in the same disposition still, and will join His Majesty whenever he shall land. For the same end, to encourage the people to come into their duty, and because that there may be some danger in inserting of names, ways of writing in white must be found out, and the paper sent by the boat, and not be brought by any of the persons who are sent. This is of the last importance for the King’s service, and therefore, tho’ difficult in appearance, must be complied with; and it’s[230] hoped that there may be no danger, considering how safe all things come. The King is sorry he cannot put his own hand to this. The King’s affairs depend upon the punctual doing of what he desires, as you shall know in due time. The person sent may come safe by Holland. He must likewise bring as good an account as he can, of the number and names of the non-swearing Clergy; and likewise, how the non-swearing Clergy stand affected, and what the King may expect from them, with the best account he can of the state of the King’s affairs in general.”[277] “You are,” it is said in another letter, “to let the Bishop of Norwich [Lloyd] know from us, how much we are pleased with his zeal and faithfulness in our service, to assure him of our favour, and to return him our most hearty thanks.”[278]

Assurances were sent from this side the water to the plotters abroad, full of the spirit of revolt. “His Majesty [James] has likewise for him, six Protestant Bishops and 600 Ministers who have not taken the oaths, and almost all the Ministers of the Church of England who have taken the oaths; that is to say, as one of their Bishops writes to me, four parts in five are ready to join the King, or to preach in their churches to stir up the people in his favour,—500 of them having been ready to join him last year, in order to convince Protestants that their religion was in no danger, and in order to preach their sentiments to the inhabitants of the country, thro’ which the King should pass.”[279]

Another of these conspirators assured his accomplices abroad, that he would unite with his regiment a company of Clergymen of the Church of England, who were determined[231] to serve as volunteers in this expedition; and he hoped also, by a stratagem, to seize the Prince and Princess of Orange, and to bring them as prisoners to His Majesty.[280]

Captain Crisp declared that the Bishop of Exeter was entirely in the King’s interest; and that five parts of seven in the county of Cornwall were on the same side.[281]

Sir Theophilus Oglethorpe, Sir John Fenwick, Major-General Sackville, and several other persons of quality and distinction, maintained that the persons mentioned, having made an exact inquiry through all the counties of England, found that the mind of the nation in general was entirely alienated from the Prince of Orange, by losses suffered at sea, by heavy taxes, by the interruption of commerce within and without the kingdom, and by the general disorder occasioned through a change in the circulation of the coin. It is distinctly affirmed, “that four parts out of five of the Clergy are disposed to declare for the King;”[282] and His Majesty was earnestly besought to think of some way to reconcile the Church party, and those of the Dissenters who were in Parliament, as it would contribute much to His Majesty’s service.[283] This was before the death of Mary, afterwards intrigues did not end in foolish, harmless, and untruthful correspondence. A conspiracy was formed to attack William when driving over a piece of bad road between Brentford and Turnham Green, but the conspirators were betrayed, and the bubble of vengeance immediately burst. Charnock, Keyes, and King, Roman Catholic Jacobites—who, with others of the same faith in religion and politics, had been[232] deeply involved in this affair—suffered for their offence, the last-named declaring at the foot of the gallows, that what he had done was to be attributed to his own sinful passions, not to any Roman Catholic doctrine on the subject of tyrannicide. Two others of higher grade—Sir John Friend, belonging to the Jacobite nonjuring class, and Sir William Parkyns, a Jacobite, but a juror too—on the 3rd of April, also suffered death for their share in the conspiracy. The fate of these knights created immense excitement, chiefly on account of a circumstance which brings their execution before us. Jeremy Collier has been already mentioned as a distinguished nonjuring Divine, and a great sensation was produced in the vast crowds round the fatal tree by the sight of this clergyman—in company with two others less known, named Cook and Snatt—performing some peculiar religious rites at the last moment of the culprits’ lives. The three Divines were observed in the cart, not only praying with the unhappy men, but laying hands upon them as they knelt down—Collier solemnly pronouncing over them the form of absolution, prescribed in the Visitation of the Sick. A paper, professedly written by Friend, and delivered to the Sheriff, contained a prayer for King James’ restoration, and stated that the writer was a member of the Church, “though,” he adds, “a most unworthy and unprofitable part of it (meaning the nonjuring part), which suffers so much at present for a strict adherence to the laws and Christian principles.

People were astonished at the strange absolution performed. Multitudes more who heard of it shared in the wonder, and the circulation of the paper increased the[233] excitement. To all but the most obstinate, the administering of absolution under the circumstances seemed like an act of sympathy with civil treason, and a gross perversion of Church formularies. London presently rose in a state of high commotion. The Tyburn affair was in everybody’s mouth, and broadsides and pamphlets bearing upon it were in everybody’s hands. The public authorities interfered, and at once seized Cook and Snatt. Collier eluded their search; and in some garret, cellar, or other out-of-the-way place, wrote a defence of what he had done. He had, he said, been sent for to Newgate; Sir William Parkyns had begged that the absolution of the Church might be pronounced over him in his last moments. Collier had been refused admittance to the prisoner in his cell on the day of execution, and so he went to Tyburn to pronounce absolution there. He used a form in the Prayer-Book; and as to the imposition of hands, complained of as an innovation, he concluded that it was a very ancient, and, at least, a very innocent ceremony.[285]

The Bishops, considering that a scandal had been brought upon the Church, published a declaration condemnatory both of the culprits’ papers and the Clergymen’s conduct. The papers they charged with making a favourable mention of so foul a thing as the assassination of His Majesty; and the Clergymen’s conduct they denounced as insolent, and without precedent either in the English Church or in any other.[286] All the Bishops in London signed this document, including Crew of Durham, and Sprat of Rochester, who, from their past career, were still suspected of Jacobite tendencies. Collier, whose boldness equalled his learning, returned[234] to the charge, and from the depths of his obscurity re-proclaimed the doctrine of the imposition of hands as scriptural, and consonant with patristic teaching. He also pleaded on its behalf, in such a case as the one in question, no less a precedent than the conduct of Bishop Sanderson, oddly enough putting the Prelate in the place of the traitor under the fatal beam. “This eminent casuist,” says Collier, “about a day before his death, desired his chaplain, Mr. Pullin, to give him absolution; and at his performing that office, he pulled off his cap that Mr. Pullin might lay his hand upon his bare head.”[287]

Collier was the leading spirit in this transaction, and he willingly accepted the chief responsibility; yet he continued to hide himself, and finally escaped the constable’s clutches. His two companions, after a true Bill had been found against them by the Grand Jury of Middlesex, were set at liberty; and it is a question whether they could have been legally convicted of the commission of any crime against the law of the land—for absolution at the point of death, by the imposition of hands, whatever might be thought of it in a religious point of view, could not be regarded as a political offence; and absolving such men, although it looked like sympathy in their enterprise, could scarcely bring the absolvers within the compass of the statute of treason.

Another conspirator’s name gathered round it ecclesiastical complications. Sir John Fenwick, an active person amongst the numerous plotters against William, fell into the hands of justice in the month of June. A letter, from the Duke of Shrewsbury to William III., indicates what thoughts were entertained of this[235] conspirator, and of the views of certain people in France at that juncture.

“I am not acquainted with the particulars my Lord Steward has sent your Majesty from Sir John Fenwick; he is generally reputed a fearful man, and though now he may not offer to say all, yet beginning to treat is no contradiction to that character. I am confident he knows what, if he will discover, may be much more valuable than his life. If he were well managed, possibly he might lay open a scene that would facilitate the business the next winter, which, without some such miracle, I doubt will be difficult enough.

“An acquaintance of mine saw a fresh letter to my Lady Walgrave, from my Lord Galmoy, at St. Germains, who I think is her husband, where he says he has never been credulous in the hopes of King James’ coming; but that now he is well assured, it will be attempted the end of this year, and with good appearance of success. The same person saw another letter from another hand, they would not say from whom, but from one more likely to know than the former, and spoke in the same language, but with more assurance.”[288]

Fenwick, after his capture, made revelations, as Shrewsbury supposed him not unlikely to do; but, to the great surprise and indignation of the latter, he learnt before long, that the cunning conspirator had woven a story, by which he had contrived to bring the Duke himself into suspicion. The fact is, that for a long time after the Revolution, things were said and done—whispered, insinuated, listened to, and winked at—which bore an ugly look in the eyes of honest people; and it is wonderful in[236] what a perilous position the frail, eagle-faced champion of constitutional rights and of European Protestantism stood for years after he had accepted the British crown. True, some men were accused without good reason, but to many cases the adage applied, “Where there is smoke there is fire.”[289]

Charles, Earl of Middleton, took an active part in Jacobite intrigues, and he is worth notice here as an example of Jacobitism in alliance with Protestantism, or rather in alliance with views anti-Catholic. He married into a Popish family, but did not adopt their religion. Indeed, his principles on that score were very loose, although he knew how, with a clever stroke, to repel the onsets of Jesuitical sophistry. A priest one day tried to prove to him the doctrine of Transubstantiation. “Your Lordship,” said he, “believes in the Trinity;” Middleton stopped him by asking, “Who told you so?” The priest felt amazed, upon which the Peer added, it was the priest’s business to prove that his own belief was true, and not to question another man about his.[290] In one of the Earl’s furtive missions to England upon the business of the exiled Prince, he had met with Shrewsbury, and had evidently tried, in an underhand way, to work his mind into a Jacobite direction. Fenwick had got hold of this, and had made the most of it against the Duke, who now occupied the office of Secretary of State,[291] and had, during William’s absence, discharged, along with the Archbishop of Canterbury and others, the high function of a Lord Justice. The letter which Shrewsbury wrote[237] to William is worth insertion, as illustrative of what went on behind the scenes, of the scrapes men fell into, of the way they got out of them, of the generosity and forgiving spirit of the King, and of the rickety condition of English Protestantism, if it had rested upon nothing better than the character of politicians.

Fenwick disclosed divisions amongst the Nonjurors, classifying them as compounders and non-compounders—the[239] compounders being anxious for some security from King James, that English religion and liberty would be preserved in case of his restoration; and the non-compounders being prepared to cast themselves entirely upon his honour and generosity. Lloyd, the deprived Bishop of Norwich, adopted the latter view, and would hear of no terms in a matter of Divine right.[293]

The Bill for Fenwick’s attainder created much discussion in the House of Commons. The discussion took a theological turn upon the point of deficiency of evidence, the testimony of one witness not being backed by the testimony of a second. Much was said by the opponents of the attainder, respecting the eternal law of God and man, and of the Holy Scriptures requiring more witnesses than one to convict a person of a capital crime. “No man,” it was repeated, “shall be condemned to die by the mouth of one witness, but by two or three witnesses he shall suffer.” It was replied, that not the Levitical law, but the law of England, should be guide in such a case; then, some one rejoined, that he and those who thought with him, did not wish to base their argument simply on Scripture, but upon the fact that this law of Moses having been confirmed by our Saviour in the New Testament, it ought to be brought into connection with the law of the land.[294] In spite of attempts made to save Sir John, the Bill passed both Houses. Robert Nelson interceded with Tenison to plead with the King. “My very good friend,” returned the Primate, “give me leave to tell you, that you know not what spirit this man, nor I am of; I wish for his, nor no man’s blood, but how can I do my duty to God and my King, should I declare a man[240] innocent; for my not being of the side of the Bill will convince the world that I think him so, when I am satisfied in my conscience, not only from Goodman’s evidence, but all the convincing testimonies in the world, that he is guilty. Laws ex post facto may indeed carry the face of rigour with them, but if ever a law was necessary this is.”[295]

An amusing circumstance occurred during the debate. Dr. John Williams, Hector of St. Mildred’s, Poultry, accepted the Bishopric of Chichester, and was consecrated at Lambeth, by Tenison and others, the day before the third reading of the Bill. Rushing into the Bishops’ chamber to robe himself, he was accosted by the Archbishop, “Brother, brother! you’ll overheat yourself; what’s the reason of all this pother?” “Nothing, may it please your Grace,” said he; “but I was fearful lest the Bill against Sir John Fenwick should be read before I could take my place in the House.” “Fye, my Lord,” said Tenison; “you might have spared yourself that labour, since you had not an opportunity of hearing the merits of the cause at the first and second reading; but since, as I perceive, you are come to give your vote, pray, brother, come in along with me, that you may hear it once read, before you do it.”[296]

After the Bill had passed, efforts were continued on the culprit’s behalf. His Lady petitioned the House of Lords and the House of Commons; also she threw herself as a suppliant at William’s feet in vain. Fenwick delivered a paper, supposed to have been drawn up by White, the deprived Bishop of Peterborough, in which he did not deny the facts sworn, but only complained of his attainder as unjust; at the same time declaring his loyalty to[241] King James and to the Prince of Wales, but denouncing, with horror, the idea of assassinating William.[297]

Fenwick suffered upon Tower Hill the 20th of January, 1697. That wintry morning, cold with storms, White appeared with him on the scaffold, not to pronounce absolution or lay on hands, but simply to pray with a dying man.[298] Commending the King to the Divine protection—meaning James, but not using his name—Fenwick, as he laid his neck on the block, cried, “Lord Jesus, receive my soul.” His corpse was buried by torch-light in St. Martin’s Church.

Others were hanged for treasonable practices, including Cranburne, who professed himself a member of the Church of England; and Rookwood and Lowick, Roman Catholics, whose Jesu Maria and Paternosters are particularly mentioned by the Protestant narrator of their last end.[299]

The peace of Ryswick, which put an end to the war between William and Louis, and detached the latter from the cause of James, dispelled for awhile the visions which had tantalized and disappointed the nonjuring party; for the treaty, sanctioned by France, Spain, and the United Provinces, recognized the constitution of England, and William as a constitutional King. Some Clergymen, wearied by the bootless resistance of eight long years, now came to terms, and swore allegiance to the reigning Sovereign, adopting at last the principle which they had denounced, that a settled Government, though illegitimate in its origin, is binding in its authority.

Immense joy arose on this occasion; it prolonged itself during the month of November. The anniversary of the landing at Torbay of course set in motion peals of bells, lighted up candles in windows, kindled bonfires in market-places, and evoked shouts of glee from assembled multitudes. The 14th of November, the day of Williams return and landing at Margate, became an additional season of joy. On the 16th, which turned out a bright morning, he entered his capital in state, attended by the Lord Mayor and Aldermen, with a measure of the splendour which on past occasions brightened the City’s dark and narrow streets; although some of the spectators of the sight noticed a decline[243] in the splendour of the pageantry.[300] The triumph of the day was complete when the University of Oxford, to the unutterable chagrin of the Nonjurors, struck its colours, and in an adulatory address did homage to the hero. This tide of joy flowed into the following month. The 2nd of December was held as a day of thanksgiving for the peace. The King and Court attended Divine service in the Chapel at Whitehall, where Burnet preached, or, as one who heard him says, “made a florid panegyric,”[301] founded on the words, “Happy are thy men, and happy are these thy servants, which stand continually before thee, and hear thy wisdom. Blessed be the Lord thy God which delighted in thee to set thee on his throne, to be king for the Lord thy God: because thy God loved Israel to establish them for ever, therefore made he thee king over them, to do judgment and justice.” The same day St. Paul’s Cathedral was opened for Divine service, and William would have been there, instead of being in his own Chapel, but for fear lest the multitude, thronging the streets, should render his approach almost impracticable. The Corporation of London appeared in their civic pomp; Compton ascended his throne, just enriched by the carvings of Grinling Gibbons; and he afterwards preached from the appropriate text, “I was glad when they said unto me, Let us go up into the house of the Lord.”[302]

A new Parliament, of a decidedly High-Church stamp, assembled on the 9th of December, amidst an atmosphere of hypocrisy and intrigue rarely equalled. A sermon preached before the Commons by the Rector of Sutton,[244] in Surrey, upon government originating with the people, and good government alone being the ordinance of God, gave vast offence to the Tories, and occasioned the passing of a curious resolution, that no one should preach before the House unless he was a Dean or a D.D. A Committee of the Lower House formally complained of Dissenters being made Justices of the Peace; whereas it turned out on inquiry that not two of their number were placed on the roll, besides such as had become occasional Conformists. Some zealots went so far as to propose, that an address should be presented to the King, to remove Burnet from the office of Preceptor to the young Duke of Gloucester; but as this was too absurd a proposal to find much support, it had to be withdrawn.[303] Under pretence of patriotism and economy, a strong opposition party carried one measure for a reduction of the army, which compelled William to part with his Dutch Guards, the sorest sacrifice he ever made; and another for the recovery of Irish estates, bestowed by the Monarch on his supporters, a proceeding which ended in the aggrandizement of its inventors.

The peace of Ryswick had brought “a great swarm of priests”[304] to England, who held up their heads with so much insolence, that some foolish Protestants and some cunning politicians absurdly declared, the articles of peace favoured Popery, and the King was a Papist in disguise. Soon the new Parliament, stirred by a gust of[245] wind which threatened a “No Popery” tempest, set to work upon a Bill obliging every Popish minor succeeding to an estate, immediately to take the oath of allegiance, and, as soon as he attained his majority, to submit to the Test Act,—otherwise his property would devolve on the Protestant next of kin. The Bill also banished Popish priests, and adjudged them to perpetual imprisonment in case they dared to return; the reward for conviction being £100. The Bill is said to have been partly a trick contrived by the Tories to perplex the Whigs, who prided themselves on being the champions of Toleration; but when they saw the Whigs supporting it, they indicated a desire to drop the measure. With a view of provoking defeat, they introduced additionally severe and unreasonable clauses; yet, contrary to their expectations, the Lords, under the influence of an anti-Popish fever, accepted what came up to them, and the Bill, unamended, not only passed the Upper House, but received the Royal assent. Burnet supported it, and endeavoured to defend himself against the charge of injustice and inconsistency. “I had always thought,” he says, “that if a Government found any sect in religion incompatible with its quiet and safety, it might, and sometimes ought, to send away all of that sect, with as little hardship as possible. It is certain that as all Papists must, at all times, be ill subjects to a Protestant prince, so this is much more to be apprehended when there is a pretended Popish heir in the case.” The new law happily proved a nullity. Some of the terms were so vague, and the provisions were so oppressive, that the “Act was not followed, nor executed in any sort.”[305]

Complaints of growing immorality had been repeatedly made; proclamations to check it had been often issued; and on the 28th of November, Parliament requested the publication of a new one. Upon this, the Archbishop of Canterbury addressed a pastoral letter to each of his Suffragans, requesting them to stir up the Clergy to a more zealous discharge of their duties. The good effects of pastoral diligence had been made apparent in London; now Ministers in general were exhorted to imitate the admirable example. Let them by their consistent lives recommend the doctrines which they preached. The family and the parish were spheres of usefulness, to be filled up by the discharge of the duties included in a Christian walk and conversation; persons in holy orders ought to be pre-eminently holy. Enemies were seeking objections against Christ’s religion, its friends therefore ought to be diligent in its defence, acquainting themselves with the grounds on which it rested, and the modes of sophistry by which it was assailed. Frequent meetings of the Clergy for conference on religious matters might do much good, especially if Churchwardens and others of the laity could be brought to co-operate. Obstinate offenders should be subjected to ecclesiastical censure, and the assistance of the magistrate should be sought when it was likely to be effectual; people were not to shrink from exposing crime and securing its punishment, through fear of being denounced as informers. Finally, since education laid the firmest basis for morality and religion, it became the parochial clergy to be sedulous in the catechizing of children. In this way the Archbishop, through the medium of Diocesans and their Clergy, endeavoured to promote the interests of the Church.[306]

The power vested in the Crown of nominating Bishops and other dignitaries had been exercised during the life of Queen Mary very much according to her discretion. William,—perhaps because he was a foreigner, and also destitute of entire sympathy with Episcopalianism, or because he was so engrossed with foreign affairs,—seems to have been reluctant to take part in the bestowment of ecclesiastical patronage. In the year 1700 he devolved its responsibilities, to a large extent, upon the Archbishops of Canterbury and York, and the Bishops of Salisbury, Worcester, Ely, and Norwich. Whilst he was in the realm they were to signify to him their recommendation of such persons as they thought fit for vacant preferments, which recommendation they were to present through the Secretaries of State. If whilst he was beyond the seas, any Bishoprics, Deaneries, or other specified clerical offices in his gift, above the annual value of £140, should need filling up, the Commissioners were to transmit the names of suitable persons, respecting whom his pleasure would be made known under his sign-manual. At the same time he delegated to them full power at once to appoint to other preferments. Also, he declared, that neither when he was abroad nor when he was at home, should either of his Secretaries address him in reference to any benefices left to the recommendation or disposal of the Commissioners, without first communicating with them, also that no warrant should be presented for the Royal signature until their recommendation had been obtained.[307]

An affecting bereavement now occurred in the Royal family. William, Duke of Gloucester, a son of Princess[248] Anne and Prince George of Denmark, was heir to the throne, and therefore in him centred the hopes of the nation. He seems to have been a lively child, for in 1695, when only six years old, he ran to meet his uncle with a little musket on his shoulder, and presented arms. “I am learning my drill,” he cried, “that I may help you to beat the French.” Nothing could have better pleased the veteran, who soon afterwards actually created the boy Knight of the Garter. Military tastes continued to guide his childish amusements, and he formed a regiment of lads, chiefly from Kensington, who attended him at Campden House, the residence of his mother, a quaint mansion burnt down a few years ago. The education of the Prince early occupied the thoughts of William, who offered the post of Governor to the Duke of Shrewsbury, now restored to the Royal confidence.[308] Shrewsbury declined, and the office fell into the hands of Marlborough. A story is told to the effect, that the King said to the future hero of Blenheim, “Teach him to be what you are,[249] and my nephew cannot want accomplishments.” The still more important duties of preceptor to the youth were entrusted to Burnet, as already indicated. Windsor then being within the diocese of Salisbury, the Prince was to live there during the summer months, when the Bishop reckoned he would be in his diocese, and therefore in the way of his proper episcopal duties; he satisfied himself with thinking, that all would be right if the King allowed him ten weeks in the year for the other parts of his diocese,—a circumstance which shows how in those days notions of a Bishop’s office were different from what, happily, they are now. “I took to my own province,” says the right reverend preceptor, “the reading and explaining the Scriptures to him, the instructing him in the principles of religion, and the rules of virtue, and the giving him a view of history, geography, politics, and government. I resolved also to look very exactly to all the masters that were appointed to teach him other things.”[309]

But a sad fatality brooded over all the offspring of poor Anne. After a few days’ attack of fever, the young Duke died on the 30th of July.

He was buried in Westminster Abbey, and recently, upon the family vault being opened, amongst the ten small coffins of the children of James II., and the eighteen small coffins of the children of his daughter Anne, lay the coffin of the youthful William, resting in remarkable juxtaposition upon that of Elizabeth of Bohemia.[310] Thus one of an unfortunate race, who never attained the crown he inherited, mingled his dust with that of a great aunt, who soon lost the crown she had prompted her husband too eagerly to seize. As the nation unaffectedly mourned[250] the death of the youthful Duke, a gentleman,[311] living at Holland House, a friend of Atterbury’s, lamented the removal of his Royal neighbour in the following lines, which afford a specimen of the affected elegiac strains popular at the period:—

The Duke of Gloucester was the last Protestant heir to the Crown recognized in the Act of Settlement. His death therefore exposed the Royal succession to new perils, revived the hopes of the Jacobites, and created anxiety in the minds of William and his Ministers. The King at the time had left England nearly a month; and as, amidst the gardens of his retreat at Loo, he saw the shortening of the summer days, he had pondered future contingencies, and laid plans for preserving the work which he had wrought. When, in the following February, 1701, he, bearing evident signs of increasing frailty, met Parliament, he told the Houses that the loss just sustained made it necessary there should be a further provision for a Protestant succession; adding, that the happiness of the nation, and the security of religion, seemed to depend so much upon this, that he could not doubt it would meet with general concurrence. The addresses echoed the same sentiment, and in March the Bill of Succession came under Parliamentary debate. It determined that the Princess Sophia, Duchess-Dowager of Hanover, or her heirs, should[251] succeed upon failure of issue to William and Anne; and it laid down the principle that whosoever wore the Crown should commune with the Church of England, as by law established. Other important resolutions, which it does not come within my province to notice, were incorporated in the Bill; and these gave rise to fierce discussions between the two great political parties, who, throughout the whole of this reign, were teasing William out of his life, provoking the phlegmatic Dutchman to exclaim, that “all the difference he knew between the two parties was, that the Tories would cut his throat in the morning, and the Whigs in the afternoon.”[312] The Act of Settlement at length passed, and received the Royal assent.

It is curious to observe with respect to this Act, that Sophia, who was made the protectress of the Reformed faith, and who was to supersede the Stuarts on the throne, was neither a zealous Protestant nor a foe to the exiled family. For when asked what was the religion of her blooming daughter, at the time just thirteen years of age, she replied she had none as yet; “we are waiting to know what prince she is to marry, and whenever that point is determined, she will be duly instructed in the religion of her future husband—whether Protestant or Catholic.” And in a communication, which Lord Chancellor Hardwicke called her Jacobite letter, she bewailed the fate of the poor Prince of Wales, who, if restored, she said, might be easily guided in a right direction.[313]

A limitation of the heirship, within the pale of any particular Protestant community, which may become less and less national as time rolls on, is open to grave objections; but the limitation of descent within Protestant lines of some kind, appears to rest upon a sound basis. The[252] reasons for it are furnished not by the religious, but by the political character of Romanism. No doctrinal or ecclesiastical opinions ought to exclude a legitimate heir, but a Popish claimant is the subject of another and an ambitious power, which associates temporal with spiritual authority, and exercises assumed prerogatives after an elastic fashion, which can contract or expand them with exquisite cunning, as fear darkens, or as hope brightens the prospect of futurity. A Roman Catholic Sovereign is involved in complications intolerable to a Protestant people, with a history full of warning against foreign interference. It was a true instinct which led Lord William Russell, amidst the aberrations of party zeal, to deprecate as a terrible calamity the accession of a Papist; the same instinct prompted the limitation of the Succession Act. Taught by the story of the past, our ancestors guarded against Romish intermeddling, and it is well for the fortunes of this country, that, acting on this maxim, our fathers did not, in a fit of blind generosity, mistaken for justice, open or keep open a door of mischief which, in some perilous hour, it might be impossible to shut.

Another important event was now approaching. James II., tired out by a chequered life, desired to die. Whatever may be thought of his principles, and the effect of his reign upon the interests of his country, no one can doubt his religious sincerity, and when the immoralities of his earlier days had been discontinued, confessed, and deplored,[314] he manifested an earnest devoutness, tinged, of course, by the peculiarities of his faith. Dwelling upon the examples of some good men who had longed to be removed from this world, and upon the moral dangers to which others had been exposed, he counted[253] it “a high presumption for a slender reed not to desire to be sheltered from such terrible gusts as had overturned those lofty cedars.” When indulging in such meditations, he was seized with a fit in early spring, from which he partially recovered. Once more, within the Palace at St. Germains, he was seized, in the midst of his devotions at chapel, with another attack on the 2nd of September. Afterwards he sent for his son, who, seeing the bed stained with blood from a violent hæmorrhage, burst into violent weeping. Having calmed the child, his father conjured him to adhere to the Catholic faith; to be obedient to his mother, and grateful to the King of France; to serve God with all his strength, and if he should reign, to remember kings were made not for themselves but the good of their people, and to set a pattern of all manner of virtues.[315]

This was good advice, but it bore an application such as would guide the son in the father’s ways. He exhorted everybody about him to spend pious lives, and urged his few Protestant courtiers and servants to embrace the Catholic faith. It deserves mention that he forgave all who had injured him, mentioning in particular his daughter Anne, and his son-in-law William. But the most important circumstance connected with his dying moments was the visit of the Grand Monarque, who promised James he would take his family under his protection, and acknowledge the Prince of Wales as King of England—an assurance which drew joyful tears from the family and courtiers. On Friday, the 16th of September, 1701, James expired; as if a saint had been taken to heaven, the physicians and surgeons who made a post-mortem examination, kept particles of his body as relics, and the[254] attendants dipped their chaplets and handkerchiefs in his blood.[316]

William went into mourning. Coaches and liveries were put in black;[317] but tidings of the promise made by Louis soon aroused indignation.

The King was in Holland at this crisis, but Sir Thomas Abney, the Nonconformist Lord Mayor of London, at once caused an address to be voted to His Majesty, expressive of the loyalty of the citizens, and of their determination to oppose France and the Pretender.

After William had returned on his fortunate day, the 5th of November, he on the 11th dissolved Parliament, and then called another: as he was taking this step, loyal addresses poured in from all parts, and amongst them one from the London Nonconformists, presented by John Howe. They said they were grateful to Divine Providence for the settlement of the Protestant succession, and pledged themselves to use their utmost endeavours to maintain His Majesty’s title, and that of his successors, as by law established.[318] An address of the same nature was presented by the Baptists.[319]

The truth is, a new war now threatened Europe, for Louis had torn in pieces the Ryswick Treaty by the bedside of James, and deliberately defied the provisions of the Act of Settlement.

When William met his new Parliament on the 31st of December, 1701, he told them that the setting up of[255] the pretended Prince of Wales as King of England was not only the highest indignity to himself and the nation, but it concerned every one who valued the Protestant religion or the welfare of his country. “I have shown,” these were the closing words he used, “and will always show, how desirous I am to be the common father of all my people. Do you, in like manner, lay aside parties and divisions. Let there be no other distinction heard of amongst us for the future, but of those who are for the Protestant religion and the present Establishment, and of those who mean a Popish Prince and a French Government. I will only add this—if you do in good earnest desire to see England hold the balance of Europe, and to be indeed at the head of the Protestant interest, it will appear by your right improving the present opportunity.”[320]

His speech elicited applause. It charmed the Whigs, and many had it ornamentally printed in English, French, and Dutch, and hung up on the walls of their homes. Political animosities were lulled for awhile by circumstances inspiring concern for the Empire, and “the whole nation, split before into an hundred adverse factions, with a King at its head evidently declining to his tomb, the whole nation, Lords, Commons, and people, proceeded as one body, informed by one soul.”[321] Unanimously it was resolved that no peace should be made with France until after reparation for the indignity done to England.

A mania for oath-taking infected our fathers, and now, in addition to the old law, which had occasioned the nonjuring party, came a new law, which served to revive it. When death had taken away the Sovereign to whom they regarded themselves as pledged while he lived, the Nonjurors began to deliberate about taking the oath, but a[256] new form of abjuration stopped their deliberations.[322] Ken was troubled at the prospect of its universal imposition, and hoped its enforcement would be limited; but a Bill passed requiring not only all civil officers, but also all ecclesiastics, all members of the Universities, and all schoolmasters to acknowledge William as lawful and rightful King, and to deny any title whatever in the pretended Prince of Wales. Sixteen Lords, including Compton, Bishop of London, and Sprat, Bishop of Rochester, protested against the Abjuration Bill;[323] and others reasonably judged that to swear allegiance was one thing, but to swear respecting the nature of a title to the Crown was another—that in the first case people were within the region of fact, that in the second they were brought into the region of theory. Calamy records, with no apparent dissatisfaction, that the oath was thought to be the best means of disappointing such as hoped by the assistance of France to make way for the Pretender, and so accomplish the design of restoring arbitrary power and the Popish religion.[324] The Abjuration Bill received the Royal assent by Commission in the month of March, 1702.

Naturally at this juncture there were Jacobites who felt a flutter of excitement. Looking upon oaths as cobwebs easily brushed away, they hoped the Hanoverian succession might prove an idle dream, and, on the tiptoe of expectation, began eagerly to talk to one another of prospects, which brightened as the declining health of William foreboded his speedy removal. One busy agent forwarded for the use of the Stuarts certain proposals, in which he curiously sketched the political views of religious parties in this country, as they struck his eye.

“As for England, the parties most to be considered are—First, the Episcopal, which, being in possession of the bells, is by far the most numerous, though not the most active; for, being at their ease, and possessing not only the tythes but the magistracy and profitable employments of the nation, they flatter themselves with an opinion that upon any emergency or change of State, they shall be able to give the law to all other interests. And it is not improbable they might, could they find out a way to settle the Crown upon any solid basis. But that not being possible to be done but in the right line, that party rather suffers than approves of what has been done, by adding the House of Hanover to their weak and trembling entail, which, as it was the project only of the Prince of Orange and his Dutch Council, is by many suspected, but despised by more, nor could have passed the House of Commons, but that they were told it was the only way to express a contempt of the power of France; and by that means to make the people believe that they feared nothing thence, and likewise to oblige that Monarch to apprehend their power to be much greater than indeed it is; to stave off a war they more apprehend and dread themselves than he needs to do, notwithstanding all the rabble and trading part of the nation are universally for it.

“The next party requiring consideration is the Presbyterian, which consists of a malicious, sour, and subtle part of men, who are more united in malice than the former, and do, with their demure countenances and outside Pharisaical righteousness, draw from the churches to their meeting-houses the most hypocritical part of the trading people; so that their numbers are wonderfully increased of late years, to the terror of the aspiring part of the episcopal parsons, who dread that Bishops, Deans, and Chapters are tumbling down again, knowing bare[258] competencies too weak supports for their dissolute and scandalous lives.

“The next party to be considered is the Independent, under which denomination may be included that rabble of divers sects, which by above fifty several whimsical societies engross in the whole a greater number of dissenters to the Prelatical Church than the Presbyterians do, and are mortal enemies to both, including within them that sort of men which are most properly called Republicans or Commonwealth’s-men, a restless, bold, and busy spirit, easiest to be gained to your Majesty’s interest, it being become a maxim amongst the wisest of them, that since it appears impracticable to unite and settle all interests in a Commonwealth, it is absolutely necessary to restore your Majesty and the right line, to keep off the necessity of a perpetual war, which these botching entails apparently threaten the nation with. Nay, in their maxims they go farther, and say that it were better for the kingdom in general, but most for themselves in particular, that the rightful Monarch should be a Catholic rather than of the Episcopal or Presbyterian ways, which will ever in their several turns, when united to the Crown, persecute or at least discountenance them.

“The numerous party of the Quakers cannot be reckoned under the last head, and are not to be disregarded as mad men, as they seem to many to be. For, generally speaking; they are your Majesty’s friends, and in all discourses with their oppugners charge them with their inhuman and unjust dealing with their rightful Prince; an argument that nonplusses all, and converts some to see the wickedness of their ways. Besides, to my certain experience, there are many capable of being agents and negotiators amongst them, as willing, as able, if well directed.

“Lastly, the non-jurant party of the nation may be thought of, though not numerous enough without the Catholics to make any considerable strength or appearance in the field. These, however, are respected as men of honour, that the penitent or discontented may safely open their minds to, and can confide in; so that properly instructed, they are safe agitators dispersed in every corner of the nation, who too, upon occasion, will, to a man, appear in the field for your Majesty’s service.

“As for the Catholics, though I am sorry to say it, they seem the most desponding and least useful party in the kingdom; nay, which is worse, they are the only people who encourage the interested and atheistical to stick to the Prince of Orange, though they both despise and hate him as much as any; for the avowed despair the priests have brought those to is so universally owned, that it discourages the waverers from declaring themselves to be for their duty, and confirms the malicious in their insolence, so that some course must be taken for altering their conduct and conversation, or they will prove the greatest remora to any good design which may be set on foot.”[325]

We are apt to read History amidst mental illusions. We unconsciously transfer our knowledge of results to those who were living amidst antecedents. Hence, sometimes we credit Englishmen of William’s reign with a sense of security which could only arise from a defeat of plots, which then appeared by no means certain. Indeed, the stability of the Revolution Settlement was not assured until the middle of the next century. Up to that time moments occurred when Government knew it sat upon barrels of gunpowder. William’s throne to the last[260] remained in a shaky condition. The end alone prevents our recognizing the obvious parallel between his reign and that of Louis Philippe in France. A counter-Revolution was imminent throughout; and to our fathers in those days we must not attribute the lordly conviction of permanence which we cherish with so much pride. People in London under William could count on things lasting as then they were, with almost as little confidence as people in Paris during the last forty years. But powerful elements blended with changes in Great Britain such as have not influenced those of our Gallic neighbours. With them Revolutions have been political—with us religious. Puritanism and Anglo-Catholicism—factors both for good and evil—we find at work on this side the channel, not on the other.

As Parliament was framing oaths, and Jacobites were brewing plots, Convocation, being restored to activity, plunged itself into new controversies, the outgrowths of old ones, which require to be recorded with some minuteness, in spite of their being as dry as withered thorns.

Convocational history in the reign of William III., from the year 1689 to the year 1700, is simply a history of writs and prorogations. During that period no business was ever transacted, the Lower House never met. Tillotson and Tenison, knowing the temper prevalent in the Church, aware of the influence of the nonjuring Clergy, sensible of the wide diffusion of sympathy with them, and alive to the fact of an extensive revival of High-Church principles, were apprehensive of a collision between the two Houses in case they proceeded to business. They therefore thought it prudent to hold in abeyance the right of meeting, until some exigency rendered their coming together indispensable. Indignant murmurs at this state of things freely escaped the lips of many a Dean, Prebendary, Archdeacon, and Rector; and at length found utterance in a publication, which produced a wonderful impression, and led to important results. Few pamphlets have been more famous in their day than the Letter to a Convocation Man, published in the year 1697. It was widely circulated, read by all sorts of people, canvassed in City coffee-houses, discussed in country inns, talked of by parishioners under church porches, and pondered in rectories, vicarages, and quiet homes all over England. It made, says Nicholson, “a[262] considerable noise and pother in the kingdom.”[326] The Letter insisted upon the state of the country—so marked by false and pernicious principles, by irreligious indifference, and by immoral conduct—as a reason why the representatives of the Church should assemble in their legal capacity. The constitutional right of Convocation was strongly urged, the Royal writ needful for it being, as the writer alleged, no more a sign of precariousness in this case, than is a Royal writ in any other. A resemblance was traced between Convocation and Parliament, and curious antiquarian and legal questions were reviewed. The author touched on the mode of summoning Convocation—a subject which requires to be explained, not only on account of the use which he made of it, but on account of a use to which it was put by another advocate on the same side.

English Convocations, since the 25th of Henry VIII.—when an Act was passed depriving Archbishops of the right to call those assemblies at pleasure—came to be convoked exclusively by writs addressed to the Archbishops, who were authorized, under their seals, to summon for business the Clergy of their province. The Archbishop of Canterbury addressed his mandate to the Bishop of London, to be executed by him as his provincial Dean, and the Bishop of each diocese to whom the immediate execution of such a mandate belongs, received directions to make a proper return to his Grace or his Commissary—such return, when made, being entered in the Register of the Archiepiscopal See. But, as early as the reign of Edward I., there was introduced into the writ summoning a Bishop to Parliament a clause—called the præmonentes or præmunientes clause, from its beginning with that word—requiring him[263] to give notice of such writ to the Prior and Chapter, and to the Archdeacon and Clergy, so as to cause the Prior and the Archdeacon, in their own persons, and the Chapter and Clergy by their Procurators, or proxies—one for the Chapter, and two for the Clergy—to be present with him at Westminster, there to attend to public affairs. After the Reformation, Deans were substituted for Priors; and, with that alteration, the writ continued to run in its ancient form.[327] The writ indicated exactly the same kind of representatives to be summoned as did the Archbishop’s mandate; and, upon this ground, the author of the Letter insisted upon the right of the Lower Clergy to assemble for deliberation as being no less inalienable than the right of the House of Commons—the premonition, or warning, to be delivered to the Clergy being, as he says, “an argument of invincible strength to establish the necessity of Convocations meeting as often as Parliaments.”

The author of this famous pamphlet maintained that Convocation had the power of determining its own matters of debate; but in the maintenance of this position, he had to explain away the sense of the words employed in the writ of summons, super præmissis, et aliis quæ sibi clarius exponentur ex parte Domini Regis—words which limit Convocational discussions to topics proposed by Royal authority.[328]

To this anonymous publication, which roused High Churchmen to activity and filled Low Churchmen with[264] alarm, an answer appeared from the pen of Dr. William Wake, already well and favourably known in the world of letters, through his answers to Bossuet, and other writings on the Roman Catholic controversy, as well as his version of the Epistles of the Apostolical Fathers. He contended that ancient Synods were convened by Royal authority, that when they assembled, the Civil Magistrate had a right to prescribe questions for debate, and that they could not dissolve without his license. The King of England, he said, had supreme power over English Convocations, and the Clergy could confer on no subject without his permission. After certain historical deductions, he denied that sitting in Convocation is an original Church right, or that it is the same thing as the Parliamentary privilege, vouchsafed by the præmonentes clause in writs sent to Bishops. According to Wake’s argument, the 25th of Henry VIII. has restored to the Crown its full authority, and placed the control of Convocation entirely in Royal hands; and he ventures to declare the possibility of Church Synods becoming useless and even hurtful; asking, with reference to opinions then violently expressed, “What good can the Prince propose to himself, or any wise man hope for, from any assembly that can be brought together, under the unhappy influence of these and the like prepossessions?”[329]

Passing over other combatants, we must particularly notice one who entered the field on the other side, and was destined to play a distinguished part in the political as well as the ecclesiastical affairs of his country. Francis Atterbury, born just before the Act of Uniformity was passed in 1662, and educated first at Westminster and then at Oxford, distinguished himself at the early age of[265] twenty-five, by the extraordinary ability which he exhibited as a controversialist. He then won literary laurels by answering an attack upon the spirit of Martin Luther and the origin of the Reformation; and soon afterwards, when minister of Bridewell, where his eloquence attracted popular attention, some of his sermons involved him in discussions upon points of moral and practical divinity. Scarcely had he been made Preacher of the Rolls, when he plunged into a conflict purely classical. Charles Boyle, afterwards Earl of Orrery, who had been Atterbury’s pupil at Oxford, published an edition of the Epistles of Phalaris and the Fables of Æsop, then recently eulogized by Sir William Temple—a publication which led to a controversy singularly renowned in the history of criticism. Richard Bentley exposed the spurious character of these Epistles by an appeal to external evidence, and thereby paved the way for an application of similar criticism to productions of a far different character.[330] In defiance of the exposure which reflected upon the literary reputation of both Temple and Boyle, some of their friends, with chivalrous devotion, came forward on their behalf; Swift, in his Tale of the Tub, and his Battle of the Books, tilting his lance on the side of his patron Temple; and Atterbury—associated with others under Boyle’s name, in an examination of Bentley’s Dissertations—appearing as the champion of his late pupil. Though no match for Bentley in scholarship, Atterbury possessed immense power in respect of rhetorical style, clever sophistry, cutting sarcasm, and personal invective; and these were employed with such effect as for awhile to overwhelm the illustrious scholar, and to silence his charges against the defenders of Phalaris.[266] However, the triumph was short; Bentley resumed his attacks, and demolished the work of his critics, in a book which, for learning, logic, and humour, is perhaps unrivalled in that class of productions. Atterbury must have been sorely vexed by his discomfiture when in 1700 he threw himself into the great ecclesiastical contest of the period, and published his Rights, Powers, and Privileges of an English Convocation.

Indulging in his fondness for personal attack, he abused the recent volume by Dr. Wake as a shallow and empty performance, deficient in historical learning and destructive of Church liberty. After referring to the ancient practice of holding provincial Synods, he treated Convocations as coming in their room, and as constituting necessary appendages to English Parliaments. He insisted much upon the fact of the Clergy having been summoned by the præmonentes clause in the writs addressed to spiritual Peers, and regretted that by a political blunder the legislative representation of the Church had become separated from the legislative representation of the State. Without, however, attempting to revive obsolete proceedings, he asserted most pertinaciously the indefeasible right of the clerical order to sit in Convocation, and to petition, advise, address, represent, and declare their judgment upon their own affairs, notwithstanding their inability to make, or attempt, any new canons without express Royal authority.

The question of assembling Convocation started from an historical point of view, but it came before the public mind in its constitutional and practical bearings; yet, amidst the multitude of publications on the subject, one seeks in vain for a consistent and satisfying treatment of the subject on either side. Those who believed in Convocation, and who wished to see it vigorously[267] revived, did not dare to express all that they believed, or all that they wished; they were checked by the spirit of the age, and hampered by the circumstances of the Church. At the same time they ignored the great change which had come over political and ecclesiastical affairs through the Revolution, and they also shut their eyes to the fact, that it is impossible to enjoy State patronage and emoluments without some abridgment of ecclesiastical action. Those who wished Convocation should not assemble feared to deny its rights, and shrunk from either proposing its extinction or advocating its reform. They only desired to mesmerize it, till clerical animosities should expire, and the Church should be of one mind—a consummation no nearer now than it was then. The prudence forced upon this class of persons by their political position, asserted itself at the expense of logical consistency; and, as is often the case, practical sagacity made men awkward reasoners.

There might be arguments for abolishing Convocation, or modifying its powers—at any rate for defining them; but, whilst no such arguments were urged, it was impossible to silence gainsayers, who contended that practice ought to be accordant with theory. If Convocations be like Parliaments, things in themselves good and wise, differences of opinion no more furnish reasons against Convocations than against Parliaments. If what Clarendon says be true, “that of all mankind, none form so bad an estimate of human affairs as Churchmen,”[331] that may be an argument for extinguishing Convocational rights, not for continuing to them a nominal instead of a real existence.

Nor was there conclusiveness of historical argument,[268] or any consistency of demand, on the other side. High-Church advocates were then, as always, puzzled how to forge links of union between English Convocations and the early Synods of the Church, especially the assembly at Jerusalem. What resemblance exists between them, except of the most general description?—a resemblance such as pertains to all ecclesiastical meetings whatsoever. The essential conditions of a Convocation of Canterbury are that it must meet by authority from the Crown; that it consist of two Houses, one composed of Bishops, and the other of Presbyters, both purely clerical; that the members of the Lower House must be dignitaries, together with Proctors, elected by the Clergy, and that nothing which they do has binding force without the consent of the Sovereign. What is there in these distinctive features of an English Convocation to connect it with Synods before the era of State Establishments? What precedent for any of the essential parts of the structure can be found in the history of the meeting at Jerusalem? The Apostles and Elders met altogether, and joined in a deliverance upon the question at issue. No other representatives or delegates appeared except those who came from Antioch. The resemblance between the meeting at Jerusalem and meetings in Saxon and Norman times is a pure imagination, beyond such resemblance as belongs to religious conferences in general. Nor can any specific likeness be traced between mixed Anglo-Saxon Councils and purely clerical Convocations. An Anglo-Saxon provincial Synod was in many points very unlike Convocation;[332] and between A.D. 816, when the Synod[269] of Challok occurred, in which Abbots, Presbyters, and Deacons met, and A.D. 1065, I do not find that more than one provincial Synod was held; a national Synod met under Dunstan, A.D. 969. Provincial Synods, previously occasional and rare, did not become regular and frequent until the reign of Edward I.

Convocation, with full power to deliberate, to propose and enact canons, to alter existing formularies, to pronounce authoritatively upon points of doctrine, and to originate schemes of ecclesiastical action, co-ordinate with the functions of Parliament, would have been a reality; but, in the view of many, such power would be inconsistent with the secular relations of the Church, as dependent on the State for much of its pecuniary support, for more of its social prestige, and for all of its political pre-eminence. Convocation, as it was permitted to exist under William III., was really a mere form, and that a very troublesome one. Nor did Atterbury, or any who sided with him, endeavour to bring it into accordance with their theory. The theory was one of ecclesiastical independence; but when they saw some of the difficulties of their position, they only endeavoured to loosen a little the chain which bound up the liberty of Convocational action.[333]

The new Ministry, formed in 1700, stipulated that Convocation should be restored to its sessional rights and privileges.[334] This point being conceded, those of the Clergy whom it particularly gratified, burst into a state of clamorous excitement, broaching new or reviving[270] old theories. Atterbury, as earnest in action as he was eloquent in speech, regarded it as eminently a critical juncture, and felt a strong desire that those members who thought with him should come to town a fortnight beforehand for consultation. He wished them, he said, to take proper methods for preventing or breaking through the snares of enemies.[335] He urged upon his friends, Trelawny, Sprat, and Compton, the execution of the præmunientes clause in the Parliamentary writ, as well as the execution of the Archbishop’s provincial mandate.[336] In this measure the Bishops just named concurred, and used their writs accordingly; so did Hough, Bishop of Lichfield, and Mew, Bishop of Winchester.[337]

Tenison, in his archiepiscopal barge, started from Lambeth Palace on Monday morning. February the 10th, and landed at St. Paul’s Wharf, whence he was escorted[271] by a number of Advocates and Proctors to the west end of the new Cathedral; the Portland stone being then unblackened by London smoke, and the structure, as well as its ornaments, being still in a state of incompleteness. Received by the Dean and Canons, his Grace was conducted to the choir, and placed in the Dean’s Stall, fresh from the touch of the carver’s chisel,—the Suffragan Bishops occupying the other stalls on either side. After the Litany had been chanted in Latin, the Bishop of Chichester preached, and at the close of the sermon the choir sung an anthem. The assembly proceeded to the new Chapter-House, where the Archbishop, being seated on his throne, addressed his brethren, after the writ of summons had been read by the Bishop of London. The election of a Prolocutor for the Lower House followed in order; the Dean of Canterbury, Dr. George Hooper, being preferred to the Dean of Gloucester, Dr. William Jane. High Churchmen, with dismal forebodings of opposition from Low Churchmen, whispered amongst themselves as soon as they had presented their Prolocutor, that perhaps they would be adjourned, without permission to enter on business. This policy Atterbury determined to obstruct; for, said he, if we come to any resolutions, they will certainly be for the honour and interest of the Church, since we have a majority in the Lower House, as remarkable as that of our opponents in the Upper.[338]

Convocation having solemnly assembled, and the usual preliminaries being accomplished, Atterbury was intent on going to work; but his correspondence indicates that he moved too fast to please some of his brethren, and that he had reason to apprehend they meant to reject his leadership. They had not proceeded many steps, when Dr. Ashurst and Dr. Freeman incurred Atterbury’s censure, because after the Archbishop’s form of prorogation had come down, and the Prolocutor had informed the House they were not to regard themselves as being prorogued until he told them they were, these two gentlemen, as the Archdeacon states, were very noisy, insisting upon it that they were actually prorogued, and that it was a dangerous thing for them, under such circumstances, to sit any longer. The Prolocutor immediately arose, and said, as these gentlemen were fidgeting about in their scarlet robes, that if they thought they were incurring any risk, they were at liberty to depart. They immediately rose, with the hope of a respectable following, but as they vanished, they were, if we may depend on an opponent’s report, followed only by a general smile, and the condemnation of their own party.[339]

Another question agitated the House the same day. Complaints were made of episcopal interference with the election of clergymen, and accordingly a resolution to that effect passed the House, supported by a large number, says one authority—by a small number, says another.[340] The same day a committee was appointed to investigate disputed elections—a step which, in the estimation of Low Churchmen encroached upon the episcopal[273] prerogative, for they maintained that the Bishop with his suffragans must be the final judge of all such matters.[341]

Robing themselves on the 28th of February, the members glided along the aisles of the Abbey up the steps of Henry the VII.’s Chapel, when they proceeded to business, without taking any notice of their right reverend superiors, who had also robed themselves that same morning, and sat down within the Jerusalem Chamber. It plainly appeared that the two ecclesiastical conclaves were becoming hostile camps. A message from the Archbishop soon reached the Lower House, asking for an explanation, why they went to prayers before the Bishops came. The question at issue now formally arose, and then began a lengthened contest, as to whether the Lower House had self-contained rights, like those of the Commons—a right of self-adjournment and prorogation, and a right to meet, consult, and resolve, without being dependent from step to step upon the will of Prelates. The High-Church party, so zealous in theory for episcopal order, thus in practice broke with their right reverend fathers. In the controversy was mixed up also an obstinate contention on the part of the Prolocutor about what was meant by the words, in hunc locum in the Archbishop’s schedule; to settle this point were added the words, vulgo vocatum Jerusalem Chamber. For a little while, some semblance of union continued. Each party treated the other with punctilious respect. Atterbury, indeed, at the commencement anticipated, in the matter of the address, a “tough dispute,” and, as he said this, resembled a war-horse snorting on the edge of a battle-field. He pressed the Lower House not to wait for[274] the Lords, but to prepare an address of its own; yet, when an address came down to them, the Lower House heartily joined in it, only proposing a slight alteration, which the Prelates approved. Ripples quickly rose on the surface of debate. According to Atterbury, upon the 8th of March, the Dean of Peterborough, Dr. Freeman, already mentioned, behaved amiss, and threw out words reflecting on the Prolocutor, for which a censure was demanded, and would have followed, had the offender not begged pardon. The confused statement made to this effect, indicates that some of the Clergy resisted the highflown policy of their brethren; two days afterwards, however, we find both Houses amicably taking a journey to the pleasant village of Kensington, where stood His Majesty’s favourite palace. At half-past two on Monday afternoon, March the 10th, the Archbishop and Bishops, in their distinctive attire, and the Prolocutor in his cap and hood, and the rest of the Clergy following, took coach at the west end of the Abbey. They proceeded by Knightsbridge and the side of the Park—the trees beginning to bud with early spring, the people by the way watching the dignitaries as their faces peered through the windows of the lumbering vehicles—until, arriving at the Dutch-looking palace, with its prim gardens, the procession of the Clergy reached the Royal presence—the Bishops going to the right hand of the throne, the Prolocutor and the rest to the left. A loyal address was presented, and a gracious reply returned.

The tug of war, of which there had been omens before that pleasant excursion, began in earnest soon afterwards.

The Lower House asserted its claim to independent action, to adjourn itself when and where it pleased, to[275] originate and transact any business whatsoever and howsoever it pleased; always, it should be distinctly stated, choosing its time of sitting according to the time fixed by his Grace of Canterbury’s schedule. To accomplish what was designed, committees of the whole House were appointed, who claimed a right to sit, in this form at least, upon intermediate days, when many did so assemble under cover of a strict adherence to admitted rules; but others would not, counting it a breach of law in substance, if not in form. A matter of business, originating in the Lower House, without consultation with the Upper, and in known opposition to its wishes, was the examination of a certain heretical book—namely, Toland’s Christianity not Mysterious—the object of which is explained on the title page, “A Treatise showing that there is nothing in the Gospel contrary to Reason, nor above it, and that no Christian Doctrine can be called a Mystery.”

It should be stated, that at the same time another book, entitled, Essays on the Balance of Power, in which the author asserted, that men had been promoted in the Church who were remarkable for nothing but their disbelief in the Divinity of Christ—a statement intended to bring certain Bishops into disrepute—attracted the attention of the Upper House; upon which their Lordships caused to be affixed to the Abbey doors a paper calling upon the author, whoever he might be, to make good his assertions or to submit to punishment for so base and public a scandal. This was an extraordinary plan, reminding one—chiefly, however, by contrast as to importance—of Luther’s doctrinal theses affixed to the church gates at Wittenberg; and also recalling—more in the way of resemblance—how Archbishop Arundel’s citation of Lord Cobham was stuck on the entrance to Rochester Cathedral, to be defied by him to whom it was addressed.

When Toland’s book was sent up from the Lower House to the Bishops for judgment, they felt that it was a serious matter to enter upon the business, as by condemning certain published opinions, and approving others, they might be altering the recognized doctrines of the Church. Legal objections had on a similar occasion been alleged against such proceedings, because of the consequences they might involve; now they were urged afresh. The Bishops, therefore, came to the conclusion, in accordance with the advice of eminent lawyers, that they could not censure the books without license from the King, lest they should incur certain penalties.

Upon the eve of a prorogation for Easter, after the dispute about the rights of sitting and adjournment had been carried on with an obstinacy which it would be tiresome to describe, the Archbishop delivered to the members of Convocation a speech, in which he alluded to the existing dispute: “We have many enemies, and they wait for nothing more than to see the union and order of this Church, which is both its beauty and its strength, broken by those who ought to preserve it.” “For the maintaining the episcopal authority is so necessary to the preservation of the Church, that the rest of the Clergy are no less concerned in it than the Bishops themselves.” “I have thought fit, with the rest of my brethren, to prorogue the Convocation for some time. It is a season of devotion, and I pray God it may have a good effect on all our minds.” “We, on our part, are willing to forget all that is past, and to go on with you at our next meeting, as well as at all times, with all tenderness and parental affection, in all such things as shall conduce to the good of this Church.”[342]

In spite of the prorogation until the 8th of May, the Prolocutor and some of the Clergy persevered in their assertion of independence, and sat for some hours the same day on which his Grace prorogued both Houses; then they adjourned to meet the next day. But this policy, being esteemed by some High Churchmen as a stretch of power quite unconstitutional, led to a secession, which considerably weakened the influence of the party.

When all had come back from celebrating the Easter festival, and the Prolocutor appeared before the Upper House with a paper in his hand, the Primate returned to the old charge of irregularity, and told him he could not recognize any of the proceedings carried on since his adjournment. The Prolocutor replied, that he had been commanded by the Lower House to bring up the paper, and did therefore present it, as an Act of the House. After being laid upon their Lordships’ table, the paper was found to contain arguments against the course pursued by them in reference to Toland’s work. The Bishops now proposed that committees from the two Houses should meet, with a view to an amicable arrangement, but the majority of the Lower House refused to nominate any committee for the purpose; a refusal which exceedingly annoyed several members. The majority determined to ride the high horse, and to dig the spur into its flanks; so when the schedule of adjournment next time came down, the Prolocutor refused to notice it at all, and adjourned on his own authority; an act against which Beveridge, Sherlock, and others protested, in a paper which they signed and presented to the Archbishop. What still more annoyed the Upper House, was that the Clergy, under the Prolocutor’s presidency, agreed upon a censure of a book by one of the Prelates. This was The Exposition of the XXXIX Articles, by Bishop Burnet,[278] in which, with learning, moderation, and good temper, he expounded the doctrines of the Church of England according to his idea, treating the Articles as terms of peace and union, intended to receive a considerable latitude of interpretation. Anything but unanimity and decorum of behaviour marked the proceedings of the Lower Assembly at this moment; and a report went abroad that one of the members, in consequence of a speech he delivered, ran the risk of having his gown torn off his back. The report is an exaggeration; it arose out of the conduct of some one who, by rudely twitching the dress of a speaker, put an end to his unpleasant oration. Words uttered within the Abbey walls were reported outside in garbled forms, which led to explanations and counter-explanations, to assertions and denials, which provoked fresh controversy, and it became a difficult thing to determine what exactly the two parties up in arms did and said. Enough, however, was manifest to prove, that many of the ministers of religion, assembled to promote the prosperity of Christ’s Church, were sadly forgetful of the simplest lessons of the Gospel.

Connected with the presentation of the censure upon Burnet’s book to the Upper House, there occurred two or three curious episodes. Adjoining the Jerusalem Chamber is a small apartment called the Organ Chamber; and there, a month before, on the 5th of April, had happened an incident which ruffled the feelings of the very reverend Prolocutor, and the clergymen who accompanied him. They were kept waiting at their Lordships’ door, as they said, an hour and a half, as their opponents said, only so long as was needful to read their paper and debate upon it; the circumstance being attributed by some to the insolence of the Prelates, by others, to a[279] mistake of the doorkeeper. On the 30th of May, when the Prolocutor, with the Deans of Windsor and Christ Church, went up with the paper about Burnet’s book, and were again waiting a while in the same antechamber, the Bishop of Bangor came out, commissioned by their Lordships, to ask the Prolocutor whether the message he had now to bring in, was to set right the irregularity complained of? The Prolocutor, according to the Bishop’s report, said, first “it was something in order to set that irregularity right;” then, correcting himself, he added, “it was concerning that irregularity.” After which the door to the chamber being opened, in walked the Prolocutor and his companions, the Archbishop observing to them, “If you have anything to offer, in order to the setting right the irregularity we have complained of, we are ready to receive it.” Immediately the Prolocutor stated, that he had brought a humble representation touching an Exposition of the XXXIX Articles, that it had no relation to the alleged irregularity; but with regard to that, they were ready to satisfy their Lordships whenever called upon to do so. The paper containing the censure was rejected, and some of the Prelates considered the Prolocutor had employed a subterfuge for its introduction. The Bishop of Bangor, in so many words, complained of prevarication, a charge which fanned the Lower House into a blaze of resentment.

At this time, as on a former occasion, some of the minority in the Lower House protested against the proceedings of the majority, by signing a paper to that effect, to be presented to the Bishops; George Bull, Archdeacon of Llandaff, being amongst those who appended their names. This protest, in its turn, became another element of discord.

Upon the 6th of June, as the Prolocutor and others of[280] the Lower House crowded the little Organ Chamber, whom should they find there, quietly putting on his robes, but the Welsh Bishop, whom they so much disliked. Looking at him, the incensed president of the Lower Clergy asked, according to one version, “Were you pleased to say in the Upper House that I lied to you?” According to a second, “My Lord of Bangor, did you say I lied?” The Bishop answered, in some disorder, “I did not say you lied; but I did say, or might say, that you told me a very great untruth.” Amidst threats and demands of satisfaction, the Prelate was glad to get out of the noise of the crowded anteroom into the serene atmosphere of the more spacious chamber; which, however, as soon as the Prolocutor had been admitted within the door, witnessed a renewal of personal strife. Bishop Humphreys adhering to his statement about what had taken place, and Dean Hooper adhering to his, something still worse immediately followed. The Prolocutor having inquired whether their Lordships had entered upon their Acts any reflections upon him, Tenison rejoined, with all his rock-like firmness, and all his prudent control of temper, “Acts, we have no acts, only minutes.” The Prolocutor’s inquiry proved too much for Burnet, the person attacked in the paper, who now—with characteristic impetuosity, his round face no doubt flushed with scarlet—cried aloud with a sonorous voice, “This is fine, indeed. The Lower House will not allow a committee to inspect their books, and now they demand to see ours.” “I ask nothing,” exclaimed the Prolocutor, “but what I am concerned to know, and what of right I may demand.” “This,” retorted Burnet, “is according to your usual insolence.” “Insolence, my Lord, do you give me that word?” asked the other. “Yes, insolence,” reiterated the Bishop of Salisbury; “you deserve that word, and[281] worse. Think what you will of yourself, I know what you are.” The Archbishop, wondering whereunto all this might grow, civilly interposed, that perhaps the Prolocutor had been misrepresented, which the Prolocutor turned to his own advantage, and, to Burnet’s annoyance, wound up this extraordinary altercation with the remark, that he was “satisfied if in this matter he stood right in their Lordships’ opinion; about what his Lordship of Salisbury pleased to think, he felt not much concerned.” Back went the Dean to Henry the VII.’s Chapel, determined to make the best of the business to the Clergy, who sat down to hear his report; but when he said that the Upper House had expressed their satisfaction, or seemed to be satisfied (for the ipsissima verba in these contentions were continually coming into question), up rose one who had attended him to the Bishops’ chamber, to say, “he must do this justice to declare, that their Lordships did not so much as seem to be satisfied, but had showed their partiality.”[343]

Another heap of fuel was by all this cast upon the already blazing fire, and it was moved that the House should resent the indignity offered to their Prolocutor in the execution of his office, and return him thanks for his conduct.

The House recorded in its minutes the following entry: “Whereas the reverend the Prolocutor hath been hardly[282] treated in the Upper House, and particularly this 6th day of June, 1701, was taxed by the Bishop of Salisbury as behaving himself with his usual insolence, saying further, he deserved that and worse words, we cannot but resent this great indignity offered to our Prolocutor and this House; and, therefore, take this opportunity to return our most humble thanks for his conduct in the faithful and recent discharge of his office upon all occasions.”

The Upper House, on the 13th of June, determined that the Lower had no power judicially to censure any book; that it ought not to have entered upon the examination of one by a Bishop, without acquainting the Bishops with it; that the censure on the Bishop of Sarum’s work was in general terms, without any citation of passages; that the Bishop had done great service by his History of the Reformation, and other writings; and that, though private persons might expound the Articles, it was not proper for Convocation to enter upon such a subject. They also resolved, that the Bishop of Bangor had made a true and just report of what had taken place between himself and the Prolocutor; that the paper read by the latter did not relate to the irregularity complained of; and that his answer was such as ought not to have been given to his Grace, or to any member of the Upper House.

Convocation was prorogued to the 7th of August, then to the 18th of September, and was at length dissolved with the Parliament.

All the Prelates, with three exceptions, concurred in these proceedings. The exceptions were Compton, Bishop of London; Trelawny, Bishop of Exeter; and Sprat, who, with the Deanery of Westminster, held the Bishopric of Rochester.

Compton, after his extreme liberalism and low[283] churchmanship at the time of the Revolution, had, by the end of the century—soured, perhaps, by being twice passed over in appointments to the primacy—become a decided Tory; and now he threw his influence into the High-Church scale, without, however, making himself conspicuous in the Convocation controversy. Trelawny, one of the seven Bishops, had been immensely popular in his native county at the time of the great trial, and had formed the burden of a Cornish ballad—

He retained a secret attachment to James II. after the Revolution. That monarch had, in the midst of his troubles, promised to translate him from Bristol to Exeter; but the turn of events in favour of William, so it is insinuated, drew the Bishop into a betrayal of his old master; at any rate, in some way, from William he obtained his improved preferment; but afterwards he showed himself anxious to deny that the Bishops had invited the Prince over, though, as he said, “we found ourselves obliged to accept of the deliverance.”[344] Trelawny never showed any sympathy with the party led by Tillotson, Burnet, and Tenison; and, in the Correspondence of Atterbury, he appears as the chief of those to whom, as diocesan and friend, the lively and interesting letters of the Archdeacon of Totness are addressed. The Archdeacon constantly kept the Bishop informed of what was going on in the Jerusalem Chamber and in Henry the VII.’s Chapel; and it is plain, from the way in which he[284] wrote, how much influence he had acquired over his patron’s mind. The intimate, cordial, and approving friend of Atterbury could not but be opposed to the proceedings of Tenison and Burnet. Sprat was not a man of much principle; he had joined with Dryden and Waller in poetic praise of Oliver Cromwell, he had sat on James’ High Commission, he had read the Declaration of Indulgence in servile submissiveness, but with faltering lips; he had voted for the Regency, and then taken the new oaths, and assisted at the Coronation; and though he had cleared himself from the charge of treason, there is reason to believe that he was Jacobite at heart. He hated Nonconformists, and went in for High Church measures; and as no love was lost between the Bishops of Rochester and Salisbury, the latter said of the former, he had “been deeply engaged in the former reigns, and he stuck firm to the party to which, by reason of the liberties of his life, he brought no sort of honour.”[345]

In the spring of 1701, when the great ecclesiastical tournament was going on within the Abbey walls, a new ecclesiastical knight entered the lists outside, in the field of literature. He not only broke a lance, but engaged in a hand-to-hand encounter with the famous antagonist who had distinguished himself equally in book-writing and in debate; White Kennet came forward to answer Francis Atterbury. White Kennet—a curious-looking person, whose forehead, to the day of his death, bore witness to an accident which happened in his youth, for he wore a large patch of black velvet over a ghastly scar—was a man of great archeological research, an eminent Saxon scholar, and a friend of Mr. Tanner and[285] of Dr. Hicks. He had published, in 1695, his well known Parochial Antiquities, and now he sent forth his Ecclesiastical Synods and Parliamentary Convocations historically stated and vindicated from the Misrepresentations of Mr. Atterbury. The title intimates that the object was not to test the Convocation question by applying to it texts of Scripture, or the opinions of the Fathers, or principles of reason, or the results of experience; but to examine it closely in its connection with English history and English law. After the fashion of the day, especially as it appears in the polemical department, whilst using occasionally courteous expressions, he deals very unpleasant blows, depreciating his opponent’s learning, exposing his mistakes, pointing out where he had confounded facts and fallen into sophistry, not omitting to throw the shield of his erudition over Dr. Wake, who had been roughly handled by his excited adversaries. Kennet’s main positions were—that Parliamentary Convocations are not in essence and nature the same things as ecclesiastical synods; that not spiritual affairs, but the taxing of the Clergy, gave the first occasion of their being called together in connection with Parliament—their first appearance in that association being in the year 1282, in the eleventh year of Edward I., the first proctors of the rural priesthood being soon brought into parliamentary attendance. Repeatedly he asserts that Parliamentary Convocations, although ecclesiastical in their constituent parts, are not ecclesiastical in their objects and purposes, and he repeatedly charges Atterbury with confusing civil councils with sacred synods.[346]

It was a pet idea with Atterbury, that Bishops should avail themselves of the præmunientes clause. Kennet[286] undertook to show that he was mistaken as to the time of its origin; that he incorrectly maintained the constancy of its practical application; that he was deceived in his notice of its nature and effect, and that the modern had not, any more than the ancient Clergy, reason to be fond of it. The provincial summons to Convocation, issued by an Archbishop, he maintained to be a sufficient authority without diocesan writs. “From the three or four first years of Queen Elizabeth,” he says, “when the Protestant Clergy might be trusted for obedient subjects, there is not one proof that ever any Bishop made a return of the præmunientes to the Crown, or that ever the Crown challenged such a return from any Bishop.”[347]

Of the erudition and ingenuity shown in Kennet’s book there can be no doubt: it clears up some interesting archeological points in English history; but I am at a loss to understand what bearing his arguments, as far as they go—for it must be remembered he gives only the first part of the work—are meant to have on the practical determination of the controversy. If, as he represented, the existing Convocation was but the relic of an extinguished prerogative of self-taxation, once possessed by the Clergy, then it remained only the shadow of a name, and stood amongst the meaningless things which it would be a good clearance to sweep away. If he took such a view, he does not, as far as I can find, express it; rather he assumes throughout, that Convocations by Royal authority, under archiepiscopal control, without the power of making laws or discussing theological or ecclesiastical questions, are quite wise and proper. How they can be so when reduced to such a nullity, it is difficult to conceive. Kennet’s theory, to any one free[287] from the prejudices and heartburnings of the dispute, is unsatisfactory to the last degree.

When winter approached, the prospect of a new Parliament and a new Convocation opened on the eyes of Atterbury with a fascinating effect; and as the autumn leaves fell in the London parks, the Archdeacon girded up his loins for a fresh attack. He was concerned about many things—about the opposition his party was likely to encounter, about the exact place of meeting of the Clergy, and about the execution of the præmunientes clause, notwithstanding Kennet’s destructive criticisms. He says to Trelawny, “Unless some spirit be put into our affairs, and the managers of them, and they attend here punctually, and behave courageously, our cause must sink, and we must be broken; for we are beset, and unless a vigorous stand be made, shall find they will be too hard for us. Their Lay interest is much stronger than it is imagined to be; they know it, and feel it, and accordingly speak in a much higher strain than ever they used to do, and talk more securely of success at the next meeting.”[348]

It was thought the Lower House needed more room for their assembly. Sir Christopher Wren was consulted on the subject; but “any carpenter in the town understood that matter as well as he, and I would undertake,” said the impatient Archdeacon, “to bring one that should contrive seats to hold near six score, which is more than ever yet met at once.”[349]

Christmas festivities had scarcely ended, holly branches still hung in the parish churches, when the new Convocation met. The day before New Years’ Day, after a Latin service read by the Bishop of Oxford, a[288] Latin sermon preached by the Dean of St. Paul’s, and the King’s writ and the Bishop of London’s certificate formally delivered, “the Archbishop admonished the Clergy to retire into the chapel, at the west end of the church, where morning prayers are usually said, and there, under the conduct of the Dean of St. Paul’s, to choose a Prolocutor, and present him in Henry the VII.’s Chapel, on Tuesday, the 13th of January.”[350] No sooner had they met for that purpose, than the old embers of strife were kindled afresh, and blazed up furiously as before. The first contention pertained to proxy votes, the Dean of Canterbury contending they were valid, others answering they were quite contrary to custom, and indeed, that absent members were guilty of contumacy till their absence received judicial excuse, and therefore lay under a canonical impediment,[351] which for the time deprived them of their ecclesiastical power. The election of Prolocutor was the next struggle. Even such a candidate as Beveridge, decided Anglican as he was, could not satisfy the extreme party, and they elected, by a majority of 36 or 37 against 30, the Dean of Salisbury, Dr. Woodward, a civilian who had grown popular with High Churchmen by opposing his Diocesan. At that very moment, the two were engaged in litigation with each other; and, in addition to this circumstance, which rendered the election unseemly, the fact should be remembered that Woodward, now a sharp thorn in the sides of Burnet, owed to that Prelate his church preferment. The election over, the new Prolocutor approached the chair occupied by the Dean of St. Paul’s as temporary president whilst the votes were being taken; but the[289] Dean kept possession of his seat, on the ground that the Prolocutor could not preside when as yet there was no House. The Prolocutor being duly presented to the Archbishop, on the 13th of January he made a speech, bristling with military allusions.

After this, Archbishop Tenison, rock-like as ever, in a graceful tone, recommended charity and union, and lamented existing divisions; the only good effect of which, he said, was the impulse it had given to the study of historical questions, whereby light had fallen on Convocational rights, privileges, and customs. “The Prolocutor and Clergy were then ordered to withdraw to the consistory at the west end of the church.” Now reappeared the old bone of contention. A schedule of prorogation from the Archbishop reached the hands of the Prolocutor: “A paper,” he called it, “by which their Lordships had adjourned themselves;” a paper which he would not read to the House himself; a paper which he gave the actuary to read; a paper to which he added words of his own, substituting this place for Jerusalem Chamber—the gist of his treating the document thus, being that he would not admit the power of the Upper House to prorogue the meeting of the Lower. “Mr. Prolocutor,” said Archdeacon Beveridge, “I advise you, in the name of Jesus Christ, not to open our first meeting in such contempt and disobedience to the Archbishop and Bishops, and in giving such offence and scandal to our enemies.” “I have,” replied Woodward, “the power to alter the schedule when I intimate it.”[352] The battle for independence now reopened, the majority of the Lower House, headed by the defiant Prolocutor, resolving to fight it out to the last.

The Clergy, on the 20th of January, assembled early in the cold nave of the Abbey, after which they proceeded to prayers in the Jerusalem Chamber. Thence they returned to Henry the VII.’s Chapel, where they found the floor matted and curtains hung,—no small comfort on a frosty morning.[353] If their feet were as warm as their tempers, they had no reason to complain, for no sooner had they taken their places than it was proposed to have prayers over again by themselves, to show their independence. The motion was opposed. Debates followed. The Archbishop’s messenger waited at the door while the question of his being admitted was discussed. After “a little noise,” he came in with the hated schedule of prorogation. The Prolocutor took it up, and “playing with it in his hands, supposed it to be a paper about adjourning; and at last repeated the place and time, and putting it to the House for their pleasure, drew up a paper and read it.” This occurred on the 22nd of January. Upon the 28th, the Prolocutor again informed the members he had received a message of adjournment, but that he would not communicate it except by order of the House. Dr. Freeman maintained it ought to be delivered in obedience to the Archbishop. The Prolocutor tartly replied, he did not need to be taught what was his business; and Atterbury, starting up, accused Freeman of using indecent words.[354] Then came discussions about committees for purposes presented in the last Convocation. Further personalities arose. One made an offensive allusion, another felt annoyed. “Expressions were used,” it is said, “which might have laid the foundation of a misunderstanding or something worse,” but for subsequent[291] explanations. On the 28th, Atterbury—the spirit of the storm—rejoiced in his native element, as he proposed, and at last carried the point, that the Prolocutor should have inserted in the minutes a phrase which assumed the right of independent assembling. “This new and improper entry,” in Kennet’s judgment, “so thrust upon the minutes, was the great cause of widening the divisions in the Lower House.”[355]

Another source of discord was found in the quarrel between Burnet and Woodward the Prolocutor. Some members complained of a breach of privilege, and an indignity to Convocation offered to the Prolocutor by Burnet, his Diocesan, who was said to have required him to attend a visitation, while he was occupied with Convocational duties, and to have issued a process against him for non-compliance. Burnet was also charged by Woodward himself, with declaring that Convocation had no privileges which it could plead.[356]

On the 9th of February, Beveridge “made a long and pathetic speech upon the dispute at present depending between the two Houses.” “He earnestly exhorted both sides to union, and to think of such methods of healing the breach as might secure the Lower House’s liberty, and yet not entrench on the Archbishop’s authority.” He so influenced his brethren, that a committee was appointed to consider an expedient for composing the differences relative to prorogations.[357] But to this note of peace there speedily succeeded another outburst of war.

Never, perhaps, did Convocation pass through a more tumultuous day than Thursday, the 12th of February, ushered in though it was by a circumstance adapted to[292] calm the spirit of ever so excited an assembly. Between 9 and 10 o’clock, as the members of the Lower House were pacing up and down the nave of Westminster Abbey—not then crowded with monuments as it is now—waiting for the commencement of business, and eager to know what turn discussions were about to take, news came that Woodward, the Prolocutor, had been taken ill—very ill, and could not possibly attend to his duties. He must send a deputy, said his friends, and the deputy sent, turned out to be Aldrich, Dean of Christ Church, a man of like spirit with the Prolocutor himself. Upon proceeding to read prayers in the Lower House, this deputy was interrupted by a question, whether he ought to take the chair, without receiving the sanction of the Archbishop to his appointment. Kennet and Birch hastily departed to inform his Grace of what had been done; but on their way through the cloisters[358] to the yard, into which opened the principal door to the Jerusalem Chamber, they were stopped by another member, who proposed that they should return and wait until after prayers. They did so. As Aldrich, encouraged by Atterbury, ventured to take the chair, “a tumultuous noise” arose. Opposing members “persisted with vehemence in their demand, that the Dean of Christ Church should relinquish the chair.” They were “peremptory in their manner”—they came “prepared for a rupture,” says a nettled member on the other side.[359] In the midst of the disturbance, Wickart, Dean of Winchester, and Archdeacon Beveridge, removed the instrument of substitution from the table, and carried it to the Upper House, where they met with a gracious reception. After the two had ventured so far to take the matter into their own hands, the Lower House came[293] to a resolution formally to depute certain others to go and wait upon their Lordships; but these messengers, unlike their predecessors, were not admitted. Instead, an order was despatched for the whole House to attend. Accordingly they left Henry the VII.’s Chapel, the Dean of Christ Church at their head “in his square cap and a verger before him,”[360] and crowded up the steps to the Jerusalem Chamber, where, face to face with those whom they regarded as their enemies, they heard from the lips of the Archbishop a simple acknowledgment of a paper of consequence having been received, in allusion to their choice of a deputy, as “an incident of great moment;” and, besides, a formal announcement of prorogation until February the 14th. This Atterbury and his friends confessed to be “every way a surprise to them;” yet, nothing daunted, the Corypheus of the party—as the members were struggling through the small room, and the narrow passage which formed the only outlet from what was the Prelates’ audience-room—pushed them on, crying, “Away to the Lower House—to the Lower House.” In accordance with this boisterous suggestion, about forty-two members rushed towards the steps of Henry the VII.’s Chapel, and there, in defiance of archiepiscopal authority, placed their sub-prolocutor in the chair, intending by this method to constitute a House. Having, as they considered, thus saved their rights, they then formally adjourned to the same day as the Upper House had fixed. Woodward died on the 13th of February. The House now destitute of a Prolocutor—a body without a head—became organically incomplete, and therefore incapable of constitutional action. The first object of desire with the members struggling for independence,[294] was to supply the deficiency; but this was what the Archbishop and his friends in the Upper House were determined to prevent—being by this time tired out of all patience with their impracticable brethren. When, therefore, the Lower House, on the 14th, formally communicated intelligence of the death of Dr. Woodward, his Grace curtly expressed surprise at the news, and at once ordered a schedule of prorogation for the 19th, the day after Ash Wednesday. Tenison persevered in the policy of prorogation. On the 29th he told his brethren, in plain words, he meant to do so, assuring them, on the one hand, that they were mistaken who thought that he and the Bishops wished to bring Convocation into disuse; and remarking, on the other, that such heats as theirs had given great scandal to those who understood not the controversy, but were much concerned that there should be any differences among men, who were by profession ministers of the gospel of peace.

The party who sympathized with the Bishops felt satisfied; a great majority felt otherwise. They met of their own accord in Henry the VII.’s Chapel, and having chosen a Chairman or Moderator, marched up to the little old anteroom, which had become a sort of outpost for the episcopal garrison, where the invincible besiegers were ever pressing upon the trenches of the upper citadel. They were now met by the Bishop of Lincoln, whom they requested to convey a message to the other Bishops, expressing a desire to elect a Prolocutor. A new point of difference immediately arose. As amidst the confusion of the crowded apartments, some members began to dictate a message to the effect that the House wished to proceed to an election, Kennet interposed, saying he hoped the message would not be worded so, for they were not a House, and were unable to act as such; and, moreover,[295] some of the members, he being one, did not agree to the proposed message. The Bishop wrote down the communication as coming from certain members of the Lower House—a form of expression vehemently opposed by several of the listening and agitated group, and bringing down hot indignation upon him who had suggested it.

One death had already disabled the Lower House, another death suddenly and completely extinguished its paralyzed and convulsed existence.

William of Orange fell from his horse as he was riding in the neighbourhood of Hampton Court, and broke his collar-bone. Removed to Kensington, he was seized with shivering fits, and it soon appeared death was approaching. The Earl of Portland states, “that when he was once encouraging him, from the good state his affairs were in both home and abroad, to take more heart, the King answered him, that he knew death was that which he had looked at on all occasions without any terror; sometimes he would have been glad to have been delivered out of all his troubles, but he confessed now he saw another scene, and could wish to live a little longer. He died with a clear and full presence of mind, and in a wonderful tranquillity. Those who knew it was his rule all his life long to hide the impressions that religion made on him, as much as possible, did not wonder at his silence in his last minutes; but they lamented it much, they knew what a handle it would give to censure and obloquy.”[361] Early on Sunday, January the 8th, he received “the Holy Sacrament of the Eucharist, with great devotion, from the hands of the Archbishop of Canterbury”[362]—about 8 o’clock he was a corpse. Round his[296] neck a black ribbon was discovered with a gold ring, and a lock of Queen Mary’s hair.

The moral conduct of the King had not been in accordance with his religious professions. Burnet, who honestly gives his impressions of William’s character, says in a few words, “He had no vice but of one sort, in which he was very cautious and secret”—a statement which, whilst it presents a contrast to James and Charles, who were barefaced in their sensualities, admits the fact of William’s being addicted to vicious indulgence, of which concealment neither expiated nor diminished the guilt. It is not a little surprising that so many good men, both Churchmen and Dissenters, who could not have been indifferent to the interests of morality, should have lauded, as they did, the Hero of the Revolution, both living and dead, as if he had been the very ideal of virtue and piety. Yet Burnet, who was disposed to take the most favourable view of his character, cannot be charged with exaggeration when he informs us, that “he believed the truth of the Christian religion very firmly, and he expressed a horror at atheism and blasphemy, and though there was much of both in his Court, yet it was always denied to him, and kept out of his sight. He was most exemplary, decent, and devout in the public exercises of the worship of God—only on week days he came too seldom to them. He was an attentive hearer of sermons,[363] and was constant in his private prayers and in reading the Scriptures; and when he spoke of religious matters, which he did not often, it was with a becoming gravity. He was much[297] possessed with the belief of absolute decrees: he said to me, he adhered to these, because he did not see how the belief of Providence could be maintained upon any other supposition. His indifference as to the forms of Church government, and his being zealous for toleration, together with his cold behaviour towards the Clergy, gave them generally very ill impressions of him.”[364] The effect of frigid manners, felt by the nation at large, was deepened in the case of high Churchmen, by William’s well-known Presbyterian predilections, and his dislike to what is meant by Anglo-Catholicism. As we have seen, during the life of Mary, he left the exercise of his prerogative in reference to ecclesiastical matters in her hands, and after her death meddled with them in the smallest possible degree, so that he never could be said to have exerted any direct influence in the government of the Church.[365] But, indirectly, by the Revolution itself, and by the Act of Toleration which followed, and was promoted by him, he changed the position of the Establishment altogether, and opened up to the Episcopal Church a new career, in which conciliation instead of persecution could alone prove its permanent safeguard, and a secret of prosperity. The first monarch on the throne of these realms who loved a constitutional system of religious liberty, William not only won the affection of Dissenters, as he might be naturally expected to do, but by his wise and equitable policy in this respect, laid the whole kingdom and posterity under obligations which have never yet been fully acknowledged.

The most distinguished divines who sat upon the Episcopal Bench in the reign of William III., were more or less imbued with what were called Latitudinarian sentiments.

Tillotson and Tenison who did so much, especially the latter of them, by force of character, as well as prominence of position, towards keeping the Church in subordination to the State, have already occupied a considerable space in this History. Next to them, Burnet was most distinguished, and he also has received repeated notice as an ecclesiastical statesman; it should be added, that he was no less a diligent diocesan and a laborious divine. His treatise on Pastoral Care expresses the spiritual anxieties of a good minister of Jesus Christ: his Histories are pervaded by a spirit of Erastianism, as described by some; by a tone of liberality, as denoted by others; and his Exposition of the XXXIX Articles, in like manner, is both condemned as latitudinarian, and commended as comprehensive.

No work gives me so favourable an opinion of Burnet as his Four Discourses, delivered to the Clergy of the Diocese of Sarum.[366] For learning, earnestness, and ability, they deserve a higher place in theological literature[299] than they have ever won. In them he exhibits the evidences of the Christian religion with considerable vigour of thought, and for the age in which he wrote, with much originality. His dissertation on the Divinity and death of Christ exhibit the orthodox Creed, as to the Godhead and Atonement of the Lord, together with a view of Justification by Faith, very similar to that inculcated in the writings of Bull. The authority of the Church he discusses as an enlightened Protestant, and demolishes the arguments of the Papists; giving, as he proceeds, some valuable hints on the history of religious opinions, and dealing with the dogma of infallibility in a way which is singularly curious, looked at in the light of the recent Ecumenical Council. The obligation to continue in the communion of the Church of England is exhibited, from his own point of view, in a temperate spirit.

Stillingfleet accepted, in reward of his theological services, the See of Worcester in 1689. His reputation, connected with a friendly bearing towards Dissenters in the latter, as in the earlier period of his life, caused him to be engaged as referee in a doctrinal dispute, to be hereafter related; his polemical skill and unimpeachable orthodoxy were manifested afresh in his Vindication of the Trinity; he also entered into a metaphysical controversy with Locke, but to diocesan duties Stillingfleet devoted the remainder of his life. In his younger days he had been an eloquent preacher, generally dwelling upon the ethical more than the doctrinal side of religion; he nevertheless insisted upon theological points, following, in his views of salvation, Bull’s line of thought, as did Burnet, and others of the same school. There is an hortatory tone in his sermons, approaching in fervour to that of the Puritans, which, if not in harmony with the taste of the upper classes in the palmy days of Tillotson’s[300] popularity, must have commended Stillingfleet’s ministry to the hearts of common people. In his first Visitation Charge, in 1690, he says there is “an affected fineness of expression which by no means becomes the pulpit, but seems to be like stroking the consciences of people by feathers dipped in oil;” then, after speedily dismissing the subject of preaching, and condemning extempore sermons, he proceeds, at great length, to vindicate episcopal order, and to enforce the discharge of pastoral duties. These topics, with discussions relative to Ecclesiastical Courts, appear prominently in his episcopal charges. And his attempts to enforce discipline, his zeal for the Reformation and authority of Church tribunals, his enforcement of residence on the Canons of his Cathedral, his protection of the poor, and his care about the application of charitable funds, are the chief grounds on which Stillingfleet’s episcopal career is eulogized by his admiring biographer. It strikes me as unsafe to judge of him simply by what that writer has advanced. Another and more spiritual aspect of his character, suggested by his sermons and other productions, is left untouched in those unsatisfactory memoirs.[367]

Patrick, made Bishop of Chichester in 1689, and of Ely in 1691, was a man of inferior ability to Stillingfleet, but of greater learning, perhaps of higher spiritual mark. Ranked amongst Latitudinarians through his early connection with John Smith and Henry More, he caught and infused into some of his writings a Platonic tincture;[301] but as to the philosophical spirit of inquiry, cultivated in the Cambridge school, he was a perfect alien. He agreed, with the least moderate of the class, in a dislike to Puritanism, and went beyond them all in dogmatic emphasis and Anglican leanings. He distinguished between traditions to be rejected and traditions to be received—including amongst the latter, not only primitive testimony as to the transmission of Scripture, and the settlement of the Canon, but as to the doctrines of the Faith, and the polity of the Church. He insisted upon the efficacy of baptism as producing regeneration, and held that ordinance to be necessary for the salvation of infants.[368] As to the Lord’s Supper, he dwelt little upon its nature, but much upon its benefits, and the duty of frequent communion. His published sermons are not specimens of his general preaching, for they were mostly delivered on political and other public occasions. Some posthumous discourses on contentment, and resignation to the will of God, have been preserved, through accidental circumstances, not on account of any superior excellence.[369]

He wrote, besides his Paraphrases and works against Popery, a number of practical and devout books; amongst them the Parable of the Pilgrim, which might be read with more satisfaction, did it not provoke humiliating comparisons with Bunyan’s Allegory. The reputation Patrick enjoyed in his own day for devout composition, suffers greatly when, in the light of modern taste and criticism, we examine the forms which he prepared for the revised Prayer Book, contemplated in 1680; but I know of nothing to invalidate the manner in which his conduct as a Bishop is eulogized. He early appeared as[302] a champion of the Church of England against Dissent, by publishing what he called a Friendly Debate,—in point of fact, a most unfriendly production, full of virulent attacks upon those who separated from the established communion, and even advocating coercion in the service of Uniformity.[370] The book appeared anonymously in 1668; fifteen years afterwards, notwithstanding the damaging circumstance that it had been condemned by Matthew Hale, and praised by Gilbert Sheldon and Samuel Parker, the author stated his continued opinion that the discourse was “useful and reasonable.”[371] It may be hoped Patrick repented of what he had done, for he expressed in the House of Lords “regret for the warmth with which he had written against the Dissenters in his younger years;” and Wharton said of him, “After he was made a Bishop, he lost his reputation through imprudent management, openly favouring the Dissenters, and employing none but such, whereupon he lost the love of the gentry.”[372] However, there is evidence, that towards the Baptist denomination, at least, he continued to manifest a most unfriendly spirit.

After the Revolution, he expressed concern at finding so little of unity and concord, when it was natural to expect they would have been the result of that deliverance. He seems to have become weary of the world before he left it, and cried out with the Psalmist, “O that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away and be at rest.” Stillingfleet wrote his Irenicum in 1660, and twenty years after the Mischief of Separation. Patrick advocated intolerance in 1683; and twenty years afterwards, though still retaining some of the old leaven, uttered words of charity and healing.

To the class of Cambridge theologians probably belongs John Moore, consecrated Bishop of Norwich in 1691, who is described as enjoying Burnet’s confidence, and as being consulted by him in the composition of his works. But Moore was one of a considerable number who gain a reputation among friends for ability to do what they never accomplish; since, according to one of his eulogists, “the world had reason to expect from him many excellent and useful works,” had not episcopal duties prevented their being composed. He was also one of a still greater number in whom the love of books weakens regard for the rights of property; for according to a critic less friendly to his reputation, Moore indulged an “avarice in that respect,” which “carried him a step beyond the sin of coveting.” His library numbered 30,000 volumes, and was bought, after his death, by George I., as a present to the University of Cambridge.[373]

Cumberland, made Bishop of Peterborough in 1691,[304] wrote in reply to Hobbes, a Latin treatise, On the Laws of Nature, mentioned in a former volume, and of him his great grandson Richard says, “He had no pretension to quick and brilliant talents; but his mind was fitted for elaborate and profound researches, as his works more fully testify.”[374] He is known to posterity, and that with faded light, simply as a philosopher of the Cambridge stamp, and has left no proofs of pre-eminence in episcopal efficiency; but we may conclude that he was devoted to his office from the anecdote, that, when in his old age his friends recommended retirement and rest, he said, “I will do my duty as long as I can; I had better wear out than rust out.”[375]

Something similar may be said of Fowler, an active opponent of James’ Declaration, promoted to the See of Gloucester in 1690, whose exposition of Latitudinarian theology has been described in the Church of the Restoration. His broad views of Christianity, and his opposition to Popery, recommended him to a Bishopric. He is spoken of as a very respectable, but not very eminent, Prelate; and what is curious in connection with his rationalism, he was credited with a faith in the existence of witches and fairies, “whom he dreaded as much as the lady upon the seven hills, and all the scarlet train.”[376]

Kidder, Bishop of Bath and Wells, had, before he wore a mitre, passed through circumstances which must have left a deep impress upon his character, and were[305] calculated to impart moderation to his episcopal proceedings. He, in 1662, was deprived of his living for not subscribing to the Prayer-Book, before he could examine it. Approving of it after examination, he pursued a chequered career, struggling with poverty, but exhibiting generous dispositions; suffering during the plague year, but persevering in his spiritual duties; vexed by Nonconformists in his parish, yet administering the Lord’s Supper to those who refused to kneel. His autobiography, besides sketching these circumstances, relates what he did in the way of Visitations, Confirmations, and Ordinations, and how he was troubled by the conduct of some of his Clergy, by the behaviour of a physician who courted his daughter, and by a faction in his diocese who opposed his ordination of one who had been a Nonconformist.

Kidder paid half his income from the See of Bath and Wells into the hands of ex-Bishop Ken; and another circumstance is related respecting him, which places his integrity in a conspicuous light. A message was sent him by a minister of King William, telling him he MUST give his vote in Parliament in a certain way. “Must vote!” “Yes, must vote: consider whose bread you eat.” “I eat no man’s bread but poor Dr. Ken’s; and if he will take the oaths, he shall have it again. I did not think of going to the Parliament, but now I shall undoubtedly go, and vote contrary to your commands.”[377] The autobiography suggests the idea that Kidder was a well-meaning man, sometimes wanting in firmness and wisdom. His publications, which are numerous, include—besides his Boyle Lecture—Tracts against Popery, and Plain Treatises enforcing the practice of a religious life.[306] The only sermon of his which I have read, one preached at Court on the duty of fasting, suggests no high opinion of his pulpit power.

Amongst the Episcopal Divines of William’s reign, only one can be considered as a decided Puritan. This was John Hall, Master of Pembroke, Oxford, who retained that position after he became Bishop of Bristol in 1691,—a poor piece of preferment. He is far less noticeable as a Bishop than as a Theological Professor, in which capacity, however, he earned no enviable fame, even in the estimation of those who sympathized with him in his theological opinions; for Calamy says, that he brought all the theology of the Westminster Assembly out of the Church Catechism. He was a good man, laughed at by the wits, but esteemed for his godliness by pious people.

Nicholas Stratford—possessed of learning, a firm supporter of the Church of England, and, judging of him by his primary visitation charge, an earnest preacher and a faithful pastor, bent on the salvation of souls—succeeded Cartwright in the Bishopric of Chester, in 1689; and in the same year, John Hough, the Champion of Magdalen, rose to the episcopal chair of Oxford.[378]

An Archiepiscopal mitre rewarded, at the suggestion of Tillotson in 1691, the staunch Protestantism of Dr. Sharpe, the Dean of Norwich; and, if we are to believe all the encomiums on his virtues, inscribed upon his monument in York Cathedral, scarcely ever before did such a paragon of excellence exist.[379] Notices of him by Thoresby—to whose conversion from Dissent to Episcopacy,[307] Sharpe had largely contributed—so far confirm the praise in his epitaph, as to show that he was diligent, courteous, devout, and kind, and most zealous in endeavouring to win Nonconformists over to the Church. He is described as the best of the Bishops who had honoured Leeds with their presence, “a most excellent preacher, universally beloved.”[380] Samuel Wesley, who was under great obligations to him, ranked him as a preacher above Stillingfleet, and even above Tillotson, calling him “a more popular pulpit orator than either;”[381] but a set-off against these partial commendations will appear, when we reach the history of Religious Societies and of Dissenting Academies, and observe the course which his Grace pursued in relation to them.

Lloyd, Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry until 1699, when, on the death of Stillingfleet, the King translated him to Worcester, is described by Whiston, who received ordination at his hands, as engaging in “a most uncommon, but vastly improving examination and instruction, in the Cathedral, beforehand.”[382] Lloyd’s prophetical studies, vindicated by Whiston, exposed him to a good deal of raillery and satire; Shippen, in his Faction Displayed, saying of him—

As with other students in the same school, his studies proved labour lost, for Dr. Johnson relates, that “his writings supplied the kitchen of his successor with fuel for many years;” but his character defied detraction, and whilst revered for his virtues, that reverence was increased by his “learning and longevity.”[383]

Politics, rather than Divinity, recommended men as Bishops under William III. They were constitutional Whigs sympathizing in the objects and promoting the interests of the Revolution. The anti-Papal zeal, and the readiness of most of them to conciliate Nonconformists, gave them favour in the eyes of both King and Queen; nor should we overlook the influence of Tillotson and Burnet, the great ecclesiastical apostles of the period, in the advancement of these brethren. Sharpe’s promotion was owing to the former, probably Moore’s was owing to the latter.

In point of personal character the new Prelates will bear comparison with their predecessors. Kidder indeed never enjoyed the reputation for sanctity possessed by Ken. Tillotson, Tenison, Burnet, Stillingfleet, Patrick, Cumberland, and Fowler, were in mental power superior to Sancroft, Thomas, Lake, White, and Frampton; and as to personal religion, which admits not of precise judgment, there is no evidence that they were inferior. Stratford might easily surpass the disreputable Cartwright; the name of Hough is as illustrious as the name of Samuel Parker is disgraceful, and the name of Timothy Hall obscure. In political bias, ecclesiastical feeling, and theological opinion, the new Prelates differed from their predecessors, and must therefore have imported into their dioceses some new methods of procedure.[384]

Another class of Bishops consisted of men who appear in history as political celebrities.

Compton, Bishop of London, is familiar to the reader as an active revolutionist, a man of disappointed ambition, and a friend to the High Church party in Convocation. Having nothing to do with the Court after Queen Mary’s death, he steps out of historical notice for a while, spending his time in the quiet discharge of episcopal functions, and relieving himself in hours of leisure, amidst the flowers and shrubs of his beautiful garden at Fulham, with botanical studies, which brought him into scientific correspondence with Ray, Petiver, and Plunkenet. Other letters of his indicate the active and zealous part he took in electioneering affairs, seeking to promote the return of Church candidates;[385] and a charge he delivered soon after the Revolution, deals largely in warnings against heresy and schism, Popery and Dissent—with a few milder words at the end relative to a kind treatment of loving brethren, if “found humble and of a quiet spirit.”[386] Burnet speaks of Compton as “a generous[310] and good-natured man, but easy and weak, and much in the power of others,”[387]—an estimate of his character, copied by Birch and repeated since; but as to Compton’s imputed weakness, it is right to remember that Burnet, after his right reverend brother’s alliance with the High Church party, cannot be regarded as an impartial witness. The fragment of a Greek inscription upon Compton’s tombstone at Fulham, if placed there by his request, would indicate a devout appreciation of the redemptive nature of the Gospel, for the letters which remain are part of the Apostle’s memorable words, “God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

The tergiversations of Trelawny, successively Bishop of Bristol and Exeter, modify the traditionary laudation of his courage and alacrity, magnanimity and address, in defence of the just rights and privileges of the Church; yet I am not aware of anything which contradicts the statement, that “he was friendly and open, generous and charitable, a good companion, and a good man.”[388] Atterbury seems to have greatly admired him, and in the dedication of his own sermons to the Prelate, he delicately praises him for manifold virtues. The virtue of loyalty to the existing Government he certainly did not possess.[389]

Of the politics of Sprat, Bishop of Rochester, I have spoken before. It will suffice to notice him now as a preacher. His style of composition secured the applause of contemporaries, and Dunton, in one of his extravagant flights, eulogized the Bishop by saying—

Respecting his oratory, an amusing anecdote is related by Dr. Johnson. Burnet and Sprat were rivals. “On some public occasion they both preached before the House of Commons. There prevailed in those days an indecent custom; when the preacher touched any favourite topic in a manner that delighted his audience, their approbation was expressed by a loud hum, continued in proportion to their zeal or pleasure. When Burnet preached, part of his congregation hummed so loudly and so long, that he sat down to enjoy it, and rubbed his face with his handkerchief. When Sprat preached, he likewise was honoured with the like animating hum; but he stretched out his hand to the congregation and cried, ‘Peace, peace, I pray you peace.’”[391]

Let the story pass for what it is worth. Both Burnet and Sprat were men of power; both had at command a flowing and, when they pleased, a rhetorical style; and both delivered sermons marked by superior instruction and fervent appeal. Each attended to the method of delivery, as well as to the substance of thought, a matter to which Sprat devotes considerable space in an episcopal charge. After urging the Clergy to set forth the public prayers to “due advantage, by pronouncing them leisurely, fitly, warmly, decently,” he tells them to utter their discourses “in a natural, comely, modest, yet undaunted force of pronunciation;” but he reprobates extempore preaching, no less than extempore prayer.[392]

Nathaniel Crew, Bishop of Durham, fifth son of the first Lord who bore that name, succeeded upon the death of his last surviving brother to the family estate and the title, and therefore was entitled to a seat in Parliament both as Prelate and Baron. Committed to the worst policy of James, and for a time excepted from pardon by William, he narrowly secured his See by taking the oath of allegiance at the last moment, and was scarcely admitted to Court during the reign of the last-named Monarch. Handsome features, imposing presence, winning manners, and princely munificence—although commending him to the affection of friends and the gratitude of dependants—could not redeem his character from the consequences incurred by his political conduct, or render him either a strong or an ornamental pillar of the English Church.

I pass over Bishops altogether obscure,[393] to notice one who attained an unenviable notoriety. This was Thomas Watson, Bishop of St. David’s, who experienced the singular fate of being proceeded against in the Court of Arches, when he received a sentence of deprivation. He was convicted of applying to his own use offerings given at ordinations; receiving what had been bestowed on servants as gratuities; not administering oaths required by law; ordaining at other times than the Sundays next[313] Ember weeks; conferring orders on a candidate below the canonical age; exacting illegal fees; and demanding excessive procurations. There must have been at the bottom of these proceedings much more than appears on the surface. He is reported to have been coarse and violent in his language and conduct, and to have thereby exposed himself to popular odium; but these were not the things for which he was tried, nor was he formally accused of Popish opinions, though, in public estimation, he stood suspected of Romanist sympathies. He had been made a Bishop by James II., whose policy he approved, and this circumstance seems to have had much to do with the issue of his trial. He appealed to the House of Lords against the sentence of the spiritual court, but the sentence was confirmed. The case made much noise at the time, and excited a good deal of controversy. In a Review[394] of it published by a friendly hand, the charges brought against him are pronounced to be false, the veracity of the witnesses is impugned, and the whole process is described as a conspiracy carried on by “subordination,” and inspired by “political motives and inducements of pique and revenge.” The writer intends to suggest the animus of Watson’s prosecutors, by stating that he was asked what Papists and Nonjurors came to his house, and whether he had not drunk the health of King James; and I also find one deponent declaring that, in the oath of allegiance administered by the Bishop at an ordination, neither William nor Mary were mentioned by name. I cannot but think that political feeling[314] prompted the prosecution; yet, if we look at the characters of such men as Tenison, Patrick, and others, who united in his condemnation, we must suppose that he had been guilty of great irregularities in his episcopal office.[395]

There were to be found distinguished clergymen occupying parochial cures—clergymen eminent for learning, godliness, and zeal, amidst the bustle of a London life. Some were Anglican. William Beveridge, Rector of St. Peter’s, Cornhill, united with a profound reverence for antiquity, an attachment to doctrinal truths dear to Puritans. He insisted upon Episcopacy, Sacraments, the observance of Lent, and fellowship with the Church of England, and he did this often in a narrow, hard, exclusive spirit; yet he sometimes preached sermons such as would be admired by modern Evangelicals.[396] Those published in six octavo volumes, were regarded at the time as forming a valuable theological library. They exhibit no closeness of reasoning or sagacity of remark, no command of illustration, or felicity of style, yet they are sensible, unaffected, and somewhat forcible, from the manifest sincerity and earnestness of the author. Beveridge’s Thoughts on Religion are perhaps the most edifying, certainly the best known of his works, though they were written when he was a young man; but as to terseness of expression—not as to breadth of thought—he appears, in my judgment, to more advantage in his Ecclesia Anglicana, Ecclesia[315] Catholica, a posthumous work on the Articles. In the exposition of the XI. Article, on Justification, he decidedly follows the Puritan lead, saying, “It is not by the inhesion of grace in us, but by the imputation of righteousness to us, that we are justified; as it is not by the imputation of righteousness to us, but by the inhesion of grace in us, that we are sanctified.” As to the XVII. Article, on Predestination, he is cautious, and his quotations would not satisfy, but they do not condemn, Calvinistic Divines.

Down in the pleasant county of Gloucester, at the Rectory of Avening, George Bull—besides his literary labours, which before the end of the century won for him such high renown, that he was complimented by Bossuet—showed himself to be indefatigable in discharging pastoral duties, putting down country revels, and otherwise aiming at the improvement of his parishioners.

In Wiltshire, John Norris, an English disciple of Malbranche, held the living of Bemerton; and, while he practised the quiet virtues of the parish priest, he selected for the pulpit, subjects of a moral and spiritual nature, rather than the more distinctive truths connected with our redemption by Christ; not but that there is a tone in Norris’s teaching in unison with habits of thought cultivated by modern Evangelicals.[397] His published discourses, for the most part, are plain and practical; yet sometimes his handling of topics is such as to make his readers think that he shot over the heads of the Wiltshire farmers and peasantry. In Suffolk, William Burkett, Rector of Milden, added to his ministerial excellence, large-hearted efforts for the French refugees, and for[316] preaching the Gospel in America. He secured a long reputation by his Expository Notes on the New Testament, which strongly reflect the opinions of others, and whilst decidedly Arminian, are more practical than critical. Of a well-known Kentish clergyman, Stanhope, Vicar of Lewisham, in no sense a party man, Evelyn remarks: “He is one of the most accomplished preachers I ever heard, for matter, eloquence, action, and voice.”[398]

In closing this list of distinguished clergymen, I would refer to two men known as ecclesiastical archæologists, rather than as preachers and pastors. John Strype, Incumbent of Low Leyton, in Essex, then between fifty and sixty years of age, was just beginning that career as a biographer and historian, which he prolonged for so many years afterwards, and for which he had so laboriously amassed materials during the previous portion of his life. His memoirs of Cranmer, Smith, and Aylmer, which issued from the press under William III., and the large correspondence of the author at the time, preserved in the University Library at Cambridge, indicate, in connection with his diligence of research, his busy care respecting ecclesiastical affairs. Working hard upon black-letter books and hardly decipherable MSS., he was ready as a rural Dean, at the call of his Diocesan, to arrange for clerical meetings, or to preach visitation sermons.[399] Henry Wharton at the same time, though a young man, was closing his course as a laborious editor and critic, in fact, a martyr to excessive[317] study; and, in turning over the Strype Correspondence, I was much touched by the following passage, in a letter written to Strype by one of Wharton’s friends, in reference to a visit paid him at Canterbury:—“One day he opened his trunk and drawers, and showed me his great collections concerning the state of our Church, and with a deep sigh told me that all his labours were at an end, and that his strength would not permit him to finish any more of the subject.”[400]

One clergyman claims separate notice as a foreigner, a poor pluralist, and an exceedingly popular preacher. Dr. Horneck, a native of Bacharach—so familiar to all Rhine tourists—held, in conjunction with a stall at Exeter worth only twenty pounds a year, the preachership of the Savoy, which afforded but a miserable income. His poverty ended three years before his death, when, through the united kindness of Queen Mary and Archbishop Tillotson, he was made Prebendary of Westminster. But from first to last his ministry was exceedingly popular; it was no easy matter for him to get through the crowd to his pulpit. So great was the number of communicants at his church, that he had to seek the help of clergymen in the delivery of the bread and wine, “and with such assistance it was very late before the congregation could be dismissed.”[401] His virtues are extolled in the epitaph inscribed on his monument in the Abbey.

Leaving men of honourable renown, in order to throw in truthful shadows amidst grateful lights, I will mention a case of their fanaticism. It appears in the life of John Mason, Rector of Walter Stratford, in Buckinghamshire.[402][318] Holding Predestinarian opinions to such an extent as to acknowledge no other difference between Judas and St. Peter than what proceeded from absolute decrees and irresistible grace; and further believing that it was all one whether a man kept the commandments or broke them, inasmuch as Christ observed the whole law on behalf of His people; this strange mortal, who had drunk the dregs of Antinomianism, added to his absurd caricatures of Calvinism, other ideas equally extravagant respecting the personal reign of Christ—a reign which he expected would instantly be set up. So far as extreme Predestinarianism and Millenarianism are concerned, he may be taken as typical of a small section of religious teachers living then, not entirely extinct even now; but he proceeded to the excess of regarding himself as a favoured recipient of celestial visions. Not long before his death, he fancied he saw Christ clothed in a crimson garment, His countenance exceedingly beautiful, with an abundance of sweetness and great majesty. Relatives indignantly denied a charitable report that he was mad, and did not doubt he would prove the prophet of the age—a Noah to warn the world, a John the Baptist to herald in the Messiah, an Elijah sent before the just and terrible day. Beyond his own circle, belief in his predictions spread, until nigh a hundred followers from the country ten miles round came to the rectory, and took up their abode within and around it, waiting for a revelation, which it was said came on the 16th of April, 1694, in the manner described. “When I entered the house,” relates one who wrote an account of his visit, “a more melancholy scene of a spiritual Bedlam presented itself. Men, women, and children running up and[319] down, onewhile stretching their arms upwards to catch their Saviour coming down, others extending them forward to meet His embraces; a third, with a sudden turn, pretends to grasp Him; and a fourth clapping their hands for joy they had Him; with several other antic postures, which made me think that Bedlam itself was but a faint image of their spiritual frenzies. All this while they were singing as loud as their throats would give them leave, till they were quite spent and looked black in the face.”[403] Fanaticism, more insane than ever possessed any of the Roundhead preachers in Oliver Cromwell’s camp, thus raged in the person of an episcopal clergyman under William III. Country folks crowded about his house, his barn, and his garden; hundreds more are said to have venerated his character and believed in his prophecies. The story affords an instance of the wild enthusiasm which it is in the power of extravagant visionaries to excite, even in an age commonly considered as rationalistic and cold.[404]

It is very remarkable, in casting one’s eye over these sketches, to notice the absence of the old Puritan party. Hall, of Oxford, as already noticed, was the only Divine of that class on the Bishops’ Bench; and amongst names[320] of repute belonging to the rest of the Clergy, not one of the same kind can be produced. I do not deny that there may be clerical publications of the period marked by Puritan divinity; I only say that the celebrated authors were of another description.

Vigorous and commanding Puritanic thought, such as moved the religious intellect of England a generation or two earlier, for a time quite died out in the Establishment. Low Churchmanship had been of the Puritan type. Montague, Laud, and the like, found their opponents in Calvinistic clergymen. Now Low Churchmanship took what some would call a rationalistic form; at any rate its advocates were inspired by a philosophical theology, rather than by the institutes of Calvin, or the genius of Geneva. Sancroft and Hicks found their opposites in Tillotson and Burnet. The Act of Uniformity had clearly done its work, and shut or kept out teachers akin to Calamy and Marshall. Their theological spirit, their distinctive evangelical teaching, disappears, so far as the Established Church is concerned, like the stream of Arethusa, and flows underground for a considerable space, to burst out once more in a strong current, a century afterwards.

Attempts were not wanting on the part of some of the Bishops to maintain ecclesiastical discipline. There are papers amongst the Tanner MSS. which indicate what went on amidst the throes of the Revolution, in the diocese of Norwich, before the ejectment of Bishop Lloyd. John Gibbs, Rector of Gissing, had been a convert to the Church of Rome; but on the 14th of November, nine days after the landing of the Prince of Orange, when Protestant East Anglicans would be exulting at the advent of the Deliverer, this recusant is referred to as wishing to be reconciled with the Church of his fathers; and a report is given of the sermon which he preached on the occasion.[405] A little while afterwards an instance occurs of clerical immorality, and of that kind of trouble which has often disturbed episcopal peace: a Norwich rector was accused of “lewdness,” amounting to a capital crime.

The case was undoubted. It came to the Bishop’s knowledge. To conceal the fact would have been to connive at the sin, to make it known to endanger the culprit’s life. Indeed, to conceal it was no longer possible, and to stifle the charge was felt to be a scandal to religion. Under these circumstances, Lloyd, Bishop of[322] Norwich, asked the Archbishop whether, by a judicial monition, he might not require the offender to abstain from clerical functions till he could purge himself from the terrible accusation brought against him.

The Canon law, he said, did not deal with the offence in question, and he felt himself in much difficulty as to the course of proceeding. As capital punishment might follow conviction, the Bishop feared lest it should prove a causa sanguinis—an affair with which he wished to have nothing to do. The common tactics of defence were adopted by the accused. He appealed to the Archdeacon, with the view of gaining time, and by such means he cunningly slipped entirely out of the hands of the Consistory at Norwich; but the Bishop comforted himself by hoping that the criminal would meet with justice at Doctors’ Commons.

On the 30th of August, 1689, when Lloyd had been himself suspended, he wrote to Sancroft, saying, “It is too late for me now to meddle further in the matter.”[406]

After the Revolution, we meet with a case in which moral discipline was exercised by Patrick, Bishop of Ely. The Incumbent of Great Eversden had, by intemperance, drowned his reason and scandalized his profession. Grieved at what he heard, the Bishop required him to preach two penitential sermons, one in each of the churches where he officiated, from the words, “He that covereth his sins shall not prosper; but whoso confesseth and forsaketh them shall have mercy.” He did so, and concluded with the words: “You see, beloved, what a black indictment I have here drawn up against myself, wherein I have not been favourable or partial to my fatal miscarriages, but have dissected and ripped up my many[323] enormous crimes, and exposed them to public view. I beseech you not to be too censorious and uncharitable, since I have passed so severe a censure upon myself.”[407]

A passing remark is required touching the manner of worship. Nothing like what is now called Ritualism had then any existence. Things continued much as they were before. No coloured vestments were worn by Anglicans either within or without the Establishment, nor were there any attempts at extraordinary ornamentation of either altars or churches. Æsthetic culture, apart from distinctive ecclesiastical opinions, may powerfully affect psalmody, and other accompaniments of devotion, as well as the structure and adornment of the House of God; but the reign of William was not at all an age in which such culture prevailed. Some religious people have a keen sense of propriety as to outward observances; others have none. It matters not to them, though the adoration of the High and Lofty One be marked by slovenliness of arrangement and irreverence of behaviour. There were many persons of this kind amongst Clergy and laity during the last ten, as there had been during the previous fifty years of the seventeenth century.

The use of the surplice in the pulpit, now a common practice with almost all sections in the Established Church, was within our own recollection very rare, and when first prominently introduced, produced excitement and confusion. It seems to have been a novelty in the reign of William III. “Yesterday,” says the writer of a letter in 1696, “I saw in Low Leighton Church, that which to my remembrance I never did see in a church in England but once, and that is a minister preach in a surplice for Mr. Harrison (whereas other ministers on Fast-days do[324] not so much as wear any surplice), he, by way of supererogation, preached in his. The sight did stir up in me more of pity than anger to see the folly of the man; but if he preach in a fool’s coat we will go and hear him.”[408]

Low Leighton (or Leyton), it will be remembered, was the parish in which John Strype fulfilled his ministry, and therefore it was in the pulpit of that distinguished ecclesiologist, that the writer of the extract beheld the phenomenon which startled him out of his propriety; if the surplice was worn by the Incumbent, or with his sanction, the circumstance would indicate that he regarded the usage as canonical, however it might have fallen into abeyance.

Amongst the Lambeth archives is a very long letter by Edmund Bowerman, Vicar of Codrington, who gives a curious account of his parish, of the extreme ignorance and irreligion of the people, and of their desecration of the church. They played cards on the communion-table, and when they met to choose churchwardens, sat with their hats on, smoking and drinking—the clerk gravely saying, with a pipe in his mouth, that such had been the practice for the last sixty years. Not ten persons in the place had ever received the Sacrament; one used to take it by himself in brown bread and small beer.[409]

An important change took place in the psalmody of the Church of England. The archaic version of the Psalms, by Sternhold and Hopkins, kept possession in cathedral and parish congregations until the middle of the reign of William III. Attempts had been made at improving the versification. A Century of Select Psalms, in verse, for the use of the Charterhouse, by Dr. Patrick, appeared in 1679. Richard Goodridge followed him by a[325] similar effort in 1682. Dr. Simon Ford, not to mention others, attempted something of the same kind in 1688. But a more successful enterprise was accomplished by Nicholas Brady and Nahum Tate, who, in 1695, published a tentative Essay, and in 1696 a Complete New Version, differing from such as they themselves had previously prepared. This version, afterwards so popular, did not escape criticism; but was most determinately opposed by Dr. Beveridge, who preferred the old rhymes of the Reformation to any modern rendering of the Songs of David. His course of argument, if it had any force, would be fatal to any attempt at improving scripture translations of all kinds.[410]

The character of the Clergy at that time has been drawn by different hands. Samuel Wesley, in the Athenian Oracle, said, that out of fifty or threescore parishes with which he was acquainted, he could not think of above three or four clergymen who disgraced their office.

The Nonjurors represented their brethren in the Establishment as newsmongers and busy-bodies, guilty of non-residence, faulty in their morals, and negligent of their duties. Some were often seen frequenting ale-houses and taverns, where they behaved disorderly. The communion in the London parish churches, before largely attended, was, according to the same authority, unfrequented; and in cathedral churches things were worse, so that the alms collected did little more than pay for the bread and wine.[411]

Nonjurors looked through a prejudiced medium at those who took the oaths. They regarded most of them as indifferent to a matter of immense importance, and[326] not a few as deliberately dishonest, swearing to that which they did not believe. The amount of false swearing at that period must have been prodigious; and the fact could not fail to produce mischievous results—it demoralized such as indulged in it, and impressed people with an idea of the falseness of their instructors. Men looking at the subject from another point of the compass, also came to an unfavourable conclusion. Whiston declared how well he remembered that by far the greater part of University members and clergymen took the oaths with a doubtful, if not an accusing, conscience. Considering the doctrines of passive obedience and non-resistance in which they had been educated, he thought it could not be otherwise; and he scarcely knew who were the worst, some who imposed or some who submitted to the new law of allegiance.[412]

As the Nonjurors judged of ministers through the medium of the oath question, so Whiston, who rejected the Athanasian Creed, judged of ministers through the medium of that formulary. No doubt he was prejudiced, and his conclusions were exaggerated; but it is hard to understand how men of latitudinarian views could, with thorough honesty, repeat an intensely orthodox formulary imbued with an intensely exclusive spirit. What Whiston says of a rather later period, may be applied here. Conversing with Lord Chief Justice King, about signing articles not believed, in order to secure preferment, he heard his Lordship observe, “We must not lose our usefulness for scruples.” “In your Courts do they allow of such prevarication?” asked the Presbyter. “Certainly not,” rejoined the lawyer. “Suppose then,” returned Whiston, “God Almighty should be as just in the next[327] world as my Lord Chief Justice is in this, where are we then?”[413] Whiston’s estimate of some of the Clergy is corroborated by Burnet, who mourns over the inconsistency of men described as practically contradicting the oaths they had taken and the prayers they preferred.[414]

De Foe acknowledged that there were in England a great many religious persons, both among the gentry and Clergy; but he remarked upon the inconsistency of many in both classes. “The parson preaches a thundering sermon against drunkenness, and the justice of peace sets my poor neighbour in the stocks; and I am like to be much the better for either, when I know, perhaps, that this same parson and this same justice were both drunk together but the night before. A vicious parson that preaches well, but lives ill, may be likened to an unskilful horseman, who opens a gate on the wrong side, and lets other folks through, but shuts himself out.”[415] In judging of the Clergy of those days, we must take into account indirect evidence. The Convocation controversy, degenerating into a contemptible feud between class and class, or into a despicable squabble between clergyman and clergyman, proved the extensive existence of prejudice, obstinacy, and resentment, and must have drawn off the minds of many from the discharge of their proper duties. Neither was the method of conducting controversy on more important points—the doctrine of the Trinity, for example—at all calculated to preserve ministers of religion from injurious habits; for the temper shown in books and tracts on this subject is most irreverent, most conceited, most uncharitable, most unchristian.

It should also be noticed, that after religious freedom[328] to some extent had been legalized by the Toleration Act, a clerical reaction violently set in. Low Churchmen had been the principal advocates for granting liberty of worship to their Nonconforming brethren; but beyond their circle were some who, during appearances of Popery under James II., had looked with sympathy upon fellow Protestants outside their own pale, and had afterwards hailed them with a kindly welcome to the enjoyment of their rights. When the no-Popery tempest subsided, and when political fears, raised by Royal despotism, passed away, some of these persons relapsed into their previous state, and together with those who had been bigoted throughout, looked at Nonconformists with bitterness and hatred.[416] A wide current of intolerant feeling returned, of which the result became visible enough after the accession of Queen Anne.

Turning from the character of the Clergy to notice their circumstances, we meet with an interesting picture of domestic life in the case of the father of the Wesleys. He was a rector upon £50 a year at South Ormsby, a little village in Lincolnshire, skirting the parks and woodlands of a goodly mansion. We find the same clergyman shortly afterwards established in the same county at the Rectory of Epworth, described, in a survey of the period, as consisting of “five bays built all of timber and plaister, and covered with straw thatch, the whole building being contrived into three stories, and disposed into seven chief rooms, namely—a kitchen, a hall, a parlour, a buttery, and three large upper rooms, besides some others of[329] common use, and also a little garden impaled between the stone wall and the south.”[417] This minute description brings before us a humble, but pleasant parsonage of the end of the seventeenth century; and it is added that to the dwelling stood attached one barn of six bays, likewise built of clay and thatch; also one dovecote of timber and plaister, and one hempkiln. The glebe was stocked. Cows fed in the meadows, and pigs in the stye. A nag and two fillies occupied the stable, and flax and barley waved in the fields. The parishioners were, according to Wesley’s daughter, “unpolished wights,” “dull as asses,” and with heads “impervious as stones.” The clerical dress, the rustic manner, and the lowly employments of the Rector, are portrayed by another member of the gifted family:

The outlay upon taking the new living amounted to £50—just one-fourth of the annual income of the living. It was a practice for parish officers to compel people to lighten parochial burdens by taking, as apprentices, the children of paupers; and one of these unfortunates was actually palmed on the Epworth Incumbent, who said he supposed he must teach the boy “to beat rhyme.” These items are worth mentioning as illustrations of the times, and in this case they are interesting in connection with the early life of the founder of[330] Methodism and the master of English psalmody. The two boys played in the rectory garden; and from their parents derived some of the power and peculiarity of their mature life. The parents, it is curious to remember, differed on the Jacobite question; and a story is told to the effect that Wesley, observing that his wife did not pray for William, and hearing her declare she could regard him only as Prince of Orange, told her, in sorrowing words, “If that be the case, you and I must part; for if we have two Kings, we must have two beds.” It is added that he took horse and rode to London; and being “Convocation man” for the diocese of Lincoln, resided in the Metropolis a whole year without corresponding with his family. The anecdote perhaps has in it much of exaggeration, and it has been questioned of late more than once, yet one would think there must be some truth in it, since it rests on the authority of John Wesley.[418] At that time a mean-looking parsonage was the rule, not the exception: and even in the parish of Kensington, though honoured by the presence of Royalty, the vicarage is described as having been of a very humble character, with lattice windows. A large proportion of the livings were very poor, some as low as £14 or £15 per annum.[419] Wesley’s first income was £30 a year from a curacy in London; and if so small a sum was paid in the Metropolis, what must it have been in some of the provinces! The pitiful condition of clergymen under Charles II. could have undergone no great improvement under William III. Of course in places of importance, if clerical incomes happened to reach a large amount, a handsome rectory or vicarage might be found, of which a few, built in Sir Christopher Wren’s time, with more regard to convenience[331] than taste, still remain. Of nearly the same date, deaneries and prebendal houses still linger amongst us—and long may they linger—snugly ensconced amidst pleasant gardens, in those most pleasant of all English precincts—our cathedral closes—so green and quiet, solemn and quaint.

As in the reign of Charles II., so in the reign of William III., the office of chaplain in the families of the great was not enviable. The salary was small, the position undignified, the treatment often disrespectful, and the means of usefulness limited and questionable. In the Athenian Oracle, the chaplain of a family not very regular or religious—forced to see Misses drinking and gaming, and afraid to open his mouth on the subject—complains of the miseries of his situation; he inquires what he ought to do, so as neither to betray religion nor give offence. He could not believe that to say grace and read prayers, when his patron was at leisure, constituted his duty, yet he found his brethren thought they had done enough when they had done no more than that.[420] Thomas Wilson, afterwards Bishop of Sodor and Man, certainly took a different view, for when chaplain and tutor to Lord Derby, he, with commendable faithfulness, rebuked his pupil’s extravagance, so as to restore his reputation and relieve his creditors. Once, as the young nobleman was about to sign his name, he felt some melted sealing-wax dropped on his finger by this eccentric mentor, who remarked, that the pain ought to impress him with a resolution never to sign what he had never examined.[421]

Clerical costume is a trifle worth only a passing sentence,[332] and it may be observed that it remained the same after the Revolution as before. But Archbishop Tillotson introduced a novelty. He is the first Prelate represented in a wig. The wig is of moderate dimensions, and not much unlike a head of natural hair. It is curious to find him remarking upon this innovation in one of his sermons. “I can remember, since the wearing the hair below the ears was looked upon as a sin of the first magnitude; and when ministers generally, whatever their text was, did either find or make occasion to reprove the great sin of long hair; and if they saw anyone in the congregation guilty in that kind, they would point him out particularly, and let fly at him with great zeal.”[422]

Partly as the result of causes at work ever since the Restoration—such as the poverty, the imperfect education, and the unexemplary character of many incumbents and curates—the Clergy, as a class, were in low esteem. What has been related of the profession in the reign of Charles II. produced effects which lasted long, and the conduct of a number of Constitutionalists, as well as of Jacobites, contributed to deepen the unpopularity of the order. Good men, lamenting the evils of the age, traced to them this state of feeling, and Robert Nelson speaks of the great contempt of the Clergy, than which he thought nothing could be a greater evidence of the decayed state of religion.[423]

Whatever may be the relation between social corruption and clerical unpopularity, it is certain the two things co-existed. Nelson deplored a decay of the spirit and life of devotion;[424] Thoresby declared that God seemed angry with the nation, as well He might, and so hid counsel[333] from men, and left them to take such courses as would be neither for their own nor the public good;[425] and Burnet relates, that profane wits were delighted at the circulation of books against the Trinity; that it became a common thing to treat mysteries in religion as priestly contrivances; and that, under cover of popular expressions, the enemies of religion vented their impieties.[426] Patrick lamented the prevalent coldness and carelessness in religion, “scarce an handful of people appearing in many churches at Divine Service, when the playhouses were crowded every day with numerous spectators;”[427] and John Norris referred to the decay of Christian piety and the universal corruption of manners. Christ seemed to him, asleep in the sacred vessel, while the tempest raged, and the waves almost overwhelmed the bark. Students of prophecy, regarding the state of Christianity as anti-christianized, anticipated the outpouring of the vials of wrath, the breaking-up of Christendom, and the replacement of God’s chosen people, the Jews, on the ruins of the Gentile Church.[428]

Profane swearing so far prevailed, that it is said in many circles a man’s discourse was hardly agreeable without it;[429] and it is remarkable that the instances given of John Howe’s courtesy, and the wisdom with which he administered reproof, relates to the frequent utterance of oaths. On one occasion, a gentleman addicted to this practice expatiated at great length on the merits of Charles I. Howe remarked that in his enumeration of the excellencies of the unfortunate Sovereign, he had omitted one—that he was never known to utter an oath in common discourse. On another occasion, he heard two gentlemen[334] in the street damning each other. The Divine, taking off his hat with a polite bow, exclaimed, “I pray God save you both!” Meeting a nobleman in the park, who, in speaking of the Occasional Conformity Bill, burst into a rage and said, “Damn the wretches! for they are mad, and will bring us all into confusion!” Howe replied, “My Lord, it is a great satisfaction to us, who in all affairs of this nature desire to look upwards, that there is a God who governs the world, to whom we can leave the issues and events of things; and we are satisfied, and may thereupon be easy, that He will not fail in due time of making a suitable retribution to all, according to their present carriage. And this great Ruler of the world, my Lord, has among other things also declared, He will make a difference between him that sweareth and him that feareth an oath.” “Sir, I thank you for your freedom,” was the reply; “I understand your meaning: I shall endeavour to make a good use of it.” “My Lord,” added Howe, “I have a great deal more reason to thank your Lordship for saving me the most difficult part of a discourse, which is the application.”[430]

Intemperance, increasing from the time of the Restoration, continued to extend its curses towards the close of the eighteenth century; old public-houses attracted more customers than ever, and many new ones were opened, the money spent in this way by the lower classes reaching an incredible amount.[431] Sober people lamented that their neighbours were, with temperance, losing also that kindliness of temper which had been prevalent amongst Englishmen.

The shock of an earthquake in September, 1692, alarmed the nation, and made “those who studied apocalyptical matters imagine that the end of the world drew near.” Burnet tells us it brought people “to more of an outward face of virtue and sobriety;” but, in his apprehension, they “became deeply corrupted in principle; a disbelief of revealed religion, and a profane mocking at the Christian faith and the mysteries of it, became avowed and scandalous.” Orders were given to execute the laws against drunkenness, swearing, and the profanation of the Lord’s-day; and, consequently, loud complaints arose of Puritanical regulations, savouring of John Knox’s doctrine and discipline. Blame for this was laid on the Bishop of Salisbury’s shoulders; and to make the whole thing appear ridiculous, a noble commentator on the right reverend historian, relates that hackney-coaches were not allowed to be used on the Sabbath, and constables were directed to take away pies and puddings from anybody who might be carrying them through the streets.[432]

Popular opinion in reference to supernatural agencies requires some notice, and presents signs of both mental stagnation and mental progress. Many were in a state of superstition as immovable as that of their fathers, believing in the reality, and smitten with the terrors, of diabolical possession and infernal witchcraft. Even towards the end of William’s reign, the diocese of Worcester was infected with this kind of faith; and the Bishop, Dr. Lloyd—who succeeded Stillingfleet—urged his Clergy to preach against errors respecting Satanic agency, indicating to them his own views on the subject. He did not doubt the extraordinary power of the Devil over heathen nations in ancient and modern times; but he thought[336] the Gospel had diminished his power; that those who were in the covenant of grace could not be injured by him, either in their persons, their possessions, or their children; nevertheless he admitted that a man, by profligacy, might yield himself to the great enemy, but could not receive from him supernatural help to hurt anybody else.[433]

Lancashire continued the home of such beliefs, and in the middle of King William’s reign, a place in that county called Surrey became powerfully agitated by the case of a lad, who stood upon his head, danced upon his knees, scrambled about on all fours, barked like a dog, talked shreds of Latin, ran into the water, and told things at a distance—all, it was said, the result of selling his soul to the Devil, in hopes of thereby becoming a first-rate dancer. The neighbours treated it as a real possession, and so did certain Presbyterian ministers, who appointed days of fasting and prayer on the youth’s behalf, and continued them weekly for a twelvemonth. Folks from the country flocked in to see and hear the marvels going on, and made themselves merry at the expense of the fruitless intercessors; they, in their turn, laid their want of success at the door of the boy’s family, saying the witches were in league with Satan, and therefore supplication could not avail. The supposed demoniac named three Popish priests as likely to cure him—a circumstance which led the discomfited Presbyterians to say that the Devil had more mind to let the Popish priests have “the credit of casting him out, because his ends would be better served by Popery than by them.”

The Episcopal Clergy in the neighbourhood stood aloof[337] from this stupid credulity. That the boy had been given to tricks from his early days was shown by witnesses; and collusions with his sister in pretended intercourse with the spirit-world were also proved. Foolish and wretched creatures now began to trade upon what had been a genuine belief, and their conduct, whilst it showed that sincerity was parting company with superstition, helped to undermine faith in all such things.

In London, similar but still more disgusting exhibitions were made by people pretending to be possessed; and in one case a miserable woman, through an accusation for witchcraft, had her hair torn off her head, and after being kicked and trampled on, was thrown into a horse-pond. A new result followed: instead of the supposed witch being punished, the pretended victim was. All sorts of pretences were shown up, and pretenders suffered the punishment they deserved, whilst poor old crones, bent double with age, escaped the river, the gallows, and the stake. Between 1640 and 1680, many unhappy creatures were punished for witchcraft. Between 1680 and 1691, three were hanged at Exeter, the last instance of capital punishment inflicted in England for this offence; three were imprisoned in Somersetshire; and several in other counties were ducked in horse-ponds.

An accused widow, really insane, died in Beccles Gaol; another, represented as having black and white imps, which turned out to be a white lock of wool in a basket, throwing a deep shadow, was acquitted. Afterwards, acquittals became common; indeed, I find no more convictions in England during the reign of William III.; on the other hand, I notice cases of people put in the pillory for pretending to be possessed.[434] Very much of this[338] change must be ascribed to the course pursued by Lord Chief Justice Holt. The wise and humane Sir Matthew Hale had retained through life a belief in the black act. His wisdom and humanity did not prove sufficient to penetrate to the delusion which from boyhood lay all around him; but Sir John Holt came into the world at a later period, and when he reached manhood, old prejudices had less power, the atmosphere of superstition was less dense; his shrewdness led him to see the falsehood of the theory, and to him belongs the honour of having swept the dust and dirt of the whole business clean out of English courts for ever.

The merit of Sir John Holt is all the greater in that a belief in bewitchment kept ground in many religious minds; and it was still common in other lands to punish people accused of the offence. One of the last books Baxter wrote contained notices of diabolical agencies, which he pressed upon atheists, sadducees, and infidels, with a view to their conversion. Many of the stories were communicated by such men as the Duke of Lauderdale, Lord Broghill, Dr. Daniel Williams, and the Rev. Thomas Evelyn, of Dublin, the last two being by no means persons of a superstitious turn. Making allowance for incorrect information, clever imposture, and the operation of natural causes, we find mentioned some things which must be referred to the operation of occult influences, never yet explained. The idea that there are no mysteries, evil as well as good, in the universe, is quite as much a prejudice, as the idea current in the days of Baxter; and the words which Shakespeare puts into the lips of Hamlet are profoundly wise—

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in our[435] philosophy.”

Yet to make use of such stories as Baxter tells for religious purposes is vain. “If they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded, though one rose from the dead.” His book no doubt proved to be labour lost, but he had plenty of people still to keep him in countenance. Samuel Wesley wrote in defence of the doctrine,[436] and in Scotland witch finding went on with vigour. In 1697 no less than twenty-eight people were accused, and seven of them were executed.[437] Nineteen were hanged within sixteen months (1692–3) in New England; eight more were condemned; one hundred and fifty were imprisoned; above two hundred were accused, of whom many fled the country to save their lives.[438]

One piece of superstition maintained by English Sovereigns received a vigorous check, but not a death-blow. I have described the ceremony of touching for the “king’s evil,” so ostentatiously revived by Charles II. His brother perpetuated the practice. The pecuniary benefit of submitting to the operation, no doubt, made it very popular, since it cost £10,000 a year for silver coins to be hung round the necks of patients. When, at the close of Lent, crowds besieged his doors, William exclaimed, “It is a silly superstition; give the poor[340] creatures some money, and send them away.” Once only could he be prevailed upon to touch a suppliant, when he added, “God give you better health, and more sense.” There were not wanting some to reproach the King as cruel and impious, for refusing to exercise a Divine gift; but the Jacobites turned his conduct to account by saying, he did not dare to pretend to a power which only belonged to the Lord’s anointed.

Courses of lectures on doctrinal and devotional themes had been fashionable with the Puritans. Robert Boyle, looking at the spread of infidelity, provided, by his will, for the appointment of a lecturer, to preach eight sermons in a year upon the Evidences of Christianity; and thus set an example which has been followed by Bampton, Hulse, and others. The trustees—Tenison, then Bishop of Lincoln, and John Evelyn being two of them—selected for the first performance of the duty a rising clergyman, already known in University circles by his vast attainments, and afterwards famous throughout the world of letters. Evelyn records the appointment in his Diary, by saying “he made choice of one Mr. Bentley, chaplain to the Bishop of Worcester;” and the comparatively obscure student, so described, regarded it in after-life as the greatest honour with which he was ever invested. He determined to follow Cudworth and Cumberland without imitating them, to go down to the basis of all theology, and to confute the opinions of Hobbes and Spinoza. Bentley’s Lectures, entitled, A Confutation of Atheism, after exposing the folly of a godless belief, aimed at demonstrating the Divine existence from an inquiry into the faculties of the human soul, the structure of the body, and the frame of the world. It was a movement[342] along the line of rational thought. The Revolution had appealed to reason in matters of government. Without throwing aside traditions—even while appealing to constitutional forms—Englishmen were seeking after fundamental political principles; and reason came now to be earnestly invoked in the service of religion. Philosophy had been employed in attacking Christian beliefs; philosophy now came to the rescue. Faith in an infinite cause, shaken by the human intellect, was to be reinforced by a more vigorous exercise of the same faculty.

Boyle, the founder of the Lecture, had collected scientific facts available for the lecturer’s purpose. Locke, by illustrating the essential difference between matter and mind, had become a pioneer in the path along which Bentley pushed parts of his argument; and Newton, by his Principia, had prepared for him methods by which to demonstrate the Creator’s providence and goodness. Thus assisted, Bentley showed himself possessed of original genius; and having at command satire as well as logic, with a style adapted to give effect to his thoughts, he produced a deep impression by his discourses. The first he delivered at St. Martin’s—the second at Bow Church; when Evelyn, ensconced in a tall-backed pew, listened with delight to the preacher, and immediately admitted him to his friendship. Before he published his work he wrote to the great philosopher, then resident in Trinity College, Cambridge. Newton corrected and modified Bentley’s opinions upon some points, but he confirmed his views respecting most, and supplied him with additional arguments.[439]

Bentley soon afterwards obtained a stall in Worcester Cathedral, probably through the influence of Stillingfleet,[343] his patron. If we are to believe his words, he had what was a better reward, for he says: “The Atheists were silent since that time, and sheltered themselves under Deism.” It is a pity that historical justice requires it to be said that this advocate of natural theology did not possess the primary virtue of religion, and the chief ornament of all learning. A nobleman happening one day to sit near Stillingfleet at dinner, observed to him, “My Lord, that chaplain of yours is certainly a very extraordinary man.” “Yes,” he replied; “had he but the gift of humility, he would be the most extraordinary man in Europe.”[440]

According to the terms of Boyle’s will, which authorized the appointment of the same lecturer for three years, Bentley might have delivered another course of sermons; but owing, as it is said, to the favouritism of one of the trustees, and in opposition to Evelyn’s wishes, Kidder, Bishop of Bath and Wells, delivered the second series, entitled, A Demonstration of the Messias. Williams, afterwards made a Bishop, exhibited in his lectures A General Idea of Revealed Religion. Gastrell, subsequently Bishop of Chester, a friend to Atterbury, and one who pleaded for him in Parliament, insisted upon The Certainty and Necessity of Divine Religion. Dr. Harris refuted the objections of Atheists to the existence and attributes of God; a superfluous task, it would seem, if we are to admit what has been said of the effect of Bentley’s dissertations. Bradford, “the little ebony doctor,” as he was called—an enemy of Atterbury’s—discoursed upon the credibility of the Christian Religion. Blackall, afterwards a Bishop, established and illustrated the sufficiency and perfection of the Old and New Testaments;[344] and Dr. Stanhope defended the truth and excellence of the Christian Religion against Jews, Infidels, and Heretics.[441]

In 1695, Locke anonymously published his Reasonableness of Christianity. Again the appeal was made, not to authority, tradition, or history, but to reason. The main object was to present the simplest and most rational form of religion. He concluded, from his study of the Gospels, that the primary requirement is, that men should believe Jesus to be the Messiah, the anointed and sent of God; that such a belief makes everyone a Christian; and that upon it the superstructure of Christian piety must ever rest. Every reader of this work must see how hardly he labours to establish his point, how he repeats over and over again his fundamental principle. He objects to the enforcement of particular creeds, and he is opposed to all Church authority in reference to religion; though he speaks in general terms of salvation through Christ, he enters into no definition whatever of evangelical doctrines, indeed such definitions he regards as foreign to his purpose.

Whilst teaching of this kind, with a continuous appeal to reason, runs through the larger part of the book, towards the close he enters upon the supernatural evidences of Christianity. Locke was an apostle of human reason as opposed to human authority, but he was no rationalist in the sense of opposing revelation. Revelation he recognized as a form of supernatural wisdom, and in advocating it he appealed to supernatural wonders. He dwelt upon the miracles of Christ as conclusive proofs of His Messianic office—a topic which he also largely treated in a distinct essay, which will be noticed hereafter.

The book was attacked not by infidels but by believers, not by those who objected to Christianity but by those who, attaching importance to certain truths passed over by Locke, thought that he presented an objectionable view of the Gospel. He appeared to them to be a rationalist. Dr. Edwards, a clergyman of the Church of England, son of the famous Presbyterian who wrote the Gangræna, assailed the treatise with bitterness; and so great was its unpopularity in some quarters, that a Prelate, who thought of it favourably, candidly confessed: “If I should be known to think so, I should have my lawn sleeves torn from my shoulders.” Foreign divines, however, hailed it with applause, especially Dutch friends of the Remonstrant school, Le Clerc and Limborch. It found numerous readers abroad, and a Dorsetshire rector, named Samuel Bold, though thoroughly orthodox on the subject of the Trinity—respecting which Locke laboured under some suspicion—took up his pen in defence of the lay theologian. Locke’s idea of faith, as a simple belief that Jesus is the Messiah, will be regarded by most theologians as very defective; nor is the account which he gives of Christianity one likely to afford satisfaction to any reader who has mastered the contents of the New Testament, whether he believes them or not. Absorbed in the effort to enforce his own view of the Gospel, Locke merely ignores, without disproving, certain doctrines, which by evangelical teachers of Christianity are identified with the system itself. I plainly see that with his habits of close philosophical thinking, he could not but be repelled by the manner in which those doctrines were urged by some warm-hearted divines. Yet however objectionably or offensively presented, they require to be noticed and disposed of in some way. They are true or false—if true, they must be taken into full account[346] before any conclusion can be drawn respecting the reasonableness of revelation; if false, they need to be refuted, ere such a notion of Christian faith as is propounded by our philosopher can be placed upon a sufficient basis. But Locke’s defects or mistakes relative to the extent of faith do not invalidate his main reasoning. His proofs of the truth and divinity of the Gospel, drawn from the miracles of Jesus, and from the necessity of an authoritative revelation of truth and morals, remain the same; and I would add, that of the devout faith of the author there can be no doubt, when we are assured that “he admired the wisdom and goodness of God in the method found out for the salvation of mankind, and when he thought upon it, he could not forbear crying out, ‘O the depth of the riches of the goodness and knowledge of God.’”[442]

Locke, in his Essay on the Human Understanding, enters at large upon the question of the boundaries between reason and revelation—a question involved in what he says on the Reasonableness of Christianity. He asserts most plainly the principle, that revelation cannot be admitted against the clear evidence of reason, but then, immediately afterwards, he adopts the distinction between things contrary to reason and things above reason—citing, as examples of the latter, the fall of angels and the resurrection of the dead. Anything not contrary to reason, he contends, is to be believed if taught by revelation; “whatever proposition,” he says, “is revealed, of whose truth our mind, by its natural faculties and notions, cannot judge, that is purely matter of faith, and above reason.” Revelation in such matters “ought to be hearkened unto.” Indeed, Locke goes so far as to say, that in those things concerning which the mind “has but[347] an uncertain evidence, and so is persuaded of their truth only upon probable grounds, which still admit a possibility of the contrary to be true, without doing violence to the certain evidence of its own knowledge and overturning the principles of all reason: in such probable propositions, I say, an evident revelation ought to determine our assent, even against probability.” Afterwards dwelling upon the evils of enthusiasm, of which he had a great horror, he goes on to remark: “Reason must be our last judge and guide in everything;” which, strictly taken, would mean that no revelation can be a final authority; but he proceeds in the next sentence to tell us: “I do not mean that we must consult reason, and examine whether a proposition revealed from God can be made out by natural principles, and if it cannot, that then we may reject it, but consult it we must, and by it examine whether it be a revelation from God, or no. And if reason finds it to be revealed from God, reason then declares for it, as much as for any other truth, and makes it one of her dictates.”[443] This explanation restricts the office of reason to an inquiry into evidence, as to whether what is thought to be revealed is really such, and leaves faith to rest ultimately, not in the apparent truth of a doctrine, but on the revelation making it known. To some, Locke in all this will not appear to have diverged from an orthodox treatment of evidences; to others, he will seem to have vacillated a little, leaning now in a rationalistic, and then in an opposite direction; by none, I think, can he be fairly regarded as holding the modern doctrine of a verifying faculty—a doctrine based on a philosophy different from his, and leading to conclusions at variance with his belief. Whatever might be Locke’s abstract[348] opinions, it is quite clear that he had no sympathy with the Socinian party, of whom he speaks as “positive and eager in their disputes;” “forward to have their interpretations of Scripture received for authentic, though to others in several places they seem very much strained;” impatient of contradiction, treating their opponents with “disrespect and roughness.” “May it not be suspected,” he asks, “that this so visible a warmth in their present circumstances, and zeal for their orthodoxy, would (had they the power) work in them as it does in others? They, in their turn, would, I fear, be ready with their set of fundamentals, which they would be as forward to impose on others, as others have been to impose contrary fundamentals on them.”[444]

Bentley and Locke added what was of the highest value to the literature of the Evidences. On a far lower[349] intellectual level appeared Leslie, the Nonjuror, who, eschewing paths of reason, prepared to enter the path of history, and addressed himself to those of his countrymen who have little time for study and less capacity for reflection. In 1696 he published A Short and Easy Method with the Deists, in which are laid down certain rules as to the truth of historical statements; and he contends that when they all meet, statements cannot be false. The rules are: “That the matter of fact be such, as that men’s outward senses, their eyes and ears, may be judges of it; that it be done publicly, in the face of the world; that not only public monuments be kept up in memory of it, but some outward actions to be performed; that such monuments and such actions or observances be instituted and do commence from the time that the matter of fact was done.” These rules, Leslie insists, could be successfully applied to the facts connected with the origin of the religion of Moses and the religion of Christ, pointing to the institution and observance of Baptism and of the Lord’s Supper as memorials of the latter. Mohammedanism, he said, lacks such evidence, and he challenged Deists to show any action that is fabulous, in support of which all the four marks can be alleged. The work is of a very slight description, and is composed in a loose and inaccurate style. It could not meet the case of any who have adopted the principles of historical inquiry laid down by Voltaire and developed by Niebuhr, and by them applied to classical annals; nor could the method be applied by any critical student without great modification, and at the expense of an amount of learning, which would render the argument useless for popular purposes.

Charles Blount, after a side thrust at Christianity in his Notes on Philostratus’s Life of Apollonius Tyanæus, left[350] behind him papers, which were published in a book, entitled, The Oracles of Reason, containing desultory attacks on revelation, chiefly in a covert form. Indeed, Blount quaintly observes: “Undoubtedly, in our travels to the other world, the common road is the safest; and though Deism is a good manuring of a man’s conscience, yet certainly, if sowed with Christianity, it will produce the most plentiful crop.” It is a curious fact that the editor and publishers of these posthumous essays afterwards became convinced of their true character, and, with a view to counteracting their effect, issued the Deist’s Manual.

John Toland—who, after being educated a Roman Catholic, whilst still a boy rushed out of gross superstition into what was to him the more congenial region of scepticism—began his career as an author by writing his Christianity not Mysterious, a discourse showing that there is nothing in the Gospel contrary to reason nor above it, and that no Christian doctrine can be properly called a mystery. In this work he does not appear as an antagonist of Christianity; perhaps he had not yet begun to regard himself otherwise than as a Christian; yet the tendency of his opinions is to undermine the authority of revelation. His book, which attracted wide attention, and was, as we have seen, condemned by the Lower House of Convocation, engaged the pen of the Bemerton Rector, John Norris, whose extraordinary metaphysical genius found scope for its exercise in examining Toland’s lucubrations. His Account of Reason and Faith, in Relation to the Mysteries of Christianity, is one of the ablest books of the period, and displays a power of analysis, and a determination to reduce the powers of the human mind to their simplest form, such as reminds one of the subtle originality of Dr. Thomas Browne.

Metaphysics are made to do duty in the service of[351] orthodoxy. Norris dwells upon the distinction of things contrary to reason and above it, showing that there is a valid ground for the distinction, that human reason is not the measure of truth; that, therefore, a thing being incomprehensible by reason, is of itself no conclusive argument of its being untrue; that if the incomprehensibility of a thing were an argument against it, human reason would become the measure of truth; and, therefore, he concludes that incomprehensibility should not militate against faith. Of course the terms of a proposition must be intelligible and not contradictory, for no man can accept what is plainly nonsensical or obviously false; but the mysterious nature of a fact asserted in a proposition, Norris proves to be no valid objection to the veracity of the proposition. His mode of handling this subject, though extremely skilful and effective, is not always such as to bear a very close scrutiny; and some modification of his argument is required, in order to a safe entrenchment against inimical attacks. But he successfully establishes this point—the fundamental one throughout the controversy—that it is perfectly reasonable and perfectly consonant with the laws and constitution of the human mind, to believe upon the authority of revelation, in other words, upon the authority of infinite wisdom. Norris does not treat Toland’s doctrine as a form of Deism; his particular application of the principles laid down in this account of reason and faith is to the Socinian system, but much of the reasoning is strictly applicable to a form of Deism very prevalent in the present day. A great deal of what he says goes to the heart of certain modern theories, and several pages upon the nature and degrees of mental assent deserve careful study in connection with existing controversies.[445]

It will be sufficient to complete this sketch if I observe that Toland made a decided attack on the New Testament Canon in his Amyntor, published in 1698; and that the formidable controversialist, Samuel Clark, the next year commenced his polemical career by a successful encounter in defence of the canonicity of the Gospels.

In the course of this work I have had repeated occasions for noticing the theological literature of the period—dogmatical, practical, and polemical. It will not be impertinent, as we wind up the subject, to remark respecting its form and style.

The Renaissance had been at work in art and poetry, and had gradually supplanted the old romantic school. Gothic churches disappeared in the fire of London; those built on their ruins were classical reproductions. A new St. Paul’s arose on Ludgate Hill, in contrast with old St. Peter’s on Thorney Island. Multiplicity of parts, angularity of form, picturesqueness of detail, brilliancy of hue, gave place to regularity of outline, a mathematical exactness of proportion, smoothness of ornament, and absence of colour. No more pointed arches, no more niches, no more finials and crockets, no more richly-stained windows;—all became round, uniform, pale, cold.

A similar change came over poetry. It were an indignity to the great bard of the seventeenth century to compare him with any other than the great bard of the sixteenth. Milton’s name is linked with Shakespeare’s, but in the way of contrast, just as St. Paul’s Cathedral is associated with Westminster Abbey. The poet of the Renaissance succeeds the poet of romance. The architectural character of the two buildings symbolize the characteristic differences of the two masters of English song. And this same Renaissance spirit worked its way into theological literature. Taylor and Bunyan, indeed, all the great[353] religious writers of the Commonwealth and the Restoration, appear more or less romancists in the style of their thoughts, regarded from a literary point of view. Divisions, pointedness, quaint expression, warmth of sentiment, such as arrests us in mediæval buildings, are reproduced in the books of that picturesque age. The two authors just mentioned belong to the class of romancist prose poets. But all is changed when we turn to the theological literature of King William’s days—Tillotson, Burnet, Bentley, Locke. We miss Anglican and Puritan sweep of thought, minuteness of detail, intensity of utterance, and glow of passion. There is no depth of colour, all is pale; no flash of fire, all is cold. We meet with regularity, order, smoothness. It is the age of Renaissance in Divinity.

Roman Catholicism, during the Middle Ages, had given scope to the institution, and had paid attention to the culture, of voluntary societies. Such societies had sprung up in different parts of Europe amongst the Clergy and amongst the Laity, being placed in subjection to the laws, animated by sympathy with the spirit, and directed to the promotion of the interests of the Church. Monks praying in cloisters, friars preaching in streets, secular fraternities in towns and cities visiting the poor and sick, had engaged in spontaneous activity, yet had remained faithful to their spiritual mother. English Protestantism, at first, did not produce or encourage any such forms of operation. Cathedral and parochial clergymen, in dignified or humble routine, were its only authorized agents. Missionary efforts, foreign and domestic, as well as lay associations for spiritual improvement, were unknown. In one ascertained exceptional instance, under Edward VI., an unordained person was allowed to preach; but it was the rule to exclude all but men in orders from every kind of public or socially organized usefulness. Not only were Anglicans destitute of any association of lay helpers in Christian work at home, and of any means for carrying on Missions abroad, but Puritans were in the same predicament, since meetings for prophesying, catechizing,[355] and lecturing, and plans for purchasing presentations to livings, did not constitute the kind of co-operation now in view. Presbyterians, and many Independents also, not only from necessity, but from that neglect of unclerical enterprise which characterized the age, confined themselves, with few exceptions, to pulpit teaching and pastoral influences. High Church and Low Church, the Establishment and the sects, exhibited disregard of a principle in full play in other portions of Western Christendom. A clerical jealousy of laymen, a fear of schism, and a dislike of everything approaching to irregularity, lay at the bottom of the Anglican aversion to lay agency. Prejudices of a similar kind influenced Puritans; for although there existed abundant religious irregularity during the Commonwealth, there were not a few amongst Nonconformists wedded to their own notions of church order. They were High Churchmen in their own way, regarding the ecclesiastical principles of the New Testament as so comprehensive in their direct application, as to render all associations distinguished from the Church itself as perfectly needless.

This state of things prevailed during three-fourths of the seventeenth century, when a movement began, opening the way to consequences which ever since have been unfolding themselves. At present, the vast number of our religious societies—some in slender connection with churches, some in no connection with them at all—form phenomena worth the study of social philosophers; and the rise of them may be distinctly traced in those combinations for certain purposes, just before and during the reign of William III., which are now to be described. The outburst of zeal at that time has received much less notice than its importance deserves.

It was about the year 1678—sixty years after the first[356] establishment in Paris of the societies by St. Vincent de Paul—that a few young men in London, belonging to the congregations of Dr. Horneck, the popular preacher at the Savoy, and of Mr. Smithies, an impressive lecturer at St. Michael’s, Cornhill, came under one of those inspirations which mark epochs of revival. They agreed to meet weekly for religious conference, prayer, and scripture reading. When, under James II., signs of Papal outgrowths were visible, they sought to check returning superstition, and promoted the use of daily common prayer at the church of St. Clement Danes, as a sort of protest against the use of daily mass at the Chapel Royal. Feeling a more than ordinary desire for the Communion, they frequented the Lord’s-table whenever they had an opportunity, and stimulated clergymen to celebrate, not only upon Sundays but upon holidays; and on the vigils of feasts they met for preparation at one another’s houses. They thus fell in with a current of sacramental feeling, which became prevalent and powerful at the opening of the eighteenth century—promoted by the writings of Robert Nelson and others, and by the example of distinguished persons amongst both Clergy and Laity.[446] They also raised money for the payment of clergymen who read prayers, for the relief of the poor, for the support of schools, and for the spread of Christianity abroad and at home. They laid down rules of conduct, drawn from their own religious and ecclesiastical principles, “To love one another; when reviled not to revile again; to speak evil of no man; to wrong no man; to pray, if possible, seven times a-day; to keep close to the Church of England; to transact all things peaceably and gently; to be helpful to each other; to use themselves to holy thoughts[357] on coming in and going out; to examine themselves every night; to give every one his due; to obey superiors, both spiritual and temporal.” Controverted points of Divinity were banished from discussion, no prayers were used but those in the Prayer-Book, or sanctioned by clergymen; the strong Church element in these societies further manifesting itself in careful abstinence from a lay use of absolution. Resembling in some respects, in others differing from, Young Men’s Christian Associations, they must be regarded as harbingers of the latter institutions; and, so regarded, they in certain minds acquire an interest beyond that which inherently belongs to them.

The societies, developed in the way described, attained vigour and prosperity in the middle of King William’s reign, being promoted by the approval of Queen Mary, who took a deep interest in their proceedings. Thirty-nine of them were instituted in London and Westminster. They spread into the midland and western counties; we find them at Nottingham and Gloucester, and we follow them across the Channel to Ireland, to Kilkenny and Drogheda, especially to Dublin, where no less than ten of them arose under the sanction and help of the Bishops and Clergy.[447]

Tillotson, Compton, and other Prelates, at an early period looked favourably upon the associations and aided their endeavours; but some at first were shy. Archbishop Sharpe, for example, and other clergymen, both Bishops and Presbyters, frowned upon all movements of the kind, as violations of order and as productive of schism. Amongst the lay promoters of these societies,[358] Robert Nelson becomes conspicuous after the year 1700, when he abandoned the Nonjuring party.

Another kind of society, originated about the year 1691—not intended, like the Young Men’s Associations, for personal religious improvement, but for checking public immorality—was formed so as to include Nonconformists. The methods of operation were manifold. The most prominent was to enforce the execution of the laws against vice and profanity; and to stir up people to join in this enforcement, the utmost ingenuity and the most plausible eloquence were employed. An abstract of the statutes against the profanation of the Lord’s-day, drunkenness, swearing and cursing, blasphemy, lewd and disorderly practices, and gaming, was published and circulated, with a list of penalties annexed; and all good subjects were exhorted, on grounds of patriotism and religion, to aid in executing these statutes. Other associations were formed for the same purpose. Persons of eminence, members of Parliament, justices of the peace, and London citizens, constituted one division of the army enlisted in the service of public morals; they chiefly furnished the supplies for carrying on the war. About fifty persons, including tradesmen and others, composed a second band, to promote, by individual efforts, the prosecution of the design. A third detachment embraced constables, who were “to meet to consider of the most effectual way to discharge their oaths, to acquaint one another with the difficulties they met with, to resolve on proper remedies, to divide themselves in the several parts of the city so as to take in the whole to the best advantage for inspecting of disorderly houses, taking up of drunkards, lewd persons, profaners of the Lord’s-day, and swearers out of the streets and markets, and carrying them before the magistrates.” A fourth rank of[359] men, described as the corner-stone of the undertaking, contained as many as were disposed to inform against delinquents; the money arising from informations being devoted to the help of the poor, except a third part of the penalty against Sabbath-breaking, which the magistrate had the power to distribute, but which had never, so it was said, been bestowed upon the informers themselves.

The necessity of laws for the punishment of offences against society and individual rights is plain, but the efficacy of legislation for the suppression of immorality and irreligion is more than questioned. Fines and imprisonments can only produce a skin-deep reformation, and when relaxed are followed by fresh outbursts of vicious indulgence; and if the least objectionable part of the plan now under review was defective, the encouragement given to informers was adapted to produce bad results, only second to those which were assailed. To stir up people to lay informations against their neighbours, must breed mutual suspicion; and with the honest intention of destroying one evil, provoke another into fiercer rage. The laws against drunkenness, houses of ill-fame, and gambling, were wise and good, and deserved to be put in force; but the laws against some kinds of conduct, called Sabbath-breaking, and profaneness, and blasphemy, were of a different class and of a doubtful character. Blasphemy included the denial of the doctrine of the Trinity, so that any honest and upright Socinian came under the scourge, it being sophistically added as a note at the bottom of the published abstract, “This statute punishes not the error, but the impudence of the offender.” It should be stated further, that over the enforcement of the law against immorality and irreligion an even-handed justice did not preside. The bandage[360] sometimes fell from the eyes of that impartial lady. The cases of rich and poor, of high and low, were not always weighed in the same scales. The crusade against sinners in the valleys and low lands of social life was most vigorously carried on; the sinners on the hills were left to do very much as they liked. De Foe exposed this kind of double-dealing.

But the result of the prosecutions was such that the good people, working in this way, regarded themselves as very successful. Seventy or eighty warrants a week were executed upon street swearers, so that the constables “found it difficult to take up a swearer in divers of our streets.” Sunday markets ceased; drovers and carriers were stopped; bakers did not dare to appear with their baskets, or “barbers with their pot, basin, or periwig-box;” hundreds of bad houses became closed; and “thousands of lewd persons were imprisoned, fined, and whipped, and the Tower end of the town much purged from that pestilential generation of night-walkers, forty or fifty of them being sent in a week to Bridewell, from whence, at their own desire, they were transported to America, to gain an honest livelihood in the plantations.”

Means of another and an unexceptionable nature were employed for the furtherance of the general object. The distribution of tracts—now become so conspicuous and powerful an agency—was then systematically commenced, and we notice in the scanty but gradually increasing list, Kind Caution to Profane Swearers and The Soldier’s Monitor, the last of these publications indicating the interest taken in the spiritual welfare of the army. A hundred thousand short tracts against drunkenness and other vices were distributed throughout the country, and we meet with the statement that especial care was taken to present them to culprits after their conviction. Connected with this[361] enterprise appears the germ of another usage, exceedingly popular in our own times—the preaching of sermons on particular occasions in behalf of societies. Episcopal clergymen advocated them from the pulpit of Bow Church, Nonconforming ministers from the pulpit of Salter’s Hall. With eloquence, or with varying degrees in the want of it; with spirit, or with dulness; with a pleasant voice, as of one who can play well on an instrument, or with an unmusical delivery, which grated harshly on sensitive ears,—did these divines stand up before congregations, crowded or scanty, charmed or disappointed, enthusiastic or critical; after which a collection was made, yielding a goodly amount of gold and silver, or the reverse. Then, as now, secretaries would be filled with anxiety, committees would listen with a feeling of responsibility, praises and censures would follow the appeals, complacency would be inspired, mortification would be provoked, thanks would be returned; and the good and evil, the grace and the frailty, the virtues and the infirmities incident to such occasions would begin to manifest themselves on a small scale, in prophetic type of what obtains in the May anniversaries of the nineteenth century.

The meetings at Bow Church, graced by the presence and assisted by the advocacy of such men as Patrick, Burnet, Trelawny, Kidder, Williams, Stanhope, and Bray, were held once a quarter; and, besides sermons delivered on behalf of these societies, there were sermons preached, exposing the vices of the age. In different parts of the country efforts of this kind were made. Stratford, the Bishop, and Fog, the Dean of Chester, warmly took up the new cause, and the picturesque old city in the north became head-quarters for the new crusade.

Societies for the reformation of manners gradually multiplied, and within a few years they existed numerously, not only in England, but in Scotland and Ireland; and the undulations of the excitement rolled over Europe, touched Flanders, Holland, Germany, Switzerland, Denmark, Sweden, and also reached as far as the West Indies and North America.

There were not wanting Churchmen who fixed a jealous eye on these proceedings, seeing that they combined Conformists and Nonconformists in works of charity. The goodness of the object did not prevent disapproval of union with schismatics. Archbishop Sharpe, whose suspicions as to the Young Men’s Societies have been already mentioned, refused to countenance in any way those on a broader basis; and Henry Newcome, son of the eminent Presbyterian of that name, when preaching a Reformation Lecture, railed against Dissenters, a circumstance which led Matthew Henry to say, “The Lord be judge between us. Perhaps it will be found that the body of Dissenters have been the strongest bulwarks against profaneness in England.” The practice of laying informations sometimes produced bad blood in Church circles. “My brother Hulton,” Henry records in his Diary, “on Lord’s-day was seven-night, observing the churchwardens of St. Peter’s with a strange minister and others, go to Mr. Holland’s alehouse, and sit there three hours, told the Recorder of it. The Bishop came to hear of it, and Mr. Hulton desired his Lordship to admonish them. They set light by the Bishop, and challenged the magistrates to fine them; whereupon Mr. Hulton was summoned to inform against them, and did so, and they were fined, but they were very abusive to him.” The co-operation of Churchmen and Dissenters excited political suspicion; and Vernon, Secretary of State, by no means[363] friendly to such movements, told the Duke of Shrewsbury that the Archbishop apprehended their design was to undermine the Church, and that the Lord Chancellor thought they rather aimed at discrediting the Administration. Even William approved of a watch being kept over the movement, and Somers was for finding out all ways of getting into their secret, and by clandestine means to defeat clandestine objects. Not that Dissenters were suspected of treason, but his Lordship wished to know “what discontented Churchmen or discarded statesmen meant by insinuating themselves into their familiarities.”[448]

In one instance the activity of the reformers occasioned a riot. May Fair reached its zenith in the reign of William III., when, in addition to the sale of leather and cattle, all sorts of exhibitions took place adapted to high and low, rich and poor. Graceful dancers attracted noblemen; duck-hunting in a pond at the back of a wooden house—which then, in rural simplicity, stood in what is now the heart of a west-end population—drew together crowds of the vulgar; and for the curious of all ranks there was provided a model of the City of Amsterdam, carved in wood; and, amongst other wonders, a body was shown with the words Deus Meus written on the pupil of one eye, and on the other a Hebrew inscription, which had to be taken on trust. Want of loyalty was not one of the vices of the place, for a play-bill informed the public that during the time of May Fair an excellent droll would be performed, called, “King William’s Happy Deliverance, and Glorious Triumph over his Enemies.” Even ecclesiastical zeal penetrated this multifarious assemblage, for the bill gave as a second title of the piece, “The Consultation of the Pope, Devil, French King, and[364] the Grand Turk.” Vivat Rex closed the advertisement.[449] Not confining themselves to the quiet distribution of tracts, the friends of morality who visited the Fair in 1702 were bent upon executing the law. Informers, constables, and magistrates were busy at their work, apprehending the worst offenders, and no doubt plenty they found to do, for it is stated by a contemporary that young people, by the temptation they met with here, committed much sin, and fell into much disorder. “Here they spent their time and money in drunkenness, fornication, gaming, and lewdness, whereby were occasioned oftentimes quarrels, tumults, and shedding of blood.”[450] The consequence of the excitement produced by the reformers was, that a set of ruffians, including a number of soldiers, swore at the constables, drew swords, made an assault, killed one, and wounded several. The man who slew the constable was hanged.

At the close of the year 1698 an organization more important than any of the preceding took its rise. Dr. Bray and four distinguished friends, consisting of Lord Guildford, Sir Humphrey Mackworth, Mr. Justice Hook, and Colonel Maynard Colchester, met, and drew up a document, by which they agreed as often as conveniently, to consult together how they might be able, by due and lawful methods, to promote Christian knowledge. The last words pointed to the general object contemplated, and gave a distinctive name to the institution arising out of these circumstances, The Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge. As the purpose was comprehensive, and the means remained to be arranged, a principle of selectness appeared essential to success; and, accordingly, the possession of “noted humility, condescension, and charity,”[365] was laid down as essential to membership. It was determined to have a chairman to preserve order, and the members were urged, first, to “prevent heats and to allay such as may arise,” and then “to exercise discretion in talking of their affairs.” Prayers were to be offered upon commencing business. Members were to be carefully elected, no payment of money or possession of office being recognized as a qualification. A candidate was proposed at two meetings before admission, and in the minutes for June, 1699, it is recorded on the 27th, that the Lord Bishop of Gloucester was proposed for the first time, and on the 29th that he was proposed a second time. Eminent persons, including Prelates, Presbyters, and Laymen, soon joined the new association. Amongst the Prelates were Patrick, Fowler, Williams, Kidder, Lloyd, and Burnet. Amongst Presbyters were Shute, Manningham, Wheeler, and Mapletoft, the latter two being clergymen of Nonjuring principles, and their association with such men as Fowler and Burnet in this kind of work is very remarkable. Amongst the Laymen were Richard Blackmore, William Melmoth, and Robert Nelson; the last, who joined in 1699, whilst still a Jacobite, and a non-communicant with the Established Church, further illustrates the toleration of political and ecclesiastical differences. Besides members in London, who could meet for personal conference, there were corresponding associates. John Strype, at Low Leyton, turned aside from his ancient rolls and faded manuscripts to unite in this movement, and Samuel Wesley formed a branch at Epworth.

Manifold were the methods adopted at the beginning, and various schemes being from time to time discussed, the Society pursued diversified forms of action, according to circumstances. It was primarily a Book and Tract[366] Society. The establishment of parochial libraries in America to aid the work of the Clergy, and of lending catechetical libraries in market towns of this kingdom, together with the distribution of good books, as the Society should direct, are amongst the decisions mentioned in the minutes. At an early period we find in its list of publications, Bradford on Regeneration, Scougal’s Life of God in the Soul of Man, Melmoth’s Great Importance of a Religious Life, and Bull’s Corruptions of the Church of Rome. Thirty thousand copies of The Soldier’s Monitor were sent to the army in Holland. Admiral Benbow and Sir George Rooke caused similar tracts to be circulated throughout the fleet; and Cautions to Watermen were sent down to the West for distribution amongst people employed on rivers and canals. It was also a School Society upon Church principles. Catechetical schools in and about London received attention; and before the end of the year 1699 it was reported that in Whitechapel, Poplar, St. Martin’s, Cripplegate, Shadwell, Shoreditch, and Bishopsgate, they had been set up through the Society’s operations. Other similar efforts were made, as appears from a report by Lord Guildford, as to teaching paupers in workhouses and instructing them in the Catechism; and further, it may be stated that resolutions were passed to induce the parents of scholars to attend catechetical lectures. It is also worth noticing, as a curiosity, that Mr. Symons, schoolmaster at Cripplegate, discovered a secret, by which he could teach twenty or thirty boys the alphabet in a day. Allusions occur, in the months of July and August, 1699, to efforts at instruction in the parish of St. George’s, Southwark, being “much obstructed,” when it was ordered that the agents should immediately treat with a schoolmaster, the Society to ensure him one half-year’s[367] pay; but the measure was postponed in hopes of an agreement with the parish officers, who seemed to have thrown difficulties in the way.

Whilst the promotion of Christian knowledge, by means of publications and schools, formed the main object of the Society, other purposes were incidentally contemplated, and we find these good men anticipating the labours of John Howard by seeking to improve the state of prisons, and the modern condemnation of duelling, by giving thanks to Sir John Phillips for his noble Christian example in refusing a challenge. Numerous references occur in the earliest proceedings to efforts for the conversion of Quakers, and, as they are so singular, they claim notice and require explanation.

There was a man named George Keith, a native of Aberdeen, and a fellow-student with Gilbert Burnet at the University of that city. He went over to America, and there pursued a distinguished course as a preacher amongst the Quakers; but disputes arose between him and the Pennsylvanian Friends, which ended in their disowning him, and in his resisting them. They could not retain a person who openly declared that he “trampled their judgments under his feet as dirt;” who charged those who opposed him, with apostacy from Quakers’ principles; and who established a separate meeting for such as sympathized in his views. Strange to say, after protesting against American Friends as untrue to the doctrine of their Society, this energetic person became a member of the Church of England, and, on his return to this country, entered into holy orders. He now became a zealous opponent of the people with whom he had been identified, and being brought into intimate connection with Dr. Bray, that gentleman considered him a suitable agent for the new Society. Whether the Society[368] originally designed him for the purpose or not, certainly Keith deemed it his vocation to do all in his power to bring Quakers within the pale of the English Church, and the records of the Society endorse his efforts in this respect. They “report about the Quakers, and give a satisfactory account of Keith’s designs,” bestowing upon him a certificate or recommendation, to protect him in his travels and procure him encouragement from the justices of the peace, at the same time resolving to circulate his narrative and catechism. A little later a resolution was adopted “respecting Keith’s progress into the country to convert the Quakers,” and the sum of £10 12s. was voted for the purchase of publications, which he was to distribute in his tour. Reports were sent in by him stating the result of his mission in Bristol and elsewhere; and it seems that, as the Quakers at an earlier period had been in the habit of entering parish churches, to bear witness there against what they considered a departure from the spirit of the Gospel, so now their former friend, George Keith, carried on his labours against them in a strictly retaliative form.

It is stated in the Society’s minutes, that the Quakers opposed his attempts to preach in their meeting-houses; and one is surprised to find, after the Act of Toleration had passed, the following entry:—“Resolved, that Mr. Keith attempts again, and, if opposed, that he pursue his remedy according to law.”

Quakers are not the only persons whose conversion was specially contemplated; particular attention was paid to Roman Catholics, and it was agreed that the members of the Society should endeavour to inform themselves of the practices of priests to pervert His Majesty’s subjects. I do not find any mention made of special endeavours to[369] bring back to the Church any other section of Nonconformists than the people called Quakers.[451]

The Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge was the parent of another society of not less importance. Dr. Bray was deeply interested in Missions abroad; with extraordinary efforts for the diffusion of the Gospel in England, he combined extraordinary efforts for the diffusion of the Gospel in the American colonies. He went out to Maryland at his own expense, as Ecclesiastical Commissary to the Bishop of London, and did not return to England until after he had exhausted his resources. It appears that in March, 1697, when a Bill was being read in Parliament respecting estates devoted to superstitious uses, he presented a petition, praying that a portion of such estates might be set apart for the propagation of the reformed religion in Maryland, Virginia, and the Leeward Isles, or that some other provision should be made for the purpose. Animated by this spirit, he induced the Society to approve of libraries in North America for the use of the Clergy. He visited Holland to obtain from His Majesty a grant in aid, and reported the design of Sir Richard Bulkeley to settle on his Irish estate a rent-charge of £20 a year, and his gift of a share in certain mines for the furtherance of this object. At length, floating desires assumed definite shape, and steps were taken to secure a charter for Propagating the Gospel in Foreign Parts. Dr. Bray, through the instrumentality of Archbishop Tenison and Bishop Compton, succeeded in accomplishing this object, and in May, 1701, the draft of a charter “was read and[370] debated, and several amendments made, and the names of the secretary and other officers proposed and agreed to.”[452] Repeated conferences took place at the meetings of the Society, touching points connected with the new undertaking; and on the 9th of June, Dr. Bray stated that His Majesty in Council had signed an order for incorporating the Society. Convocation had turned its thoughts to Foreign Missions, but relinquished further proceedings upon finding this charter was granted. The instrument described the objects of the new Society as being, first, the providing of learned and orthodox ministers for the administration of God’s word and sacraments amongst the King’s loving subjects in the plantations, colonies, and factories beyond the seas. So far the enterprise was strictly colonial, intended for the spiritual instruction and welfare of English emigrants to distant shores. The charter, secondly, contemplated the making of such other provision as might be necessary for the propagation of the Gospel in those parts; and this, read in the light of subsequent operations, might be interpreted to signify the diffusion of Christian knowledge amongst such of the heathen as lived in the neighbourhood of English colonists. Still the objects remained limited; it was confined to the British dominions, and took no account of pagan countries lying outside. Now that our Indian dominion is so extensive, the old charter may be construed as pointing to an immense field of labour there; but the charter at first—when our colonial dependencies were of comparatively narrow extent—contemplated, consistently with its nature as an incorporation under the English crown, a range of effort far within the wide sweep which Missions since have happily[371] taken. Power was given to hold property, to carry on legal proceedings, to make bye-laws, and to collect subscriptions. To stamp the whole with a Church of England character, the Archbishops of Canterbury and York, the Bishops of London and Ely, the Lord Almoner, the Deans of Westminster and St. Paul’s, the Archdeacon of London, and the Regius and Margaret Professors of Divinity at Oxford and Cambridge for the time being, were constituted trustees, the selection of some of these dignitaries at first being doubtless determined on personal grounds.

Under the presidency of his Grace of Canterbury, a meeting of members took place within one of the apartments of Lambeth Palace on the 27th of June, 1701; and we can fancy Compton, Williams, Fowler, Sherlock, and others, coming in barges along the Thames, or in coaches, on horseback, or a-foot through the narrow streets, to the well-known gateway of the Archiepiscopal abode. The charter was read. Five hundred printed copies of it were ordered. Melmoth was chosen treasurer, and Chamberlayne secretary. According to a vote on the occasion, there was prepared a symbolical seal, representing a ship in full sail, with a gigantic clergyman, half-mast high, standing by the bowsprit with an open Bible in his hands, whilst diminutive negroes, in an attitude of expectancy, are sprinkled over a hilly beach. Overhead is one of those awkward scrolls, devised to convey words uttered by the persons introduced; and here it contains in Latin the Macedonian prayer, which the little blacks are supposed to be offering: “Come over and help us.” At the top is a face surrounded by sun rays, apparently intended to denote the presence and benediction of God vouchsafed to the undertaking.

Meetings afterwards were held at the Cockpit, in Whitehall, or in the vestry of Bow Church, and afterwards[372] in Archbishop Tenison’s library, in St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields. Soon the secretary prepared parchment rolls for the use of members deputed to receive subscriptions, amongst whom were Bishop Patrick, Archdeacon Stanley, and others. The Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge had at least contemplated missionary work in our western colonies; but now that a new Society had been incorporated for extending the Gospel in foreign parts, these fields of labour were placed under its care.

As a precursor of publications in religious literature, issued within a short time in such numbers as would fill a library, there was presented, at the close of the first year’s operations, a report, from which it is worth while to extract a passage or two illustrating the way in which such documents were then drawn up, and of the nature of the work accomplished by the Society.

Mention is made of “one missionary for the service of the Yeomansee Indians to the South of Carolina;” of regard had to infidels amongst English settlers in North America; and of the determination also to resist the progress of “Quakerism, Antinomianism, ignorance, and immorality, which have hitherto fatally overspread those infant churches.” Provision was made for “some of the islands by a supply of two ministers;” further, there had been “a settlement compassed for a congregation at Amsterdam, with the consent of the magistrates of the place;” and encouragement had been given to commence a church at Moscow, of which the Czar had laid the foundation. The expense of these undertakings was paid out of a fund of about £800, aided by subscriptions amounting to £1,700.

In an appendix of the year 1701 is found a plan, proposed by Patrick Gordon, for establishing seminaries on the verge of the Indian territory, where boys from London[373] charity-schools should be sent; the main object being to “induce Indian children to play with these boys, that marriages might be promoted among them, and a mixed race of Christians might thus arise.”[453]

It is a curious fact that in the year 1703 overtures were made by White Kennet on behalf of the Society to Thomas Hearne, to settle in Maryland in a parochial cure. He was to be ordained at the charge of Dr. Bray, to have a library of books to the value of £50, to receive for his cure £70 per annum, and by degrees to be better preferred. He was to be librarian to the province, at an additional salary of £10 a year; and it was added: “When you have been there any time, you have liberty to return with money in your pocket and settle here in England, if you are not more pleased with all the good accommodations of that place.” The offer was not accepted. Hearne felt no vocation to colonial work.[454] By his refusal, the Society lost one who might have been no very successful missionary, and Oxford gained an illustrious archæologist.

A bold step taken by the Nonjurors in the year 1694 deepened and perpetuated their schism, and some circumstances tainted their proceedings with more disloyalty than could be involved in the mere refusal of an oath. Sancroft, as if copying Romish pretensions, had appointed Lloyd, ex-Bishop of Norwich, his “Vicar,” “Factor,” “Proxy-General,” or “Nuncio.” Lloyd accordingly proceeded, in concert with the deprived Prelates of Peterborough and Ely, to appoint two Bishops. To soften appearances and to avoid collisions, they gave the persons appointed the titles of Suffragans of Thetford and of Ipswich, and, in keeping with their own Jacobitism, they consulted the Royal Exile respecting those who should fill the offices. Dr. Hickes was despatched on a visit to St. Germains, with a list of the Nonjurors, to ask James to exercise the prerogative by nominating two clergymen for these posts. He graciously received the delegate, who spent six weeks in travelling that short distance, and in overcoming the difficulties of access to his Court. Having consulted the Pope, the Archbishop of Paris, and Bossuet of Meaux, whether it would be consistent with loyalty to the Church to do what was asked, James, with their sanction, nominated Hickes as Suffragan of Thetford, and Wagstaffe as Suffragan[375] of Ipswich.[455] It is plain that James made capital out of this to further his own designs, for he was at that time deep in plans of invasion, and his correspondence with Hickes and the Bishop of Norwich points to them as accredited agents.[456] On the 24th of February, 1694, Hickes and Wagstaffe were admitted into the Episcopal order by the three deprived Bishops, and the ceremony took place in a private house in London, where the Bishop of Peterborough lodged, the Earl of Clarendon being present on the occasion.

Great care was taken by some of the Nonjurors to ascertain the number and circumstances of clergymen included within their party. It is the effect of such ecclesiastical divisions to bring into bonds of closest acquaintance those who agree upon some distinctive principle. Amongst the Baker MSS. is a document containing a long list of those who forfeited their preferment rather than take the new oath,[457] and among them the following names occur, with some indications of character and position appended:—

“Mr. Milner, Vicar of Leeds and Prebendary of Ripon, a very learned, worthy person, is thought well able to live; hath a son preferred to a good living in Sussex by the late Bishop of Chichester, his uncle, and a daughter yet unmarried. Mr. Yorke, one of the Vicars Choral of the Cathedral Church of York, and Curate of St. Belfrey’s, a sober, loyal person, and zealous for our Church. He hath a wife and child, but low in worldly circumstances; his losses might amount unto about £80 per annum.[376] Mr. Cressey, Vicar of Sheriff Hutton (of the yearly value of about £50), a gentleman well born, of good principles, and sober conversation; he married old Mr. Thinscrosse’s niece; hath with her two children; little to live on, save the charity of relations, and that Sir Henry Slingsbie at present retains him for his domestic chaplain. Mr. Winshup, Curate of Malton and Prebendary of York (his loss may be computed about £80); a very learned, good and brisk man; hath a wife but no child, and some pretty temporal estate, and, as I am told, is now at London, bending his studies towards the law; a great acquaintance of late Baron Ingleby. Mr. Symms, Rector of Langton (value about £80 per annum), a truly loyal and firmly-principled Church of England man; was lately imprisoned through malice, when the Papists were secured, the grief whereof (as thought) broke his wife’s heart, who was a devout gentlewoman; he hath a daughter, and may be an object worthy of compassion and charity. Mr. Holmes, Rector of Burstwicke and Vicar of Paul (value about £100 per annum), a gentleman of good family, (fellow-sufferer with Mr. Symms), sober and well deserving; hath a wife (who was Dr. Stone’s daughter of York) and many children, and now makes very hard shift to live. Mr. Rosse, Vicar of Scawby (valued at £40 per annum), a man of very good parts and learning, but given to excess of drinking, even to scandal, yet hath a wife and charge of children, and is an object of pity and charity (if he could be reformed), and very right in his principles. Mr. Mawburn, Minister of Crake, though within ours, yet of the jurisdiction of the Diocese of Durham; one who is master of too much learning, except he made better use of it, a great complier with all the designs of the late reign, and too scandalous in his conversation upon all accounts. I do not know of any charge he hath, nor what is[377] become of him, but his living was commonly reported about £100 per annum.”

Many other names are given, some reported as “poor,” others “not poor,” or “well to pass.”

The Nonjurors fixed their head-quarters in the Metropolis. There Kettlewell settled after leaving his incumbency. With all his ardour and decision he did not practically go so far as some of his brethren. He objected to the clergy attending parish churches, because, as he said, if only two or three joined them in private, they might canonically minister, and have Christ in the midst of them; but he did not object to the laity uniting in worship with clergymen who took the oaths. Upon examining the ground of this concession, however, we find it rests on the idea that the ministration of the ordained is essential to the Divine acceptance of social service, and the public devotion in which he allowed the laity to participate only consisted of common prayer on ordinary occasions, not of special prayer connected with national festivals.[458] He would in no way sanction the use of intercession for William and Mary, and was himself very particular in praying not only for King James, but in obeying the order issued before the Revolution, for supplications on behalf of the Prince of Wales. He reached, by a confused logical process, the high ecclesiastical ground, “that the determination of the Church of England, so solemnly given in her prayers, was on his side, and was so binding as it could not be reversed by a superior authority, or even reversed at all, without making the public voice of this Church to contradict itself.”[459] He pushed his views of the individual responsibility of clergymen—and, if I understand him aright, of laymen as well—to such an[378] extent that he reached a position of thorough independency, for he says, true and faithful pastors are not so strictly bound to keep up external unity and peace, as to maintain truth and righteousness and the unpolluted worship of the Church; and that however private persons are bound to use modesty and caution in following the “venerable ecclesiastical judicatories on earth, yet it is not any implicit dependence on men, or a blind obedience to any human sentence or decision whatsoever, but observance of the truth itself, and of what God hath in His Word decided, that must justify them in determining themselves whom they are to follow.”[460] This is the very protestantism of the Protestant Religion, the very dissidence of dissent, and it affords an example of the inconsistency which comes in the wake of circumstances, and of the odd way in which extremes meet. Kettlewell, in fact, had become a Nonconformist, and he justified himself only by arguments of the same description as those which other Nonconformists employ. From the same cause he was led to declare, there might be ground for breaking off from any Church without incurring schism, “there being some things not to be borne with, nor others to be parted with, for the sake of an external union;”[461] so far he made common cause with John Robinson and John Owen.

Kettlewell entered with sympathy into the poverty and sufferings of his brethren. They had many of them lost all, and this benevolent man, anxious to assuage their distress, drew up a plan for collecting and distributing a fund for their relief, directing inquiries as to the income and expenditure of the deprived, with a view to prevent impositions upon charity. He proposed that the Clergy in London, who had no business there, but remained only[379] because it was the best place for obtaining gifts, should be sent where they would be better maintained at less expense, and where they might make themselves of some service. Then, touching upon a notorious evil, he remarked, that others would then have no excuse for frequenting coffee-houses and hunting after benefactions, but would have time to promote their own improvement, and he advised those who sought relief, simply to note their sufferings, without making reflections.[462] He did not confine himself to sectarian charity, but sought also to promote the welfare of persons not of his own communion, of which a monument remained after his death, in a comprehensive trust, of which he was the founder.[463]

Kettlewell remained a Nonjuror to the last, and on his death-bed expressed his distinctive principles; but he did something better, and beautifully uttered the language of Christian hope.

He expired April the 12th, 1695, in London, and was buried in the parish church of All Hallows, near the Tower, in the same grave which had contained the remains of Archbishop Laud from his death till the Restoration. Ken was permitted by the Incumbent to read Evening Prayers on the occasion, and to attend in his episcopal robes to perform the burial service.

Kettlewell’s scheme of charitable relief received the sanction of the Nonjuring Bishops, who wrote a letter in its favour. The proceeding was laudable; yet such was the political antipathy to the Nonjurors by those in power, that Ken had to appear before the Privy Council to account for putting his name to the appeal; and of the interrogations he received and the answers he gave, there remains a report under his own hand.

Dodwell threw his whole soul into the Nonjuring cause, and continued on its behalf, after the schism had occurred, the advocacy he had undertaken at the beginning. His pen was busy with denunciations and encouragements; in private letters to those whom he suspected of timidity, he deplored the general apostacy from Church principles; described the apostates as pretending to the name of the Church of England, whilst acting on the principles of its adversaries; spoke of latitudinarian notions as tincturing those of the laity who were so warm for what they call liberty of conscience; and expressed his deep sorrow for what he considered vacillation and cowardice.

No multitude of apostates, he declared, could ever be pleaded as an authoritative example against a small number continuing firm. The doctrine and practice of these faithful Abdiels, he added, had been maintained by the Church in all the cases which had occurred from the beginning of the Reformation to that very day. In the case of Queen Mary and the Lady Jane Grey, in the case of Cromwell and King Charles II., nay, in the present case, and in opposition to republican adversaries. He believed there were few of these great lapsers but would, a few years before, have resented it, like Hazael, as a great calamity and scandal had they been charged with doing the things which they had since actually done.

He denounced all compliance, eschewed all compromise, and reprobated all “carnal politics;” warned against balancing expediency with conscience, and against seeking to promote Protestantism by a sacrifice of Church principles.[464] He set aside reasons for taking the oaths, by saying there is no cause so bad[381] but something may be said in its support, and by referring to Carneades’ Oration on Injustice, Burgess and Barnet’s Defence of Sacrilege, and the Hungarian’s Vindication of Polygamy. As an illustration of the lengths to which party spirit will carry people, I may cite the following passage from Dodwell’s vehement lucubration: “It is not a particular sect or opinion that we contend for, but the very being of a Church and of religion. Whether there shall be any faith that shall oblige to our own hindrance? Whether religion, which ought to add to its sacredness, shall be made a pretence for violating it? Whether our Holy Mother, the Church of England, which hath been famous for her loyalty, shall now be as infamous for her apostacy? Whether there be any understanding men who, in this incredulous age, can find in their hearts to venture the greatest worldly interest for their religion; that is, indeed, whether there be any that are in earnest with religion?”[465]

Yet Dodwell wrote from Shottesbrook, August 29th, 1700, to Archbishop Tenison, requesting him to use his influence in providing Bishops for the colonies. “The occasion of this present address,” he says, “is not to beg any favour for myself, nor for our dear fathers and brethren whom I follow in this excellent cause; it is for that very body which is headed by you against us, which, we hope, will at length unite with us on the old terms, when worldly concerns are removed. You have an opportunity put into your hands of doing God service in the plantations, and of entitling yourself thereby to greater rewards from God than you can expect from any of your worldly designs.” And in November of the same year I discover him corresponding with the same distinguished[382] person as to healing the Church’s wound. First, he despatched a feeler on the subject, which was civilly received, with a request for further communication, and then he propounded certain terms of recommunion. He thought the Clergy who had taken the oaths might agree with the Nonjurors so far as to maintain, in opposition to all Commonwealth’s-men, the doctrine of passive obedience “to the lawful Prince for the time being,” each party being left to apply the principle in his own way. As to the doctrine of the Church’s independency, he proposed there should be “expressions as full as possible disowning the validity of the Lay Act with regard to conscience, and protesting against what had been done in this matter as unfit to pass into a precedent.” As to prayers for the reigning family, so strongly objected to by Kettlewell, he did not regard them as obliging a separation. He took, he says in obscure language, the right of public offices to belong to governors who might bona fide differ in opinion from their subjects, and, notwithstanding, be included by them in their intercessions. He did not mean that men might own those opinions as true which they believed false, yet they might let them pass as the sense of the community of which they were members. At the beginning Dodwell suggested, if the reconciliation could be effected, that the remaining deprived Bishops should “hold their places, with a third part of the profits, without taking the oaths;” and in the end, “If you will do nothing on your part to qualify you for union with us, our fathers will have performed their part, and you alone must be answerable for the consequences of it.”[466]

Hickes, Suffragan Bishop of Thetford, resided in[383] Ormond Street, exerting an influence very different from that of Ken, Kettlewell, and Nelson; for whilst they kept aloof from political intrigues, he plunged deeply into the eddying whirlpool, and whilst they allowed the laity to attend parish churches, he denounced those who did so. He most absurdly maintained that even when no State prayers occurred in the service, simply to hold fellowship with schismatics—and such he denominated all except Nonjurors—was a flagrant betrayal of Christian principle.[467]

On another point he was at variance with Kettlewell. Hickes thought it lawful to wear a military disguise that he might escape detection, and once was introduced, in Kettlewell’s presence, as Captain or Colonel Somebody, for which a patriotic precedent was characteristically alleged, by quoting the case of a certain Bishop of old, who, amidst an Arian persecution, assumed a military title. Nor did Turner object to the practice of absconding under borrowed names. But against everything of this kind the severely truthful Kettlewell set his face like a flint, and would not have swerved a hair’s-breadth from the straightest line of honesty to save his life.[468]

Eccentric individuals might be found amongst those who, by Nonjuring sympathies, were drawn together in a city then, as now, containing social worlds, scarcely by any chance touching each other. Such precisians cut themselves off from general intercourse and form narrow-minded habits, which satisfy their own consciences, but provoke the ridicule of other people.

Amongst those who in William’s reign often met together and talked over the affairs of the deprived Clergy, occurs the name of Dr. Francis Lee—Rabbi Lee, as he[384] came to be called, because of his Jewish learning. He had been deprived of a fellowship at St. John’s College, Oxford, and after travelling abroad and practising as a physician in Venice for a couple of years, had returned to London in 1694, when he joined a company of Mystics, and married the prophetess of the sect—a wild sort of lady, who imagined that she received revelations from God and from angels, and had been taught by them the finite duration of future punishment. Besides this species of modern Montanism, Lee adopted peculiar opinions on other subjects, and published proposals to Peter the Great, Czar of Muscovy, for the better framing of his extensive government.[469]

No layman attained such a position amongst the Nonjurors as Robert Nelson, pupil of the Anglican Dr. George Bull, and friend of Dr. Mapletoft, who had been educated in the family of his great-uncle, Nicholas Farrer, of Gidding. He early imbibed influences favourable to the adoption of High Church views. His friendship with the Latitudinarian Archbishop Tillotson, and with the half-Puritan Bishop Kidder, might hold in check for awhile prior tendencies, but could not prevent their ultimately producing effect. His personal regard for Tillotson lasted till death; he held the Primate in his arms at the moment he expired; yet then all Nelson’s deference to his opinions had ceased, for from the crisis of the Revolution he had been a Nonjuring Jacobite. The conversion to Popery of his wife—an aristocratic widow, the Lady Theophila Lucy, who had become violently enamoured of his handsome person—did not incline him at all towards Rome, though it could not prove inimical to the development of his Catholic tendencies. Of his[385] intense devoutness and religious zeal there can be no doubt, nor of his respectable abilities; and the importance of such an accession to the new sect was heightened by other circumstances. No one can look at his portrait without admiring the taste of Lady Lucy. His fine features, set off to advantage by a good complexion and the adventitious decoration of a magnificent wig, must have given him an imposing presence. That presence was further aided by the taste and expensiveness of his apparel, to which should be added the recollection of his wealth and his aristocratic connections. Thus fitted to make his way in society, he naturally became amongst poor and persecuted people a commanding personage—an oracle with some, a counsellor with all. He associated with Lloyd; corresponded with Frampton; was acquainted with Ken; for Kettlewell he felt a warm attachment; Collier and Spinckes were numbered amongst his friends; and Hickes lived close neighbour to him in Ormond Street, Red Lion Fields.

In his previous residence at Blackheath Nelson wrote books by which he has become well known to posterity. Few may have heard of The Practice of True Devotion, which he anonymously published in 1698, or of his Exhortation to Housekeepers, which appeared in 1702; but a lasting fame has followed his Companion for the Festivals and Fasts, which issued from the press in 1704. Bodies of divinity, founded upon the Apostles’ Creed and upon the Thirty-Nine Articles, bearing distinguished names, were popular at the time, and books explanatory of Church offices had attained some reputation;[470] but no book aiming to explain[386] theological doctrine, through ecclesiastical associations, could vie with this in the extent of its immediate circulation. The design struck in with tendencies then beginning to unfold—not ritualistic in the modern acceptation of the term; but sacramental—in the way of frequent celebration of the Eucharist and a strict observance of sacred seasons. The production is pervaded with a cast of thought which, though pre-eminently cherished by Nonjurors, was not peculiar to them. Nelson believed that the Episcopal Church of England is the great conservator of orthodoxy; that her Prayer-Book is an unparalleled help to devotion; that Sacraments lie at the centre of Christianity; and that holy days are seasons of blessed revival. He wrote accordingly; and what he wrote was acceptable to members outside his own circle, not only on account of their sympathy with his Church views, but because there lay at the bottom of it this true idea, that theology should be the handmaid of devotion; that faith finds expression in worship; that religion is not a metaphysical idea, but a life which pours itself out in prayer and praise before God, and in justice and charity towards man. I must add, however, that the popularity of Nelson’s publication seems in some degree due to the patronage it received, the eulogiums pronounced upon it, and the means adopted by religious societies for its circulation. In a literary point of view it can pretend to little, if any merit. The form of question and answer, as bare as any catechism, gives it no attraction. The remarks are commonplace, without any attempt at illustration. For whatever learning may be found in its pages the reader is indebted not to Robert Nelson, but to Dr. Cave.

The book, prepared I presume at Blackheath, was published whilst Nelson lived in Ormond Street, where[387] he received the congratulations of his friends, especially of the Nonjurors, who naturally regarded the popularity of the work as a signal service to their cause.

Nonjuring circles in the Metropolis must often have been agitated by rumours of plots, real or imagined. In the saloons of Jacobite nobles, in the back rooms of city shops, in the garrets of Little Britain, stories would be whispered of preparations made for restoring the legitimate Sovereign. In the autumn of 1698 such tales reached the ears of the Duke of Shrewsbury’s Secretary. A Jacobite party had provided sixty horses: these were dispersed in Kent and about town, some in the hands of jockeys. They had engaged a Canterbury innkeeper to help onward their project, had raised a fund of above £1,000, were on the tiptoe of expectation, and only waited for a signal to mount their steeds and be off like the wind. So the Secretary heard, and, in connection with the retailing of all this talk, he stated, that he was on the point of apprehending a person who dealt in policies of insurance upon James’s restoration. He paid a guinea—so runs the letter—to receive fifty if the King or his son should reascend the throne by the following Michaelmas—certainly a strange scheme for promoting his return, since it became the interest of everyone who received the guinea to keep the Royal refugee away.[471]

Centres of Nonjuring influence and activity existed in the country. Shottesbrook Park, near Maidenhead, with its beautiful church of decorated Gothic, and its manor-house full of convenience and comfort—the home of Francis Cherry, a country gentleman, both handsome and accomplished, “the idol of Berkshire”—offered a[388] pleasant retreat for the deprived.[472] Many could be accommodated within the spacious Hall, for it contained not less than seventy beds; and the owner was as free in his hospitality as he was rich in his resources. His heart went with the exiled King, and a story is told to the effect that once, in a hunting-field, when closely pressed by William’s steed, he plunged into the Thames where the river was deep and broad, hoping that the piqued monarch might be induced to follow through the uncomfortable if not perilous passage. To Shottesbrook House, Robert Nelson often repaired. There the Nonjuror Charles Leslie found a welcome, and at a later period than this volume embraces, disguised in regimentals, when, in danger of apprehension, he obtained shelter in a neighbouring house until by Cherry’s help he made his escape, and set out to Bar-le-duc to attempt the conversion of the Pretender. Many a scene of excitement, many a flush of hope, many a flutter of fear, many a pang of disappointment must have occurred under the roof of the Shottesbrook squire, as persons deep in political intrigues met for conference. Bowdler, Nelson’s neighbour in Ormond Street, accompanied by his family, was a visitor to this spot; Brokesby, a deprived clergyman of Rowley, near Hull, found in it a resting-place; and the learned Prussian Lutheran, Dr. Grabe, who had come over to receive orders in the Episcopal Church, cultivated friendships at the agreeable mansion—convenient for him because not very far from Oxford, where treasures of learning excited his curiosity and increased his erudition. Hickes delighted in his company, and after his death compared him to a great and mighty prince, who, dying, leaves[389] behind many plans of noble and curious buildings, some half, some almost, and others entirely finished.[473] In the same place, there also resided the famous Henry Dodwell, whose views distinguished him from Kettlewell, and still more from Hickes. Entering into ecclesiastical subtleties, Dodwell would say “that if there had been a synodical deprivation of the orthodox and faithful fathers of the Church, however in itself unjust, yet the Clergy and laity ought to have complied with the greater obligation of owning the Episcopal College than with the less obligation of owning any particular Bishop.” In this respect he differed from Kettlewell, who would no more allow of a synodical than of a secular deprivation, making, as we have seen in reference to this question, individual conscientiousness the paramount rule of action. And further in the same line he differed from Kettlewell, for Kettlewell made the Church throughout subserve religion, but Dodwell made religion subserve the Church.[474] Dodwell was really in principle a higher Churchman, though in practice lower, than Kettlewell—much lower than Hickes; for Hickes would not attend parish worship at all, and Kettlewell discountenanced it in the Clergy; but Dodwell would join in morning and evening prayer, childishly satisfying his scruples when the name of the reigning Sovereign occurred by sliding off his knees and sitting down on the hassock. It is amusing to notice the methods of protest against prayers for the reigning family adopted by Nonjurors. Some rose from their knees and stood up in the face of the congregation; some shut their books; some turned over the leaves so as to make a noise; some satisfied themselves by declining to say Amen, or by mentally substituting the[390] names of the exiled Stuarts. Dodwell, whilst living with Mr. Cherry, had a remarkable pupil in Thomas Hearne, who was patronized by the generous host, supported at his cost, and prepared at his expense for the University, as if he had been his own son. Hearne, as we are informed on his own authority, was instructed “in the true principles of the Church of England”—an expression we can easily understand; and we learn from the same source how busily the incipient archæologist engaged at Shottesbrook in studies and work subsidiary to literary schemes carried on by the eminent Nonjurors there congregated together.[475]

Within a few miles of Frome, in Somersetshire, stands Longleat House, a palatial abode, surrounded by gardens, in the midst of a wooded park, worthy of the beauty and magnificence of the mansion. Just outside the park paling rises the old church of Horningsham, and hard by is a little Dissenting meeting-house, the most ancient in our island. The place is not above twenty miles from Wells, and part of the domain comes within the diocese. There the most eminent and the most admirable of Nonjurors, Thomas Ken, took up his abode, at the request of Lord Weymouth, the possessor of Longleat; and if social gatherings like those of Shottesbrook did not occur there, the residence of the Prelate rendered it a source of the purest Nonjuring influence. He occupied a room at the top of the house, removed from the noise and bustle of an English hall, “open to all comers of fashion and quality.” Surrounded by his large library, “he wrote hymns, and sang them to his viol, and prayed, and died.”[476] The most popular of all his sacred lays—the Morning[391] and Evening Hymns—were composed on the top of a hill, which, from the prospect it commands through a break in the woods, is well known throughout the neighbourhood by the beautiful name of “the Gate of Heaven.”

Whether he attended the services at the parish church is matter of controversy. One of his biographers thinks that up to the accession of Queen Anne he enjoyed, in Lord Weymouth’s private chapel, “the privilege of pure services, without alloy of the State prayers;” but it is added, “During his visits to his nephew at Poulshot, or when he was in other places where he could not find any Nonjuring assembly, we may conclude, from what he himself says, that, rather than be debarred the solace of Christian communion, he went to church.”[477] At all events, Ken was distressed at the idea of perpetuating schism; he had no sympathy with the spirit of Hickes; though he allowed excuses for clandestine consecration, he declared his own judgment to be against them; and though his scruples compelled him to retire from his bishopric, he longed earnestly for the reunion of the Church.

Ken survived King William some years, but two of the Nonjuring Prelates, in addition to those already deceased, expired before the Sovereign whose rights they would not acknowledge.

White, Bishop of Peterborough, died in 1698. Bishop Turner sent to the Dean of St. Paul’s to bury the deceased Bishop in St. Gregory’s churchyard; the Dean had it intimated to him “that any clergyman conformable to the Church and Government might bury him.” “Bishop Turner, who was one that carried up the pall, with thirty or forty more of the Clergy, and some few laymen, attended him from the house where he died, and[392] being come into the churchyard almost as far as the grave, they espied Mr. Standish, one of the Minor Canons, in his surplice, ready to read the office. At the sight of him they immediately made a halt, and, after they had conferred amongst themselves a little while, all the Clergy opened on each side to let the corpse pass along to the grave, and went, every one of them, back again, so that only two or three of the laity stayed to see him interred. It seems the party renounced all manner of communion with any person conformable to the Church and Government.”[478] I have already pointed out that there were two classes of Nonjurors: the practically moderate, represented by Ken and others, even indeed by Dodwell—and the extreme, represented by Hickes; and it is apparent that the persons who attended White’s funeral were of the latter description, and would not in any way hold fellowship with any but their own party.

In the month of November, 1700, the Bishop who attended that funeral followed his episcopal brother into the invisible world. Turner was very poor—“in very needy circumstances,” says Bishop Nicholson, “having a large family, and no support out of the common bank of charity.” He lived in extreme retirement, and was buried in the chancel of Therfield Church, Hertford, where he had once been rector, a single word only being inscribed on the stone which covered his mortal remains, but that word most expressive—Expergiscar.

Samuel Pepys, who lost his official appointment upon the accession of William and Mary, and consequently at that time retired into private life, wearied in his last days with[393] cares and jaded with pleasures, sought relief in the duties of religion, and inquired through Nelson for a spiritual adviser. Nelson’s reply to his request throws a curious light upon the circumstances of the Nonjurors’ condition: “After the strictest inquiry, I find none of our Clergy placed in your neighbourhood nearer than Mitcham, where lives one Mr. Higden, a very ingenious person, who married the late Lord Stowell’s sister; but I believe you may have one with greater ease from London, by reason of the conveniency of public conveyances. Our friend, Dean Hickes, is at present at Oxford; but if you will be pleased whenever your occasions require it to send to Mr. Spinckes, who has the honour of being known to you, he will be sure to wait upon you, and take such measures that you may always be supplied whenever you stand in need of such assistance. He lodges at a glazier’s in Winchester Street, near London Wall.”[479]

Pepys died in the summer of 1703, and, in a letter to Dr. Charlett, Hickes described the services he rendered the dying man, and the effect which they produced upon him.

Some Jacobites who took the oaths with certain qualifications repented afterwards, and openly threw in their lot with such as refused to swear. One of them drew up a penitential confession, in which, with morbid conscientiousness, he dwelt upon what he called his sinful compliance. Acknowledgment after acknowledgment of minute particulars, expanded in terms which magnified each, occurs in the document, closing with the reiterated prayer: “I accuse, and judge, and condemn myself: God be merciful to me a penitent!” Retraction was accompanied by a petition to the ejected Bishop, in which the writer exclaims: “Blessed Jesu! though I cannot now glory[394] in my not having fallen, yet I will take all the shame of my fall to myself, that I may give Thee glory; and though I cannot now rejoice in my innocence, I desire to cause joy in heaven (and if Thou pleasest, many penitents on earth) by my repentance.”[480] No one who is at the trouble of perusing this tedious composition can doubt the sincerity of the writer, but nobody of common sense can fail to perceive his weakness, not to speak of the mischief he did to morality and religion by exaggerations of minor casuistical points. For though this man mentions his “first dismal step of taking the sacred name of God in vain,” he does not dwell upon the sin of perjury, but expatiates upon the wickedness of having connived at, though he never used, the prayers introduced at the Revolution.

Another clergyman did what was still more astonishing: he publicly retracted his oath, and preached upon the words: “I have sinned greatly in that I have done; and now, I beseech Thee, O Lord, take away the iniquity of Thy servant; for I have done very foolishly,” at the same time he exhorted his congregation to renew their allegiance to James, for whom, as the King of England, and for his family, he publicly prayed. Such an act was downright rebellion, and no wonder the man got into trouble. Being tried for his offence, he was sentenced to stand in the pillory and to pay a fine of £200; but the Government wisely treated him as a lunatic, and offered a pardon if he would confess his fault. This he declined to do; consequently he remained in confinement.

Not only did other clergymen retract compliance, but a layman who had qualified himself for office by taking the oaths, solemnly, on his death-bed, in the presence of witnesses, signed a declaration of penitence. The political[395] feeling mixed up with the confession is plain, and all these people, while professing the utmost piety, proved themselves to be unfaithful subjects.

The political views of the Nonjurors were narrow in the extreme, and though to be irreligious was a thing they dreaded most of all, their views of the State were of a very irreligious kind. They took away from it all moral and religious life, and if they consistently followed out their own theory, they took away all conscience from the subjects of a legitimate and anointed King. Their system exalted such a person to the highest point of favour, and degraded the people to the lowest step of slavery. Denuding them of political rights, they denied them political duties, and annihilated all their political responsibilities. In the death-blow aimed at popular power, morality and religion, in reference to political life, were blindly smitten. Yet whilst their creed only left scope for patience in suffering, numbers of them did not practice this patience, but were everlastingly plotting a counter-revolution. To them the State appeared as an instrument in the hands of the Church—to be controlled for its use, to afford revenues for its support, to supply means for the enforcement of its laws. The civil power, according to their theory, has been described as “a body constituted, it would seem, of three principal elements—an absolute king, money-bags, and a hangman.”[481] It must be said, to the credit of the Nonjurors, that however slavishly loyal to an absolute king, they showed an indifference to the “money-bags” and a contempt for the “hangman”—a fact worthy of imitation by some who entertain a different theory from them.

To Sancroft, the Nonjurors, the ecclesiastical Tories[396] of the period, and all men of that stamp who clung to the notion of the divine right of kings, may be applied the remark: “The great crises in the history of nations have often been met by a sort of feminine positiveness and a more obstinate reassertion of principles which have lost their hold upon a nation. The fixed ideas of a reactionary politician may be compared to madness. He grows more and more convinced of the truth of his notions as he becomes more isolated, and would rather await the inevitable than in any degree yield to circumstances.”[482]

The Nonjuring movement took a narrow and troublesome political form, yet, notwithstanding all we have said, it was animated by an intensely religious spirit. This movement did not proceed from any principle founded upon reason, observation, or experience, but from a theological dogma about the divine right of kings, and the consequent duty, religious as it appeared to them, that subjects should unresistingly obey the Lord’s annointed. The scheme tended to the political enslavement of the country; it sapped the liberties of our constitution; yet it appears to have been an honest endeavour—prejudiced and ignorant, still an honest endeavour—to serve God: one of a multitude of instances in which false opinions have perverted true sentiments, and good motives have given sincerity and disinterestedness to bad actions. No philosophy of history, but one so wretchedly narrow as to forfeit all title to the name, will deny the co-existence of right and wrong in the same men, however hard it may be to untie the knot between them.

High Church theology of the Thorndike type had no adequate representative amongst the Nonjurors. They[397] included no one of intellectual mark. Bull, the most distinguished scholar and the ablest divine of the old Anglican school, remained in the Establishment; so did all the chief theologians who leaned in the same direction with him. But High Church sentiment of the Laudean order, and such as belonged to Cosin and Seth Ward, drained off almost entirely into Nonjuring channels. The Nonjurors also went beyond their predecessors in this respect. They cast off all the Erastian trammels which were willingly worn by the Bishops of the Restoration.

Gladly would the Nonjurors have wrought out a method of parochial discipline which would have kept in order not merely such religionists as agreed in their views, but the population at large, reducing everybody to a Procrustean bed of belief and practice. No Presbyterians under the Commonwealth could have been more rigorous apostles of uniformity than the Nonjurors would have proved, had they but obtained permission to do as they pleased. They would have gone beyond their predecessors; for though Milton says presbyter is priest writ large, a mere presbyter has not the same element of despotic force at his command as is possessed by the genuine priest. The priest, as a steward of mystical sacraments, becomes more potent than preacher or pastor. He is constituted lord of a domain beyond the borders of reason and moral authority; he carries keys which open and shut what the superstitious imagine to be gates of heaven. The Nonjurors were priests, not with limitations, like some of their episcopalian brethren, but out and out. Their ministers offered sacrifice upon an altar, they did not merely commemorate one at the Lord’s-table. Laymen imbibed their views—they were maintained by Robert Nelson.[483]

As to modes of worship, the Nonjurors were in circumstances which precluded ritualistic magnificence. They were proscribed, as Nonconformist confessors had been, and therefore were forced to serve God in obscurity. Cathedrals and churches were closed against them—they were driven into barns and garrets. Pomp, such as is now so fashionable, was to them an impossibility; not that I find them manifesting any cravings in that direction. They did not follow Archbishop Laud. High sacramental views are by no means necessarily connected with Ritualism. Ritualism may be purely æsthetical, and quite separate from peculiar doctrinal opinions; at the same time a belief in the Real presence and in the Sacrifice of the Lord’s Supper may wear an outward form not more artistic than that which obtains in a Dissenting meeting-house.[484]

With all the political and ecclesiastical passions of that age, there existed comparatively little of what may be properly called religious excitement. The principal amount of religious excitement in the reign of William III. must not be sought in the Established Church, or amongst Presbyterians, Independents, or Baptists. It must be divided between Nonjurors and Quakers. Dismissing the latter for the present, it may be said that the former exhibited abundant enthusiasm. Hickes was as much a spiritual fanatic as any of the Presbyterian army chaplains, or any of Cromwell’s troopers. Some who reviled the madness of the sects during the Civil Wars and the[399] Commonwealth, were as mad themselves after the Revolution. Of that kind of devout fervour, which though not healthy is free from worldliness, and which draws its main inspirations from the world to come, Kettlewell is a fair example. In intensity of religious feelings, he resembled a staunch Methodist of the eighteenth century.

The last ten years of the seventeenth century witnessed the consolidation of Dissent. Growing in confidence, Dissenters made bolder ventures. If some old congregations melted away in villages, where an ejected clergyman had worn out his days, or where the original supporters had died without bequeathing their opinions, together with their property, new congregations were formed in towns, where population gave scope for activity, and social freedom aided religious effort. Preachers with a roving commission settled down into local pastors, and a spirit of enterprise appeared in building places of worship. Nonconformists had for some time amidst hindrance and irritation been digging again the wells of their fathers, stopped by the Philistines; but the days of strife were so far over that they could say: “Now the Lord hath made room for us, and we shall be fruitful in the land;” yet such names as Rehoboth and Beersheba, so often ridiculed, were not used by them as by some of their descendants of later date.

As to the erection of religious edifices in London, it may be mentioned that about the era of the Revolution one was erected in Zoar Street, another in Gravel Lane, and a third in Hare Court.[485] The neglected Halls of City[401] Companies had become available for Dissenting worship, and by economical alterations were transformed into houses of prayer. Turners’ Hall fell into the hands of the General Baptists about the year 1688; soon afterwards the Presbyterians erected “a large substantial brick building of a square form, with four deep galleries, and capable of seating a considerable congregation.”[486] Chapels, as we should call them—but the name was not used by the early Nonconformists—arose in Fair Street, Southwark; in Meeting-house Court, Blackfriars; in the Old Barbican, beyond Aldersgate; and over the King’s Weigh-House, Little Eastcheap. At the end of the century, the Presbyterians provided a moderate-sized wooden building with one gallery in King John’s Court, in the parish of St. Mary Magdalen, Bermondsey. About the same period, the Independents provided a place of worship in Rosemary Lane; and soon afterwards a large and substantial edifice was built by Presbyterians in the Old Jewry, Aldgate. It is remarkable that, after the Act of Toleration had been passed some years, liberty seemed of so precarious a nature, that to enjoy it concealment was necessary. Private houses, therefore, were in this case erected between the meeting-house and the street, that the former might be screened from public view.[487]

Nonconformists in the provinces imitated Nonconformists in London. Bath, then at the head of English watering-places, though still a city much occupied by clothiers, had a congregation which before had been wont to meet in “a shear-shop,” but now dared to come into open day, and to build in Frog Lane, afterwards New Bond Street. In the pleasant neighbourhood of Shepton Mallet, people who had assembled in the[402] green woods now erected chapels in the town and adjacent villages. The Warminster people raised a meeting-house at the cost of £487 2s. 7d., the sum being obtained partly by subscription and partly by the sale of pews and seats, which became the property of the purchasers, and were accordingly sold and bequeathed.[488]

Turning to midland counties, we find that at Nottingham—where Nonconformists had met in rock cellars such as honeycombed the sand formation, and are now formed into a cemetery—Presbyterians registered rooms in Bridlesmith Gate, and the Independents sought shelter in Postern Place. A few months after William’s accession, the former set to work upon a meeting-house in the High Pavement, and the latter cautiously attempted a smaller edifice at Castlegate. Little leaded windows admitted light through diamond panes; two pillars sprang from the floor to support the ceiling; stairs rising within led up to a small front gallery; a sounding-board covered the pulpit; and square pews, with other accommodation, provided for about 450 people.[489]

At Chester a new edifice, still in existence, carefully[403] preserved, and not long ago tastefully restored, cost £532 16s. 1d. It was opened in August, 1700, when Matthew Henry preached from a text indicating an apologetic spirit for what was thought a daring enterprise: “The Lord God of Gods, the Lord God of Gods, He knoweth, and Israel He shall know, if it be in rebellion, or if it be in transgression against the Lord, that we have built us an altar.”

At Daventry, in Northamptonshire, Dissent made a humble advance, but under circumstances so interesting as to deserve notice. The origin of the church there forms one of the legends which in the following century became dear to many. When Charles II. was on the throne, it happened that a minister put up on his way to London at the sign of the Old Swan. He was taken ill and detained for more than a week, during which period the host and his family paid him kind attentions and completely won his heart. The traveller, restored to health, summoned into his room the kind-hearted people, thanked them for their great civility, and expressed his satisfaction at the order maintained in the house—an exceptional instance in days when hostelries were given over to unrestrained indulgence and boisterous merriment. He added: “Something leads me to suspect there is not the fear of God among you, and it grieves me to see such honest civility, economy, and decency, and yet religion wanting—the one thing needful.” He entered into conversation, and closed by telling them he had in his saddlebag a little book, which he begged them to accept, requesting that they would carefully read it. Having presented them with Baxter’s Poor Man’s Family Book, he went on his way without telling them who he was, nor did they ever ascertain his name, but they felt a suspicion the stranger was no other than Baxter himself. The result[404] of reading this and other works by the same author was that the innkeeper and some of his family became Nonconformists. Weary of his mode of life and having acquired a competence, he retired to a house having a close behind it, at the extremity of which stood some humble outbuildings. These after the Revolution he converted into a legalized meeting-house. His neighbours came, a congregation was established, and a pastor chosen.

Places of worship were put in trust. Presbyterians drew up their deeds in general terms, not enumerating articles of faith or referring to any ecclesiastical standard. In many cases, Congregational edifices were secured in a similar way, some schedule being annexed to the deed, declaring that the structure should be used by such Protestants in the neighbourhood as could not conform to the established religion. Whatever might be the policy ruling the arrangement, the selection of ministers, and the character of their preaching, in numerous cases still easily ascertained, betrayed no indifference as to what is esteemed orthodoxy of sentiment.[490]

Energies which resisted persecution did not expire in the midst of freedom, although Bishop Burnet predicted “that Nonconformity could not last long, and that after Baxter, Bates, and Howe were laid in their graves, it would die of itself.” The last of these, on hearing the prophecy, remarked to the Bishop, “that its existence depended much more on principles than persons”—an opinion verified by subsequent facts.

The Presbyterians formed the largest, and, in point of social position, the most respectable branch of English Nonconformists in the reign of William. What most[405] indicated their persistency and hope is discovered in their numerous ordinations. Down to the time of the Revolution they had been privately conducted. Just as the Prince of Orange was being driven back to his native shores by untoward storms, a young man named Joseph Hussey, who had been preaching for eight years, sought the rite from the hands of Dr. Annesley and other Presbyterians. Not in the meeting-house of Little St. Helen’s did the parties dare to assemble, but at the Doctor’s “private dwelling in Spitalfields, in an upper chamber.” There, on the 24th of October, 1688, the candidate, as he himself reports, was examined “in the parts of learning by the Elder, who took the chair and spoke in Latin.” The next day he defended a thesis against the Papacy. Upon the 26th he was ordained. The proceedings were begun and finished within the same chamber, in a neighbourhood then losing the last vestiges of rural life under the encroachments of weavers, driven from France by the revocation of the Edict of Nantes.[491] As another instance of the privacy of Nonconformist services, I would mention that the Lord’s Supper was not publicly celebrated in the new chapel in Leeds until the month of October, 1692.[492]

Ordinations emerged from private habitations when, in September, 1689, five ministers were ordained by Oliver[406] Heywood and four of his brethren, after a notice had been given that the service would be held in the meeting-house at Alverthorpe, “to which whoever had a desire might repair.” One of the candidates stood behind a chair, and poured out a Latin discourse, which seemed to be extempore, but which Heywood believed to be memoriter, upon the validity of Presbyterian orders. This person behaved in an extraordinary manner the next day, for he was seen “walking in a lane, reading a book,” whilst the ordaining ministers were waiting for his appearance. After he had arrived, and had given in his confession, “running through the whole body of Divinity, according to Mr. Baxter’s Methodus Theologiæ, we proceeded,” says Heywood, “to setting the candidates apart. I came down, and there being a void space made, we made them kneel down, one by one, while we all prayed over them.” This was succeeded by the imposition of hands, the delivery of a Bible, the grasp of fellowship, a charge to the ordained, and a sermon to the congregation. The ministers assembled at eight o’clock, waited till ten for the eccentric youth, and did not terminate the service before five in the afternoon, when a dinner followed, at the charge of the ordained.

Another service occurred in 1690, with accompaniments still more unseemly, the misbehaviour now being on the part of ordainers. The service took place at Rathmel in Yorkshire. Oliver Heywood and other Presbyterians came to share in the solemnity with two Independent ministers. Strange as it appears, those who thus met had not agreed what should be done; and one of the Independents, as Heywood reports, urged objections which the Presbyterians undertook to answer. He objected, amongst other things, that messengers from neighbouring churches were not present, and that the minister in this[407] case would not be, as he ought, ordained in the midst of the congregation he intended to serve. Both the Independents were desired to pray, but they refused, “and sat by the whole day taking no part in the proceedings.” The service, however, was decorously enough conducted by the Presbyterians, who, touching the heads of the candidates, offered prayer, and after presenting a Bible, gave the right hand of fellowship. Heywood preached to the candidates and to the people, and the whole ended with singing and prayer. If anybody had wished to prejudice orderly people against Nonconformity, he could not have followed a more effectual method than we find pursued by Independents on this occasion.

A few Presbyterians attempted to revive synodical action, and a meeting with that view at Newbury created much stir—displeasing Nonconformists, who regarded it as injudicious, and provoking Churchmen, who urged it was unjust. Convocation remained in shackles; why, then, should Presbyterian Synods be free?[493] This question was asked, in forgetfulness of the obvious difference relative to the state of voluntary churches on the one hand, and endowed churches on the other.

As ministers could not continue by reason of death, it became necessary to reinforce the ranks. One young[408] student of honourable descent made his appearance in public life at this juncture. Edmund Calamy—grandson of the Divine of the same name, who had been Incumbent of Aldermanbury—after studying in Holland, where he had accumulated stores of Dutch theology, returned to his native land, and went down to Oxford, where he devoted himself to the study of the question, whether he should enter the Church, or continue his lot with Dissenters? Certainly if anybody ever gave himself to the investigation of the subject, young Edmund did—for, first, he studied the Bible; then he read several of the Fathers, with all sorts of critical helps; then he perused Pearson, on the Ignatian Epistles, as well as Monsieur Daillé and Larroque on the other side; then he betook himself to the examination of Chillingworth’s Religion of Protestants, which he carefully epitomized; then he attacked Hooker’s Ecclesiastical Polity, and went through it book by book, setting down the arguments with such remarks as they suggested; then he turned to Jeremy Taylor’s Ductor Dubitantium, dealing with this as he had done with the rest; and, lastly, with care he read over the Articles, Liturgy, Homilies, and Canons of the Church of England.[494] Such an amount of reading for the settlement of opinion was very well for a youth of twenty-one, and, making allowance for a bias derived from family traditions and from the ugly memories of 1662, we must credit him with candour in looking at the subject on all sides. According to his own account, his reading was chiefly in favour of Episcopacy; yet his conclusion was decidedly in favour of Nonconformity. The Nonconformity which he adopted, however, was moderate; it shrunk neither from Episcopal orders, Liturgical worship, nor the Establishment[409] principle, but from certain things enforced by the Church of England. He tells us himself that he would have received ordination at the hands of a Bishop, “could he have found anyone that would not have demanded a subscription and engagement to conformity, and a subjection to the present ecclesiastical government.”[495]

It is remarkable to find how much this young man engaged in preaching when he had made up his mind upon ecclesiastical points. He occupied pulpits wherever they were open. He seems to have been welcomed everywhere—now officiating at the opening of a meeting-house, and once at least preaching in a parish church.[496] He had conflicting invitations. He describes a visit to Andover, where the meeting-house was in a back yard, through which he had to pass, the people making a lane for him and presenting their acknowledgments for his good sermon; and how he found the parlour full of men, women, and children—amongst them was a grave old woman with a high-crowned hat, who thanked him civilly for his pains, telling him she thought a special Providence had sent such a shepherd to such neglected sheep. The conversation, however, as it went on proved less and less satisfactory, since it turned out that these Andover folks were divided into parties, the old lady’s Calvinistic sentiments being loftier even than her steeple headgear.[497] Calamy travelled down to Bristol, the great Nonconformist stronghold in the west, to preach to a congregation of 1,500 people, and was met at Bath by a couple of gentlemen, “with a man and horse,” to conduct him to his destination. Upon the road others came to welcome the stranger, like the brethren who met Paul at Appii-Forum, and brought him[410] on his way “in a manner very respectful.” Many of the congregation were wealthy, and they offered him £100 a year and a house to live in, as assistant to their infirm pastor. But, upon returning to London, Calamy decided on accepting an invitation to assist Mr. Sylvester upon an allowance of £40 per annum.[498] He had there the counterbalancing advantage of mixing in the best Nonconformist society. He spent many an evening at the house of Dr. Upton, in Warwick-court, where he met his colleague and Mr. Lorimer, Mr. John Shower, Mr. Nathaniel Taylor, Mr. Thomas Kentish, Mr. Nathaniel Oldfield—names now little known, but celebrities in their own day. Other ministerial meetings were kept up in Dr. Annesley’s vestry, Little St. Helen’s, where once a month Latin disputations took place. Whilst thus engaged, Calamy remained unordained. Desirous of this rite, he successively requested Howe and Bates to take part in it. But no public ordination had yet been held within the city precints. Howe at first seemed pleased with the proposal, but afterwards demurred, saying he must wait upon Lord Somers, and inquire whether such a proceeding would not be taken ill at Court. Bates decidedly declined, and continued to do so for reasons he would not communicate. Matthew Mead was indirectly asked, but begged to be excused, because, as an Independent, he feared he might offend some of his brethren by joining in a Presbyterian ordination. The whole of the transaction is enveloped in mystery; perhaps Bates had not given up all hopes of a comprehension, and thought a public ordination might bar the way to it; perhaps he had given some pledge not to engage in any such service; perhaps Howe was not quite free from similar determents, and both might for[411] personal reasons be unwilling to do what they had no objection should be done by others. My own impression is that both, especially Howe, clung with tenacity to the idea of one united church in England, and though they had little hope of seeing the idea turned into fact, they shrunk from a service like public ordination as perpetuating a separation they would fain have seen come to an end.

At length Calamy and six others were publicly set apart to the ministry, at Dr. Annesley’s meeting-house, by the Doctor himself, Vincent Alsop, of Princes Street, Westminster, Daniel Williams, pastor at Hand Alley, Bishopsgate Street, Richard Stretton, of Haberdashers’ Hall, Matthew Sylvester, of Carter Lane, and Thomas Kentish of the Weigh-House. Annesley began with prayer; Alsop preached; Williams, after another prayer, delivered a second sermon; then he read the testimonials in favour of the candidates; next each of them delivered a profession of faith; and then, one after another, different ministers prayed; Sylvester followed with a charge, and concluded with a psalm and a prayer.[499] The service lasted from before ten o’clock until past six.

As vacancies in Nonconformist pastorates occurred, successors had to be appointed; and it is amusing to meet in the Diaries of the day, cross lights thrown upon the choice of ministers. The famous antiquarian Thoresby was in 1693 a leading member of the old Dissenting Church at Leeds. When deprived of its excellent instructor, Mr. Sharp, “we had several meetings to consult in order to the choice of a successor. I had the usual hap of moderators, to displease both the extremes. In the interim I wrote to several ministers to supply his place. We rode to Ovenden, and made our first application to[412] Mr. Priestly, a person of moderate principles, learned, ingenious, and pious; but the people about Halifax and Horton could not be prevailed upon to resign their interest in him, without which he was not willing to desert them. I afterwards rode with some of the people to Pontefract, to solicit Mr. Manlove, who was at first very compliant, yet after relapsed, but in the conclusion accepted the call and removed to Leeds.”[500]

Glimpses are caught of meeting-house politics. Thoresby received from his cousin a discouraging account of Mr. Manlove; but when this candidate visited the people, Thoresby found an unanimous desire for the man’s coming, testified by proffered subscriptions.[501] After this person’s settlement at Leeds, the love of Thoresby towards him and the old Dissent began to cool. His archæological pursuits brought him into the society of ecclesiastical dignitaries, and he frequently attended the parish church. By degrees his sympathy with Episcopalians deepened; he received the sacrament with them—a proceeding which offended old friends, and produced alienation. Attracted on the one side and repelled on the other, after hanging for awhile in suspense between the opposite communities, he found himself drawn into the bosom of the Establishment. The Corporation elected him one of their fraternity, and not long afterwards we find him saying: “I received a most comfortable letter from my Lord Archbishop of York, answering many objections against my Conformity, and gave me great satisfaction.”[502]

Fallings-off from Dissent happened in one place, accessions occurred in another. A clergyman, named Michael[413] Harrison, who had usually preached at the church in Caversfield, gathered a congregation of Dissenters at Potterspury, near Stony Stratford, and died a Nonconformist minister at St. Ives.[503] Amidst the reproaches of High Churchmen at the growth of Dissent, from Low Churchmen there were received expressions of goodwill. Hough, Vicar of Halifax, stepped into Heywood’s new place of worship at Northowram, and putting off his hat, exclaimed: “The good Lord bless the Word preached in this place!”[504]

The education of boys, and the theological training of those designed for the ministry, were matters of great anxiety during the reigns of Charles II. and James II., and afterwards received increasing attention.

Seminaries for Dissenters did not in the seventeenth century attain the dignified title of colleges. They were schools where youths were educated for secular vocations, and only by degrees did they become the resort of candidates for the ministry. There was no trust-deed, no constituency, no council, but the entire management rested with the person responsible for opening the institution. In the romantic district of Craven, Richard Frankland, a learned ejected minister, received pupils, but the Five-Mile Act drove him to Attercliffe. First and last he educated three hundred youths for the professions of law and of medicine, and for the work of the Christian ministry.

Archbishop Sharpe was requested by some of the Clergy to prevent Frankland from proceeding in his labours. He consulted Tillotson as to the best method of procedure, and received from him this reply: “His instructing young men in so public a manner in University learning is contrary to his oath to do, if he hath taken a degree in either of our Universities, and I doubt, contrary to the Bishop’s oath to grant him a licence for doing it; so that your Grace does not, in this matter, consider him at all as a Dissenter. This I only offer to your Grace as what seems to me the fairest and softest way of ridding your hands of this business.” To explain this advice, it is proper to remark, that in the Middle Ages, factions arose at Oxford and Cambridge, and hosts of students, under some favourite professors, would march off to Northampton or Stamford to set up rival schools and grant degrees. Hence an oath came to be required of the University graduates, that in no other places than in the favoured retreats on the Isis and the Cam would they ever establish a scholastic lecture. It was in harmony with Tillotson’s characteristic wariness to give such counsel, but it is hardly worthy of his reputation for gentleness and Catholicity to put the disconcerted Prelate up to the trick of masking the batteries of intolerance under the specious cover of obsolete precedents.

It should be added, that Archbishop Sharpe behaved very courteously to Frankland throughout this unpleasant business;[505] and also that other Dissenting tutors in different ways were hindered by the opposition of Churchmen.

Two other academies sprung out of Richard Frankland’s—one at Attercliffe under the superintendence of[415] Timothy Jollie, another at Manchester under the care of John Chorlton. In the old town of Shrewsbury, Francis Tallents established a seminary about the time of the Revolution. At Taunton, Matthew Warren educated several young gentlemen for the pastorate and for secular occupations. So did Samuel Birch at an earlier period in Shilton. Joshua Oldfield also kept a school at Coventry. John Woodhouse, of Sheriff Hales, Shropshire; George Burden, of Somersetshire; Edmund Thorpe, of Sussex; Joseph Bennet, of the same county; and Josiah Bassett, of Warwickshire, may be added to the list of Nonconformist schoolmasters at different dates, between the ejectment and the end of the century.

The Metropolis drew towards it several learned men in this capacity, and Newington Green became “the favourite seat of the Dissenting Muses.” There the learned Theophilus Gale, and the less known but erudite and able Charles Morton, educated a number of young men. Edward Veal had a school at Stepney, and Samuel Wesley, after having been a pupil of Veal’s, became a student under Morton. Violent opposition to the Established Church is said to have been fostered under Veal’s roof, and this young man, who possessed a lively poetical talent, answered invectives against Dissent by invectives against the Church, until, from some cause which has been differently explained, he abandoned Nonconformity, and one August morning in 1683, with forty-five shillings in his pocket, walked all the way to Oxford, and entered himself as a servitor of Exeter College. Samuel Wesley, in a letter published in the year 1703, reflected upon the Dissenting academies, and afterwards defended what he said in a reply to Mr. Palmer. Much bitterness appeared in Wesley’s pamphlet, and he was accused of ingratitude for assailing institutions, to one of which he had been[416] indebted for a gratuitous education. Palmer vindicated the academies from the charge brought against them; but, by a curious coincidence, he like Wesley gave up all connection with Dissent, and obtained the living of Maldon, in Essex.

Thomas Doolittle, of Pembroke Hall, Cambridge, and Thomas Vincent, of Christ Church, Oxford, united in conducting, until within a short time before his death in 1708, an academy at Islington. Thither Philip Henry sent his son Matthew, and immediately after his arrival the young man wrote to his sisters, informing them that in his tutor’s meeting-house “there are several galleries. It is all pewed, and a brave pulpit a great height above the people,” adding, in the same letter: “I perceive that Mr. Doolittle is very studious and diligent, and that Mrs. Doolittle and her daughter are very fine and gallant.” During Matthew Henry’s stay at Islington he pursued a course of reading which bore upon the Christian ministry, but when he left that place he studied law for a time at Gray’s Inn, although it does not appear that he ever thought of entering the legal profession. The fact is, that the elder educated Nonconformists of that day valued all kinds of learning, and were anxious that their children, especially if designed for the ministry, should traverse the widest curriculum of study. Further, it may be mentioned that Ralph Button, fellow and tutor of Merton, Oxford, who died in 1680, conducted another academy at Islington.

Dissenting academies could not resemble national Universities. A variety of professors, extensive libraries, aristocratic society were beyond their reach, and polite literature and the graces of composition were but little cultivated. Too much time was given to the study of dead languages—a mistake, indeed, shared by the Universities.[417] A keen observer, Daniel De Foe, noticed this defect, and pointed out how absurd it was, that all the time should be spent on the languages which learning was to be fetched from, and none on the language it was to be delivered in. To this error he attributed the fact that many learned, and otherwise excellent, ministers preached away their congregations, “while a jingling, noisy boy, that had a good stock in his face, and a dysentery of the tongue, though he had little or nothing in his head, should run away with the whole town.”[506]

Youths of all sorts were admitted into these academies, as into modern boarding-schools; hence some pupils might be of doubtful character. Also prejudices against the Church of England would naturally arise. Amongst the elder pupils the controversies of other days would be revived, and enthusiastic spirits would tilt a lance on the side of “the good old cause.” Charles I. and Charles II. would be no favourites; James II.’s Popery would be denounced; Cromwell would be excused and praised; and William III. lauded to the skies. In the common room where students unbent, there might be fun and laughter; in the private study there might be other volumes than classical and theological text-books; levity and idleness probably existed in these gatherings of great boys and young men; and damaging charges, no doubt, could be substantiated against some of them; but the character of these maligned institutions must, after all, be judged by their courses of study, by the character of their professors, and by their educational results. These tests being applied, lead to a favourable conclusion. The studies combined logic, metaphysics, and ethics, with readings in Colbert, Le Clerc, Suarez, More, Cicero,[418] and Epictetus; natural and political philosophy, with the use of Aristotle, Descartes, and Vossius; and the perusal of Latin and Greek historians and poets. Candidates for the pastoral office read Divinity, and studied the Greek Testament with such critical helps as were afforded in those times. We are assured that in lectures the Church of England was treated with respect, the Predestinarian controversy was discussed with moderation, and Monarchical maxims of government were upheld.[507]

What the most distinguished teachers were, and what many of the pupils became, may be seen in preceding pages.

I must not conclude this chapter without stating that as these academies were interrupted by intolerant laws, common schools also were subject to the same inconvenience. Cunning methods were sometimes adopted by schoolmasters, or were alleged to be so, with the view of overcoming clerical opposition,[508] and occasion was given[419] for the display of an unseemly spirit even by Bishops otherwise exemplary; bad mutual relations consequently in many quarters existed between Churchmen and Nonconformists.

During the Civil Wars, heartburnings existed between Presbyterians and Independents. They continued under the Protectorate, they diminished after the Restoration, and it might have been hoped would then have died out for ever; but unhappily they revived when the Revolution had set both parties at liberty. When old persecutions ended in England, it could not be said, as it was when Saul of Tarsus ceased to breathe out threatenings and slaughter, “then had the Church rest.” Whatever might be the dispositions of some—and certainly Howe and others were lovers of peace—ancient animosities exploded afresh. What happened at the Rathmel ordination indicated this; other proofs will appear.

An effort at union was, however, made in 1690, under the form of articles agreed to by the Dissenting ministers. They were published, under the title of “Heads of Agreement, assented to by the united ministers in and about London, formerly called Presbyterian and Congregational.” This document is worth attention, not only as an experiment to bring together different parties, but also as indicating modifications of opinion on both sides. The Presbyterians and Independents, who after the Revolution adopted these Articles, could not have held exactly the same views as did Presbyterians and Independents before[421] the Restoration. The former must now have abandoned all notions of parish presbyteries and provincial synods, and must have approximated to the Congregational idea of what used to be called “gathered churches,” or limited communities, resting on a principle of mutual choice. Reference is made to parochial bounds as not being of divine right; yet for common edification, the members of a particular church, it is said, ought, as far as convenient, to live near each other. A great deal was conceded by Presbyterians, when they allowed that each church has a right to choose its own officers, and that no officers of any one church shall exercise any power over any other church.[509] The Independents also must have passed through a change, inasmuch as they now ceased to insist upon the duty of church members entering into formal covenants, and allowed that, in the administration of church power, it belongs to the pastor and elders to rule and govern, and to the brotherhood to consent, according to the rule of the Gospel. They also tacitly admitted that a man might be ordained to the work of the ministry without having a specific pastoral charge, and that the pastors or bishops of neighbouring churches should concur in the ordination of a new pastor or bishop over a particular congregation.

In the chapter relative to the communion of churches, the Independents of the Revolution showed more disposition towards unity than their predecessors had done, and the chapter indicates an approach to Presbyterian government.[510] Seeds of concord between the two denominations bore some fruit in the provinces. An association combining them grew up in Devon and Cornwall, and Flavel preached and presided at its first meeting. In Hampshire and Norfolk the plan met with favour. So it[422] did in Nottinghamshire, and in the neighbourhood of Manchester, where, however, Independents were few. It was warmly taken up in the West Riding of Yorkshire, and at Wakefield a united meeting was held, when Heywood preached from Zech. xiv. 9: “In that day shall there be one Lord, and His name one.” It seems that the townspeople at Wakefield were alarmed at the influx of ministers walking through their streets—the fashionably-dressed people of the reign of William III., in their jaunty costume, looking with curiosity and suspicion upon the Puritan garb and the staid demeanour of their visitors. Yet these reverend gentlemen did not amount in number to more than twenty-four, and “when the service at Mrs. Kirby’s” was over, “they thought it prudent to go apart, and by several ways, to the house at which they dined.”[511]

A violent controversy—which, before its close, ran through both Calvinistic and Socinian questions, and gathered up personal entanglements—started into life soon after the Act of Toleration had been passed. The doctrines of Justification, the Atonement, and Christ’s Divinity came successively within its range. Combatant after combatant entered the field, and although the antagonists, for the most part, were Nonconformists, they managed, before they had done, to involve one or two distinguished Churchmen within the coils of their dispute.

The scene of the first stage was the little town of Rowell, in Northamptonshire, where a devoted Puritan, named John Beverley, had created a considerable sensation in the days of the Commonwealth, and out of this a church had sprung. After the Revolution, Richard Davis,[423] from the Principality, became minister; and as an indication of his narrow and jealous independence, it is mentioned that he was “installed in the office of pastor or bishop” by the church itself, and by that church alone, some pastors of other congregations, who had come “to behold their faith and order,” withdrawing from the assembly, because there was nothing for them to do. Brooking no restraint, he made the whole county of Northampton his diocese, and went from place to place preaching and gathering converts into his fold. He enflamed others with ardour like his own, and became the centre of a wide circle of lay agency. People living at a great distance were brought into fellowship with the band at Rowell, and they would, lantern in hand, trudge twenty miles along dirty roads on winter mornings to hear him preach, and in the same way go back at night. Offshoots from this vigorous community became in time distinct societies. These proceedings soon excited jealousy, and the jealous were not slow to accuse the lay agents of ignorance, and their superintendent of great imprudence.[512] A noisy revival broke out in February, 1692, and the press was soon employed in giving what is called A Plain and Just Account of a most Horrid and Dismal Plague at Rowell, in which tract the “visions and revelations” of Richard Davis and his “emissaries, the shoemakers, joiners, dyers, tailors, weavers, farmers, &c.,” are odiously exhibited. Tidings of this reached London, and attracted the attention of respectable Presbyterian ministers, who were as much shocked as it was possible for any Episcopalians to be. What was worse, heresy, as reported, mingled with wildfire, and Davis stood charged with maintaining that believers always appear before God[424] without sin; that if they do wrong they are still without spot; that prayers are offered more for the sake of discovering guilt to their own consciences, than for securing forgiveness from God; and that Christ fulfilled the covenant of grace, “and believed for us as our representative.” Oddly enough, this Antinomian preacher is said to have entertained an idea that baptism in the parish church is invalid, for this, amongst other reasons, that the administrators are not of Christ’s sending. Davis defended himself as best he could, and the church of which he was pastor vindicated his character, denying some ridiculous stories, yet speaking of his ministry in terms corroborative of its high Calvinistic type.

The second stage of this controversy appears in London. The Calvinism of the Commonwealth had by no means perished. Old books bearing its impress, old preachers repeating its echoes, remained, and wherever sympathies with it continued to thrive, of course the Northamptonshire pastor found advocates. Just at this moment an insignificant incident fanned the flame. A son of the noted Dr. Tobias Crisp reprinted his father’s works, with additions from unpublished papers; and very artfully, the editor procured the names of some well-known Divines, simply, as he said, to attest the genuineness of the MSS.—a thing perfectly superfluous—really, as he must have meant, to promote the sale of the new edition. Crisp was a Predestinarian of the first water, and maintained the doctrine of Election and the limitation of the Atonement in the narrowest and most repulsive form.

The excitement produced by this book, in connection with the disturbance created by Davis, was wonderful. The advocates of High Calvinism hailed it as the commencement of a millennium; they talked and preached and wrote with renewed vigour, and those who opposed[425] them were denounced as legalists. On both sides bitterness increased. The more Crisp’s book was condemned, the more it was read. Its circulation was greatest amongst the uneducated, who praised the author up to the skies. The editor informs us that, in so unlikely a place as Guildhall, at one of the livery meetings, he was accosted by a citizen, who wrung him by the hand, and, with tears in his eyes, thanked him for reprinting his father’s sermons.

Daniel Williams, a Presbyterian minister, formerly of Dublin, and at the time of the Revolution presiding over a numerous congregation at Hand Alley, in Bishopsgate Street, was then rising into eminence; and being a moderate Calvinist, he determined to oppose the circulation of Crisp’s work. Consequently, in 1692, he published his Gospel Truth Vindicated, in which Crisp’s dogmas are arranged, errors are separated from truths, and confutations supplied, not only from Scripture, but also from other writings of that very Divine. Prefixed to Williams’ book is a list of approving theologians, including Bates, Howe, Alsop, and Lorimer.

This publication led to unpleasant complications, and to understand them we must refer to the celebrated lectures delivered in Pinners’ Hall. Lectures in the heart of the Metropolis had been popular when Puritanism was at its zenith. Merchants turned from their walk in the Exchange and their seats in the counting-house, to listen to a favourite preacher as he meted out his message by the hour-glass. When Indulgence came, Pinners’ Hall happened to be vacant, and being conveniently situated in Broad Street, it was hired for a Wednesday morning exercise. Four Presbyterians and two Independents undertook to officiate in succession. Dr. Bates, Dr. Manton, Mr. Baxter, and Mr. Jenkyn, had as their associates Dr.[426] Owen and Mr. Collins. From the beginning, however, unfortunate bickerings appeared, and at the Revolution dogmatic differences became increasingly manifest—the Independents were more Calvinistic than their Presbyterian brethren. The circumstances of this Lecture perhaps had something to do with the way in which the Northamptonshire quarrel was taken up, certainly it added fuel to the fire kindled by the republication of Crisp’s works. In 1692, of the old Pinners’ Hall lecturers only Bates remained, his new colleagues being Williams and Alsop. The other new lecturers were Mead and Cole, decidedly Independent, and John Howe, who, although previously reckoned amongst Independents, seems by this time to have associated chiefly with Presbyterians, and to have had more sympathy in their temper than in that manifested by some of his active Independent brethren. Attempts at union entirely failed. Storms of feeling could not be allayed by verbal incantation, and a contemporary, who narrowly watched the proceedings, deplored the absence of a healing spirit.[513] Williams, by his book against Crisp, offended some of the supporters of the Lecture—a circumstance which led to discussion amongst the lecturers; and in 1694, Williams was voted out, and three of the number—Bates, Howe, and Alsop—withdrew from Pinners’ to Salters’ Hall, and commenced a distinct lecture there. Cole and Mead, the two Independents, remained in the old place, and associated with themselves four other Independents—Mather, Cruso, Lobb, and Gouge.

But I must hasten to the third stage of this intricate dispute, when, in 1695, Stephen Lobb, “the Jacobite Independent,” charged Williams with implicitly denying[427] the commutation of persons between Christ and believers, because he had denied such a relation as Crisp maintained, who went so far as to declare Christ to be by imputation as sinful as man, and the believer to become through faith as righteous as Christ. This led to explanations too wearisome for notice. If anyone will take the trouble to look into what Williams wrote, he will be astonished to find a man, who went so far in his notions of the union between the Mediator and His people, suspected of not believing in the Atonement; and he will discover a signal instance of the intolerable demands which some will make upon others, in order to enlist from them a full amount of prescribed orthodoxy.

The battle raged hotter and hotter. Williams was even accused of Socinianism, and not content with robbing him of all claim to orthodoxy, his exasperated opponents tried to filch from him his virtuous reputation. But he kept them at bay, and at last completely overcame them.[514]

Towards the end, two distinguished Churchmen came upon the stage—Dr. Jonathan Edwards, Principal of Jesus College, Oxford, and Bishop Stillingfleet—both of whom were appealed to by the disputants as to the doctrine of Commutation, and the charge of Socinianism brought against Williams. The Bishop, of course, contradicted Crisp’s absurd notion, and pronounced Williams innocent of heterodoxy.

It is said that the number of Antinomians amongst Nonconformists diminished after the close of the controversy.

Dissenters cannot be charged with an absorbing attachment to their distinctive system; they valued more the common truths of Christianity, but they were prepared to vindicate their own ecclesiastical views and to repel aspersions. David Clarkson, who had before published books on Episcopacy, in answer to Stillingfleet, sent forth in 1689 his discourse on Liturgies. The charge of being schismatical, laid at the doors of Nonconformists, led Matthew Henry to publish in the same year a Discourse concerning the Nature of Schism, in which he endeavoured to prove, that there may be schism where there is no separation, and that there may be separation where there is no schism. The discourse being attacked, William Tong, in the year 1693, came forward in its defence, maintaining that the want of charity, not the want of particular ministerial orders, creates sinful schism; and that to charge the crime upon such Dissenters as cultivate candour, liberality, and love, is “a piece of diabolism which the Gospel abhors, and of which humanity itself will be ashamed;” and complained at the end, “that non-resistance and passive obedience was the universal cry in the Church, and squeezed till the blood came: but the mischief was, when they had nursed the prerogative, till it had stung some of them and hissed[429] at all the rest, they presently let the world see they never brewed this doctrine for their own drinking.”

James Owen, a learned Presbyterian minister, published in 1694 a plea for Presbyterian ordination, and afterwards composed another essay in support of his views, showing that neither Timothy nor Titus were diocesan rulers; that the presbyters of Ephesus, not Timothy and Titus, were successors to the Apostles in the government of the Church; that the First Epistle to Timothy was written before the meeting at Miletus; and that the ancient Waldenses did not acknowledge diocesan prelates. This course of reasoning is a specimen of the manner in which Presbyterians were wont to state and defend their own system.

But Nonconformist polemics were not confined to the maintenance of a common cause; they took an internecine turn, not only in connection with the Crisp affair, but in connection with occasional conformity.

By the Corporation Act, everyone holding a municipal office was required to receive the Lord’s Supper in the Church of England. Sir John Shorter, a Presbyterian, had by such conformity qualified himself to act as Lord Mayor of the city of London in the reign of James II., and two distinguished Dissenters in the following reign occupied the same civic post and adopted the same policy. Sir Humphrey Edwin was Lord Mayor in 1697, and, dressed in a gown of crimson velvet, carried the city sword before William, as, on his return from the Continent, he passed through London with the customary pomp of a public procession. He not only conformed at certain times during his mayoralty, but he also, on one occasion when he attended Divine Service at Pinners’ Hall Meeting-house, caused the civic paraphernalia to be carried before him. I am not aware whether any other Lord[430] Mayor did this. Sir Humphrey Edwin might be said to bring the State over to Nonconformity, as at other times, when he knelt at the altars of the Establishment, he brought Nonconformity over to the State. At all events, his conduct subjected him to annoying criticism. He was attacked by a clergyman who preached before the Corporation in St. Paul’s Cathedral. Ballads and lampoons, caricaturing what he had done, were hawked about the streets, and Swift, in his Tale of the Tub, satirized Sir Humphrey in his well-known reference to Jack’s tatters coming into fashion, and his getting upon a great horse and eating custard. Tragical exclamations were uttered in High Church circles, and in a publication of later date it is declared, that “to the great reproach of the laws, and of the city magistracy,” the Mayor “carried the sword with him to a nasty conventicle, that was kept in one of the City Halls, which horrid crime one of his own party defended by giving this arrogant reason for it, that by the Act of Parliament by which they have their liberty, their religion was as much established as ours.”[515] The Lord Mayor’s proceeding did not meet with the approbation of his co-religionists. They felt the injustice of the attacks which it had occasioned; it seemed to them inconsistent and arrogant for Churchmen to speak in the way they did of a religion which had the same object of worship, the same rule of faith and life, and the same end and aim as their own; yet they saw that Sir Humphrey’s conduct had been such as naturally to lead to misapprehension and to produce annoyance. Calamy lamented that “this measure drew unhappy consequences after it, both in this reign and in that which succeeded.”[516]

Sir Thomas Abney, a Presbyterian, became Lord Mayor of London in the year 1701. Prior to that date he had favoured occasional Conformity. When in office he attended church. This occasioned a controversy between two Nonconformists, who regarded the conduct of Abney and Edwin from different points of view.

Daniel De Foe, who had been educated in Mr. Morton’s academy with a view to becoming a Presbyterian minister, and then found the study of politics and the pursuits of literature more congenial to his taste, distinguished himself by a firm attachment to Nonconformist principles, and carried them out to an extreme extent. He had written about half a dozen clever pamphlets in about fifteen years, and was on the point of commencing that career as an author which made him so notorious among contemporaries, so popular with posterity, when, in 1697, he published anonymously an Enquiry into the Occasional Conformity of Dissenters. In his own trenchant style, with vigorous Anglo-Saxon idioms, employed after a rasping fashion, he declared that none but Protestants halt between God and Baal; none but Christians of an amphibious nature could believe one way, and worship another.

In the year of Sir Thomas Abney’s mayoralty, De Foe republished his Enquiry, and prefixed to it a preface addressed to John Howe. John Howe was Sir Thomas’s pastor, and addressing him, De Foe demanded that Howe should declare to the world, whether the practice of alternate communion was allowed either by his congregation, or by Dissenters in general. The practice, he said, should be defended if defensible, otherwise “the world must believe that Dissenters do allow themselves to practice what they cannot defend.”

Howe being dragged before the public, referred to his[432] own moderate views in points of difference between Conformists and Nonconformists, but denied having advised Sir Thomas as to his conduct; he declined to enter upon the question, and only contended that occasional conformity to one communion, if a fault, should not exclude a person from habitual fellowship with another. De Foe had taken up occasional Conformity as a qualification for holding office, and had shown that so regarded it is incapable of vindication; but Howe regarded the question generally, and proved that a person who, apart from worldly motives, communes with one church on particular occasions, and with another church on common occasions, does nothing which impeaches his conscientiousness or destroys his consistency.

The author’s calm temper becomes ruffled towards the close, when he alludes to the “stingy and narrow spirit” of his opponent, and to his seeking to impose upon the world a false impression of the English Puritans. He declared that in 1662 “most of the considerable ejected London ministers met and agreed to hold occasional communion with the now re-established Church, not quitting their own ministry or declining the exercise of it as they could have opportunity.”[517]

De Foe replied, vindicating his own character, and animadverting upon Howe’s want of zeal. The latter having reluctantly taken part in this business, could not be induced to say another word. The spirit of Howe had greatly the advantage over the temper of De Foe; nothing but one-sided partizanship could induce any man to charge the advocate of occasional communion with disloyalty to Nonconformist principles.

Nonconformist preaching was orthodox. The existing[433] generation, however, deviated from their father’s footsteps. Sermons differed from those of an earlier period in form: divisions were less numerous and perplexing, bones were not so visible, there was more symmetry of proportion, and more roundness of style. In spirit some preachers diverged from their predecessors—betraying a lack of fire, unction, and healing power. Nevertheless, there were pastors who caught the mantle and spirit of the departed. Anyone visiting “the ancient and fair city of Chester” found a specimen of this in the ministry of Matthew Henry. At a meeting-house in Crook Street—still in existence, as I have already said, with the original pulpit and sounding-board, from which the good man delivered his homilies—he had a congregation so large, that ultimately it contained as many as 350 communicants, including a few city magnates. They assembled in their large oaken pews at 9 o’clock on a Sunday morning, the richer men in curly wigs, lace ruffles, and ample broad cloth suits; their wives and daughters with long stomachers, hoops, and lofty head-dresses; but beneath costumes fashioned by the fancies of the age, they carried in their hearts wants, cares, and desires belonging to all ages, and such as the worship and ministry upon which they attended were adapted to meet and satisfy.

The service began with the hundredth psalm, according to the version of Sternhold and Hopkins; and then we can easily image the pastor beneath the huge sounding-board, standing erect—portly in form, dignified in mien, comely in face, his person set off to advantage by a curled wig and a flowing gown—offering prayer and next expounding a lesson in the Old Testament. The matter and manner may be learnt from perusing his Commentary, where, in the picturesque quaintness of his thoughts, he aims not at singularity, but at fixing Divine truth in[434] people’s memories and hearts. Another psalm and a longer supplication succeeded, and judging from his book on prayer, he must have excelled in that form of spiritual exercise. Then followed a sermon full of useful practical thought, arranged in singular devices, after Puritan precedents; for Matthew had great reverence for the ways of his father Philip, and of his father’s friends. What is said of the sire may be said of the son: “Many a good thought has perished because it was not portable, and many a sermon is forgotten, because it is not memorable; but like seeds with wings, the sayings of Henry have floated far and near, and like seeds with hooked prickles, his sermons stuck in his most careless hearers. His tenacious words took root; and it was his happiness to see, not only scriptural intelligence but fervent and consistent piety spreading among his parishioners.”[518] Singing and praying wound up the service, after it had lasted some three hours. This protracted worship would be deemed sufficient for one day; but in the afternoon the same thing was repeated, the exposition of the New Testament being substituted for that of the Old. We are apt to pity men who performed or endured such lengthened duties, but really the duty cannot be regarded as having involved much hardship for them. Such long services were their own choice. Some might fancy that under the weight of these prayers, these expositions, and these sermons, every Sabbath regularly for twenty-four years, the pastor’s strength would break down; yet the good man seems to have borne the wear and tear of it all remarkably well.

The Lord’s Supper he celebrated monthly, remarking that “among the Jews, the beginning of the month was[435] esteemed sacred; and although he did not consider the Jewish law as to the new moons still in force, yet from general reasoning he thought the conclusion a safe one, that whatsoever may be our divisions of time, it is always good to begin such divisions with God—seeking first His kingdom and its righteousness.”[519]

He was impressive in his mode of administering baptism, which he likened to the taking of a beneficial lease for a child while in the cradle, and putting his life into it. He used the Assembly’s Catechism, and when “he perceived in any of his catechumens symptoms of thoughtfulness upon religious subjects, he specially noticed them, and as soon as there was a competent number, conversed with them severally and apart upon their everlasting interests; afterwards in the solemn Assembly, he catechised them concerning the Lord’s Supper, by a form which he printed.” He next appointed a day in the week preceding the monthly sacrament, in which, before the congregation, he was their intercessor at the Heavenly Throne: a sermon was addressed to them, and the following Sabbath they were welcomed to the Lord’s-table. “Such in his judgment, as in that of his father also, was the true confirmation, or transition into a state of adult and complete church membership.” He considered the ordinances of Christ as mysteries, of which His ministers are the stewards, and in admitting any to membership, “they were entrusted with the keys.”[520] Holding this view, he kept in his own hands the exercise of discipline; and on one occasion he pronounced sentence of excommunication on three persons, the act being accompanied by a congregational fast.

Neighbouring villages were visited, and periodical lectures established. Twice a year county unions met, when ecclesiastical matters came under discussion. “Affairs of the State or the Established Church were never meddled with.”[521]

The account I have given applies particularly to Presbyterians, but association meetings were also held by Independents. They did not, however, at these gatherings ordain ministers; ordinations amongst them generally took place in the presence of the church members by whom the pastor was chosen. Orders—technically speaking—maintained by Presbyterians as well as Episcopalians, could scarcely be said to be recognized by Congregationalists, who considered ordination simply as an acknowledgment of the church’s act in electing ministers. The key to the difference between the two denominations is found, on the one hand, in the Presbyterian idea of power being lodged in the ministry, and, on the other hand, in the Congregational idea of power being lodged in the people; and as this distinction and difference affected the subject of ordination, so it did that of admission and discipline. Admission of members amongst Congregationalists depended upon a vote of the church, after an account had been given of the candidate’s religious character. Congregational churches were not all alike as to terms of admission. Some were narrow and severe. They[437] exacted circumstantial proofs of conversion, and an ample confession of faith. In not a few cases this was required to be given in writing. Others accepted the children of members, to use their quaint language, when they took hold of their father and mother’s covenant, and expressed their confidence in Christ’s passion, and repentance from dead works. The Church having nothing to object to “their walking,” they were permitted to partake of the Ordinance of the Supper, and were confirmed.[522]

Yet churches less exacting in terms of admission were curiously vigilant in the oversight of members, and would call people to account even for lying in bed, instead of coming to the communion; for consulting a lawyer on a Sunday afternoon; and for going to a cock-fight when the brethren were met to seek God.[523] Acts of discipline depended upon church votes, and sometimes differences of opinion arose between pastor and people.

An instance of the manner in which the Independents of the village of Guestwick, in Norfolk, invited a minister, and prepared for his reception, is preserved in their church book. They set forward for London about the beginning of the month of October, 1694, and from thence to Chalfont in Buckinghamshire, with letters from the church to the gentleman whom they wished to become their pastor. If he would come, the church would comply with what he desired. At last they obtained his consent, the tidings of which were forwarded to the church. One of the deacons tarried to accompany him and his family. They went by coach, and were met by several of the brethren[438] at Swaffham the 1st of November, and arrived at Guestwick the 2nd, at night. The charges which the church and other friends incurred for this expenditure amounted to nearly £20. A similar entry of later date may be found in the Yarmouth Congregational Church-Book, relative to a coach and four being sent for the conveyance of their new Bishop.[524]

When ministers grew old and needed assistance, churches were ready to contribute an additional income. At Cockermouth the aged pastor wished his son to be associated with him; consequently, the people agreed to give a call for that purpose, and a letter accordingly was drawn up and numerously signed. Previously “they subscribed to make him £30 per annum, with a great deal of readiness and freedom.”[525]

Congregations testified their interest in public events. At the place just mentioned, in January, 1689, the people assembled to seek the Lord for the Convention, held that day in London for settling the nation. The pastor spoke from Psalm lxxxii. 1. In February, 1698, “the church passed a day of prayer for the Protestants in France;” and in the following November they kept a solemnity for God’s deliverance of the nation and the Church from “the Popish hellish powder-plot;” also “for saving the nation from Popery and slavery by the landing of the Prince of Orange.” When the pastor died, December, 1700, the church recorded his last words: “Lord, remember my poor brethren in France.”[526]

The Independent mode of conducting worship resembled the Presbyterian. Baptism and the Lord’s Supper were observed by both much in the same way. The latter was[439] celebrated in most places once a month; in some, once in six weeks.[527]

Ecclesiastical revenues of course were voluntary. The expense of educating men for the ministry was met by parents or friends; assistance in some cases being provided out of charitable funds. The Fund Board was established soon after the Revolution, and from its proceeds young candidates received grants. To this fund the Presbyterians contributed £2,000, and the Independents nearly £1,700, a year. Assistance also proceeded from an endowment under the will of a Mr. Trotman, who, after the Act of Uniformity, bequeathed property for Nonconformist purposes. The trustees were ejected ministers, almost all of them belonging to the Independent denomination; and they afforded small exhibitions to persons studying for the ministry. Amongst distinguished beneficiaries were Stephen Lobb, who entered Trinity College, Oxford, in 1679; Benjamin Chandler, who studied at the same University; Samuel Wesley, who, for awhile, as we have seen, contemplated being a Dissenting pastor; William Payne, of Saffron Walden, a friend of John Owen; and the celebrated divine and poet, Isaac Watts, the last of whom received aid from the Fund Board also.[528]

The support of Dissenting pastors depended mainly upon their flocks. Sometimes, as we have seen, money was raised for the erection of meeting-houses by the sale of pews, which became the property of the purchasers;[440] but in such cases, as well as others, the salary of the minister principally arose from the subscriptions of the people. Endowments in certain cases increased the revenues, but sometimes, where churches had no such resources and needed sustentation, grants were made from the Fund Board. Trotman’s Trust availed in a small degree for ministerial support, as well as education, so long as any of the ejected survived, and the money bequeathed to them lasted; for by his will he left £500 to poor ministers, who had been removed from “their employment” in the Church of England by the Act of Uniformity.

We have noticed the public worship of Nonconformists. It is worth while to advert to Sundays at home. In many a farmhouse and city dwelling, the master called his household round him in the evening, to read a chapter and to ask religious questions; all being catechised, from the old servant by the door to the child who sat beside the cosy hearth, within the folds of mamma’s ornamented apron. Perhaps a discourse was read, a psalm sung, and a prayer offered. The young folks might have looked sleepy before all was over, and some of the older ones might with difficulty have kept their eyes open; but there were men and women who could say at the end of these Puritan Sabbaths, with the Henry family at Broad Oak: “If this be not heaven, it is the way to it.”

The relation of the pastor to his flock was intimate. He was their guide and counsellor. Families grew up calling him their own friend and their father’s friend; for the pastoral bond was rarely broken in those days, except by death or some very remarkable circumstance.

Of the character of the early Nonconformists, testimony is borne by Dr. Watts, who loved to cherish memories of the old Dissent, as he had seen it in his young days. No[441] doubt we sometimes deceive ourselves in looking down the vista of the past. A transparent haze mellows the whole; perhaps fancy takes liberties with the details, and lays on tints of her own. How more than halcyon were the times of the Confessor from the distance of the reign of Rufus; yet there was truth in the Saxon’s estimate, under a Norman dynasty, of a former generation. Unquestionably, there is truth in Watts’ review. He refers mainly to a period rather earlier than that embraced within this chapter, yet the light of Puritanism’s autumn day did not expire so long as Baxter and Howe survived; Watts mentions the reverence of Dissenters for the name of God, of their strict observance of the Sabbath, of their habits of religious conversation, of their regular discharge of religious duties, of their nonconformity to the world, and of their economical expenditure.

But all was not sunshine in the old Dissent. Indeed, Watts lamented the changes he witnessed. So did Howe; his lamentations being deepened by the loss of early friends—“so many great lights withdrawn, both such as were within the National Church Constitution, and such as were without it.” And, no doubt, in connection with altered circumstances and the advance of free ecclesiastical opinion, there came a considerable decline of spiritual fervour. The strain and tension of earlier religious life almost ceased. As in the Church of England there was more calmness and moderation in Tillotson, Tenison, and Burnet, for example, than in Cosin and Ward—so it was with Dissenters, as appears when we compare such a man as Matthew Henry with such a man as Richard Baxter, or when we place Edmund Calamy by the side of his grandfather.

One by one in the reign of our third William the fathers of the old Dissent passed away. They just saw the morning of religious liberty, they just touched the border of the land of promise, they dwelt under its vines and fig-trees for a very little while, and then died in peace.

Philip Henry expired in the summer of 1696. A few candidates for the ministry, who had in private academies gone through what they termed a University course, were permitted to reside at Broad Oak, and to listen to the instructions of its master. “You come to me,” he would say, “as Naaman did to Elisha, expecting that I should do this and the other thing for you, and, alas! I can but say as he did: ‘Go wash in Jordan.’ Go study the Scriptures. I profess to teach no other learning but Scripture learning.”

Philip Henry reminds us of John Bunyan’s pilgrims in the land of Beulah, as we read the following passage, written not long before his death: “Methinks it is strange that it should be your lot and mine to abide so long on earth by the stuff, when so many of our friends are dividing the spoil above, but God will have it so; and to be willing to live in obedience to His holy will is as true an act of grace, as to be willing to die when He calls,[443] especially when life is labour and sorrow. But when it is labour and joy, service to His name, and some measure of success and comfort in serving Him, when it is to stop a gap and stem a tide, it is to be rejoiced in—it is heaven upon earth.”

The shadow of death in mid-winter enveloped another scarcely less famous Puritan home. Samuel Annesley, an older man than Philip Henry by twelve years, with a ministerial history which ran far back into the troubles of the Commonwealth and Civil Wars, continued to preach in Little St. Helen’s to a congregation of wealthy citizens, amongst whom might be seen Daniel De Foe,[529] sometimes the eccentric John Dunton, and at an earlier time the almost equally eccentric Samuel Wesley, the two latter being married to two of Annesley’s daughters. Of a hardy constitution, still more indurated by severe personal habits, Annesley could bear the greatest cold without hat, gloves, or fire. He drank little besides water, and to the day of his death could read small print without spectacles.[530] The pastor’s family was large, for Dr. Manton, baptizing one of them, asked how many children he had. Annesley returned for answer, that he believed it was two dozen or a quarter of a hundred; “this reckoning children by dozens,” says Dunton, “was a thing so very uncommon, that I have heard Dr. Annesley mention it with a special remark.” He to the last retained great influence amongst the Presbyterians,[444] having, “the care of all the churches on his mind, and being a great support of Dissenting ministers and of the Morning Lecture.” He entered his pulpit for the last time, saying, “I must work while it is day,” and died with ecstatic exclamations on his lips: “I have no doubt nor shadow of doubt—all is clear between God and my soul. He chains up Satan; he cannot trouble me. Come, dear Jesus! the nearer the more precious, and the more welcome. What manner of love is this to a poor worm! I cannot express a thousandth part of what praise is due to Thee! We know what we do when we aim at praising God for His mercies! It is but little I can give, but, Lord, help me to give Thee my all. I will die praising Thee, and rejoice that there are others that can praise Thee better. I shall be satisfied with Thy likeness! satisfied! satisfied! Oh, my dearest Jesus, I come!” The old register of St. Leonard’s, Shoreditch, for December, 1696, has this entry: “Samuel Annesley was buried the seventh day, from Spittle Yard.”[531]

Nathaniel Vincent, when the Revolution brought him rest from spies, informers, and constables, quietly went on with his work in St. Thomas’s, Southwark, amidst the Presbyterian congregation which he had gathered; but an unhappy division before his death gave him trouble—sixty members breaking off to join another church, but no blame attached to him for this. If the eulogium pronounced by his friends be true, “he scarcely entered into any company, but he was like a box of precious ointment, and left some sweet perfume from his heavenly discourse.” Vincent’s end was sudden and premature; he had only leisure to exclaim: “I find I am dying. Lord! Lord! Lord! have mercy on my[445] family and my congregation.” His age was but fifty-three.[532]

Dr. William Bates, a close friend of Archbishop Tillotson, retained his popularity and his renown for “silver-tongued” eloquence beyond the Revolution of 1688. As one of the preachers at Salters’ Hall after the establishment of the New Lecture there in 1694, although an old man of seventy-four, he preached to a thronged assembly; but he lived in the village of Hackney, where he ministered to a Presbyterian congregation in Mare Street.[533] Howe’s estimate of Bates’ character has been quoted in a former volume; it is sufficient here to add the following words by the same writer: “God took him, even kissed away his soul, as hath been said of those great favourites of heaven, did let him die without being sick, vouchsafed him that great privilege—which a good man would choose before many—not to outlive serviceableness. To live till one be weary of the world, not till the world be weary of him—thus he prayed wisely, thus God answered graciously.”[534] He died in July, 1699.

John Howe survived his friend about five years. It appears from his allusion to “the great lights of the National Church,” how his affections lingered around those who were its ornaments, and passages occurring in his answer to De Foe, indicate Howe’s increasing tenderness[446] towards the Church of England in his last days. He had always been a moderate Dissenter, but his moderation assumes broader dimensions than ever in that publication—the effect, I apprehend, partly of natural tenderness and partly of unpleasant circumstances. He had, from the very constitution of his mind, what many great and good men have not—a burning thirst for union, for a large fellowship of souls on earth preparatory to the final gathering of the purified and perfected. This passion increased in Howe the nearer he approached the world of light and love. He longed, as his days ebbed away, to embrace within his fellowship the good and wise of all parties; consequently lines of distinction between church and church, between sect and sect, became in his eyes paler and paler. And I cannot help seeing that the disputes amongst Nonconformist ministers in London—the unhappy divisions arising out of the Crisp controversy—vexed him exceedingly, and loosened a little the bonds which had bound him to the Independent body. A moderate Congregationalist in earlier life, he appears latterly to have sympathized most with Presbyterians. The church in Silver Street, of which he took the pastoral charge, was Presbyterian. The Salters’ Hall Lecture, with which he identified himself, was Presbyterian. Presbyterians were less opposed to the Established Church than were Independents; the latter felt no wish for comprehension, the former did; and in that wish, which the impossibility of its gratification could not quench, John Howe to the last deeply shared.

In his latter days he largely experienced the joys of religion. He seemed at that period to attain a more ethereal purity of soul, a more sublime elevation of mind, and a more seraphic glow of devotion. The ancients believed that the nearer men approach the hour of death the more[447] divine they become, and the more piercing is their insight into the mysteries of futurity. Howe, under the influence of a divine enthusiasm, certainly appeared during the last year of his life as if the veil of flesh had been parted, and his free spirit had found a pathway which “the vulture’s eye hath never seen.” It is related that on one occasion, at the Lord’s-table, his soul was suffused with such rapture that the communicants thought his physical strength would have sunk under the weight of his preternatural emotions. And another instance of overpowering delight about the same time, is recorded by himself in a Latin note found on the blank leaf of his study Bible. After notice of a peculiarly beautiful and refreshing dream which he had some years before, he adds: “But what of the same kind I sensibly felt through the admirable bounty of my God, and the most pleasant comforting influence of the Holy Spirit, on October 22nd, 1704, far surpassed the most expressive words my thoughts can suggest. I then experienced an inexpressibly pleasant melting of heart, tears gushing out of mine eyes for joy that God should shed abroad His love abundantly through the hearts of men, and that for this very purpose mine own should be so signally possessed of and by His blessed Spirit.” One trembles at criticizing such a phenomenon, and at attempting to resolve it all into a delirium of excitement. Who that has ever mused on the nature of the human mind, on the mystery of that unseen world which presses close around it, on the piety of such a man as Howe, and on the special love which God bears to those whom he makes so like Himself, would dare to speak lightly of such an incident?

Howe spent some of his closing days in the composition of a work On Patience in Expectation of Future Blessedness, expressive of his own religious experience;[448] and it shows that such were his thoughts of heaven, such his desire to depart, that he had to practice an unwonted form of self-denial to reconcile himself to continuance in a world which so many are loth to leave. Friends conversed with him to the last, and the visit of one of them deserves special notice. Richard Cromwell called upon him in his last illness, but the words they interchanged have died away, save an indistinct echo lingering in a brief sentence by Calamy: “There was a great deal of serious discourse between them; tears were freely shed on both sides, and the parting was very solemn, as I have been informed by one that was present on the occasion.”[535]

As a proof that Howe needed patience of an unusual kind, I may mention that he said to his wife: “Though he thought he loved her as well as it was fit for one creature to love another; yet if it were put to his choice, whether to die that moment, or to live that night, and the living that night would secure the continuance of his life for seven years to come, he would choose to die that moment.” In the same spirit he remarked to an attendant one morning, after being relieved from the intense sufferings of the previous night: “He was for feeling that he was alive, though most willing to die, and lay the ‘clog of mortality aside.’” When his son, a physician, was lancing his leg to diminish his sufferings, Howe inquired what he was doing, and observed: “I am not[449] afraid of dying, but I am afraid of pain.” Indeed, he had a peculiar sensitiveness with regard to physical agony, which seems to have been constitutional. All but joy soon afterwards terminated, for, on the 2nd of April, 1705, his spirit entered those regions of repose which he had long so fervently desired to reach.

The passing away of the old Puritans could not but produce a great effect. When the last of the Apostles left the world, those who remained in the line of succession—so far as Apostles could have any proper successors—would fail to reach the level of experience, character, and influence which their predecessors occupied. And when the last of the Protestant Reformers died, there would be a falling off in the ardour and force which marked the religious leaders of the next generation. And so, without equalizing Apostles, Reformers, and Puritans, we may say of the last, that when they were all gone—though their cause remained in the hands of men who had learned their lessons—the fire no longer burned with the glowing heat it had done before. There might be more breadth of view, there might be advancement in some respects, but there remained not the same force which had operated so mightily at an earlier period. Puritanism, as a creed, as a discipline, as a form of worship, as a religious sentiment, remained; but much of its original inspiration passed away.

Another circumstance may be noticed. The Puritans of the Commonwealth had in early life mingled socially with Anglicans. They had sat on the same forms at school, had lived under the same college roof, had preached in the same places of worship. Owen, Baxter, and Howe had all shared more or less with Churchmen in the same modes of life before the severance of 1662. Those who followed them were for the[450] most part wholly separated from the Establishment, from its universities, its pulpits, its society, its courtesies, its atmosphere. Hence arose a personal estrangement between two great parties, in some respects more mischievous in its results than any of the controversies previously waged.

There have been influences at work in Society which rarely arrest the attention of historians, because hidden in the obscure depths of common life; and yet they have had a potency of effect, beyond even some prominent events which come out as landmarks in the past. I am inclined to ascribe to the social separation of Churchmen from Nonconformists, which opened in the middle of the seventeenth century, and gaped so wide at the close—much of that mutual suspicion, and that tendency to attribute bad motives to those of a different opinion, which still prevent, more or less, a candid and charitable consideration of each others’ arguments. Friendly intercourse is a moral discipline which affects our intellectual nature, and, by softening the asperities of temper, prepares a man to meet his fellow man with less of that prejudice so common to all, which blinds one person to phases of truth discerned by another.

The Baptists multiplied after the Revolution, and continued—what they had been before—often obscure, but always staunch supporters of independence and voluntaryism. In this respect they differed from Presbyterians, and often went beyond Independents. The representatives of more than one hundred churches met in London in the year 1689, and continued in conference a few days. They republished a Calvinistic confession of faith, adopted in the year 1677, but their business in the main was with practical matters and the religious improvement of their denomination. One doctrinal question which they discussed was whether believers were actually reconciled, justified, and adopted when Christ died; this they resolved by affirming that reconciliation and justification have been infallibly secured by the grace of God and the merit of Christ; but that their actual possession comes as the result of individual faith. They took a gloomy view of spiritual affairs, and, although looking at them from a very different point of view, reached conclusions resembling those of the Nonjurors. And this is noteworthy: they referred to the Jews, and entreated their brethren to “put up earnest cries and supplications to the Lord for the lineal seed of Abraham.” In furtherance of their objects they appointed a general fast, and[452] directed that the causes and reasons of it should be explained. With respect to government and discipline, they disclaimed authority, nor did they attempt to settle differences even in respect to communion. They projected a sustentation fund, in aid of churches, ministers, and students; at the same time they pronounced it expedient for small churches, in the same neighbourhood, to unite together for the support of the ministry. They ventured to commence an attack on the long periwigs of men, especially ministers, and the bravery, haughtiness, and pride of women, who walked “with stretched-out necks and wanton eyes, mincing as they went.” They deplored worldly conformity, and though they did not deny that ornaments were allowable, they said every ornament which opens the mouths of the ungodly ought to be cast off. Baptists had been reproached as Trimmers under James II. for the sake of their own liberty; but the representatives on this occasion declared that, to their knowledge, not one congregation had ever countenanced a power in the King to dispense with penal tests, and that William III. was a Divine instrument for the deliverance of England.[536]

A second assembly of the same nature met in London upon the 2nd of June, 1691, and another on the 3rd of May, 1692. They proposed to divide their annual assembly into two—one for the east in London, and the other for the west in Bristol, and they enjoined the making of quarterly collections for objects specified, at the same time expressly repudiating all idea of exercising synodical control.

Musical harmony had been a cause of discord; some of the Baptist celebrities, including Kiffin and Keach, had plunged into disputes on the subject, and[453] it was alleged that facts had been misrepresented and unwarrantable reflections published to the world. The matter came under the notice of a committee, which appears to have given an impartial decision. They declared that both parties were in the wrong; that, granting some statements might be true, they had laid open one another’s errors in an unbecoming spirit; that they ought to remember how Ham, for discovering the nakedness of Noah, was accursed of God, and how failings were forbidden to be told in Gath and Gilgal. They recommended that all the publications produced by the dispute should be called in and disposed of by the Assembly; and they finished their award by entreating, as upon their knees, that the brethren would keep the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace.[537]

Kiffin and Keach were amongst the Baptist magnates at the end of the Revolution, and were far more influential than Bunyan. Of Kiffin I have had occasion to speak. It only remains to add, that he continued his ministry to old age, and that his latter days were adorned by an act of beneficence. After the French Protestants had been driven from their own land, he took under his protection and entirely supported a family of rank, nor would he when these refugees recovered a portion of their fortune, accept any return for past services. He died in 1701, leaving a reputation for piety, consistency, and theological knowledge, and also for moderation, together with firmness in the maintenance of Calvinistic and strict communion views.

Of Benjamin Keach I have also spoken. Although a good man, and of an ingenious turn, he must have been rather pugnacious, for his works are of a controversial stamp, relating to the seventh-day Sabbath and the question[454] of psalmody. He was one of those who have not the smallest doubt of being themselves right, and of everybody else being wrong. Adult Baptism he described as Gold Refined; the Athenian Society he attacked for what it had said respecting Pædobaptism; he rectified a Rector by proving Infant Baptism unlawful in his Axe Laid to the Root, or one blow more aimed at that practice, which one blow would beat down for ever the arguments of Mr. Flavel, Mr. Rothwell, and Mr. Exell; finally, by A Counter Antidote, he strove to resist the assaults upon what his antagonists would call Anabaptism. His congregation is spoken of as the first to sing in public worship. So cautious were they, because of the prejudices of their brethren, that they went on step by step, for a long time restricting the practice to the close of the Lord’s Supper, then venturing upon a hymn amidst the exultation of a thanksgiving-day, and at last, after a struggle of fourteen years, becoming so bold and yet so temperate, as to sing every Sunday, after objectors to the practice had been allowed to retire.[538]

The distinction between Particular and General Baptists assumed sharper form and greater prominence after the Revolution. The General Baptists of the county of Somerset, in the year 1691, published an original manifesto of doctrine. These articles, upon the Will of Man, the Work of the Spirit, God’s Decrees, and the Saints’ Perseverance, are decidedly anti-Calvinistic, and the final chapter bears a millenarian impress; but, to avoid being charged with the excesses of the old fifth monarchists, the brethren declared that the “kingdom ought not to be set up by the material sword,” that being “contrary to the very nature of Christianity.”[539]

Matthew Caffin was a celebrated man amongst the General Baptists. Five times he suffered imprisonment for his Nonconformity, besides which he was repeatedly fined under the Conventicle Act. Opposed to the doctrine of Calvinism, like the rest of his brethren, he also distinguished himself by opposition to the Athanasian Creed. He objected to its definition and to its damnatory clauses, although he did not adopt either Socinian or Arian tenets.

Caffin appears to have been one of those one-sided people who, with a repugnance to all assumption on the part of the Church, and with a dislike of what are called dogmas, do not sufficiently consider the importance of principles as resting-places for faith and as sources of religious inspirations. In his horror of ultra-Calvinism, he forgot that dangers may arise from other points of the horizon. Not foreseeing the consequences of his course, not intending to open the door of heresy, he, through lack of sufficient positiveness, became the forerunner of those lax opinions which afterwards injured the churches of the General Baptist order. Orthodoxy is not identical with scholastic definitions; neither is it a foe or a stranger to charity. Caffin’s forgetfulness of this involved him in disputes with his own and with other denominations, and brought upon him suspicions which he did not deserve. Of his pugnacity, evidence exists in the account of his debates; and as a specimen of his wit, the following incident is related: A Quaker called on Caffin, saying he had a message from the Lord. “Come in then and do thy message,” replied Caffin. The Quaker rejoined: “I am come to reprove thee for paying tithes to the priests, and to forbid thy doing so any more.” “I think I can fully convince thee,” said the Baptist, “that thou art deceived, and that the Lord hath not sent thee; for I[456] assure thee I never did pay any tithes, nor am ever like to be charged with any.” The land he rented was tithe-free.[540]

Turning to the Quakers, we find them placidly thankful for toleration, yet vexed by demands for tithes and church-rates—sufferings, of which records were drawn up and sometimes printed and circulated. When they approached the Throne, both the King and the Lord-Keeper treated them with respect, and gave them assurances of friendship. Parliament listened to their expostulations, but of course the laws of the country rendered it impossible that they should be exempted from the payments in question any more than other people. Justified by the substitution of affirmations for oaths, the members of their community did not shrink from an anti-Socinian test; but the continued requirement of oaths in various relations exposed them to much hardship, for as they would not swear in legal exigencies, they were often defrauded of their rights. The policy of the Revolution opposed this condition of things, and in 1695 the complaints of Quakers and the efforts of their friends secured a beneficial change: affirmations were substituted for oaths in civil as well as ecclesiastical concerns.

Fox and Barclay remained leaders, visiting societies and promoting the spread of their principles. Identifying their own cause with the cause of humanity, regarding themselves as charged with a pacific mission to the world, they continued to serve their generation in the spirit of the angels’ song: “On earth peace, goodwill toward men.”

Barclay died in 1690, signifying, as it is quaintly said, with a good understanding, that it was well with him as to his soul. “God,” he remarked to a friend, “is good still, and though I am under a great weight of weakness[457] and sickness, yet my peace flows: and this I know, whatever exercises maybe permitted to come upon me, they shall tend to God’s glory and my salvation; and in that I rest.”

Fox died in 1691, saying to those around him: “All is well; the Seed of God reigns over all, and over death itself. And though I am weak in body, yet the power of God is over all, and the Seed reigns over all disorderly spirits.” By “the Seed,” we are informed that he meant the Divine Saviour. A few hours before his departure he exclaimed: “Do not heed: the power of the Lord is above all sickness and death; the Seed reigns, blessed be the Lord.”

William Penn, although adhering to Quaker principles, was too much occupied with other things to allow of his being in later life very prominent as an apostle of the Quaker faith.

Friends continued to maintain their self-government. The poor were taken care of; widows and orphans were provided for; local meetings were held by each congregation for the supervision of affairs every week, fortnight, or month, according to numbers; quarterly meetings were held in every county; and a general yearly meeting was held in London in Whitsun-week, “not,” it is cautiously said, “for any superstitious observation the Quakers have for that more than any other time, but because that season of the year best suits the general accommodation.”[541] In the genial spring, therefore, the Friends met in the days of King William; and with the men attired in their drab garments, might be seen matrons and maidens clothed in the finest raiment, like troops “of the shining ones.” Nonconformity to the world in point of dress was an[458] important article of practice, and sorely were the spirits of the Elders vexed by the tendency of younger members. The question was discussed: Friends were warned against the fashions of the world, and were forbidden not only to wear but to sell any garments of vanity. Earnest exhortations were delivered touching religious education and simplicity of speech.[542]

Mysticism, at the close of the seventeenth century, found a home almost exclusively amongst Quakers. It had won wide sympathies at one time; Davenant had predicted that in a hundred years religions would come to a settlement in a kind of “ingeniose Quakerism;” and Hales, as he studied writings of the mystical Familists’ school, used to say that some time or other these fine notions would take in the world. But, instead of a widening flow, these “fine notions” came to be contracted within a single channel. Instead of an “ingeniose Quakerism” leavening the world, the world left this leaven to ferment all but entirely amongst the people called Friends. Norris was the principal person outside that circle who, in the reign of William III., cultivated a mystical spirit; and he did so in a limited degree.[459] But few of the many pieces written by him indicate any marked quietest sentiments. In a paper entitled An Idea of Happiness, he speaks mystically of the fruition of God and of seraphic love, but in the same paper he speaks of the mystical doctrine of infused virtue as being a paradox in Divinity, like the doctrine of occult qualities in philosophy.[543] Norris’s mysticism did not go beyond that of a Platonistic divine. The Quakers had almost all the English mysticism of the age to themselves.

Amongst them, too, there was more of religious enthusiasm than amongst any other body of Nonconformists as a whole. Then occurred what is a curious but not uncommon fact, that as a rationalistic spirit was creeping over theology, sobering the spirit of most denominations, the fires of excitement were kept burning in two extreme divisions of the Christian camp. The Quakers and the Nonjurors were the two most fervent religious bodies at the end of the seventeenth century.

Here for the present I lay down my pen. I have endeavoured in preceding volumes to tell the story of ecclesiastical change, theological development, and religious life, amidst political scenes and incidents, of which that story was partly the cause and partly the effect. It is impossible to understand such an inner circle of thought, experience, and conduct, without an examination of national events occurring outside, nor can the state of one religious section be fully understood apart from its bearing on other communities: therefore I have interwoven the[460] threads of their respective destinies, and of their mutual relations and antagonisms. The series of struggles portrayed present something of an Epic interest; for during the Civil Wars there was strife for Ascendency, which ended in the triumph of Puritanism, and in the treatment of Anglicans, somewhat after a wretched fashion which had been set in former days. After the Restoration, the resentment of Anglicans came once more into play, and severe persecutions followed; yet efforts at Comprehension were made by healing spirits on both sides without effect. At the Revolution, as I have largely shown, experiments with a view to reunion were attempted with no better result, but a great and most beneficial change was accomplished by the legalising of freedom in religious thought and ecclesiastical action. The shield of the constitution was extended over previously persecuted Englishmen, and the age of Toleration, as it is termed, then began. Local interferences with the liberty of worship continued to occur, but they were contrary to law. The steps by which this consummation was accomplished I have somewhat minutely traced, and the earlier causes of the Revolution I have endeavoured to explore. The reign of William III. was the beginning of a new era in English History, and its ecclesiastical consequences can be ascertained only through a careful study of the great religious movements of the eighteenth century.

Whether I shall ever be able to pursue my investigations into that interesting subject depends on circumstances, which I must leave in the hands of Him whom in all the labours of my life I desire to serve.

I.—P. 107.

The following is a copy of the Bill after certain omissions and additions had been made, and the subjoined paper will give an idea of the extent of the latter:—

A Bill for uniting their Majesties’ Protestant Subjects. First reading, March 11, 1688; second reading, March 14, 1688.

Whereas the peace of the State is highly concerned in the peace of the Church, which therefore at all times, but especially in this conjuncture, is most necessary to be preserved: In order therefore to remove occasions of differences and dissatisfaccons which may arise amongst Protestants, Be it Enacted by the King and Queen’s most excellent Ma^ties, By and with the advice and consent of the Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and of the Commons in this present Parliam^t assembled, and by the authority of the same, That in order to y^e being a Minister of this Church, or the taking, holding, and enjoying any Ecclesiastical Benefice or promotion in the same, noe other subscripcon or declaracons shall from henceforward be required of any person, but onely the Declaracon menconed in a Statute made in the thirtieth year of the Reigne of the late King Charles the Second, Intituled, An Act for the more effectual preserving the King’s person and Governm^t by disabling Papists from sitting in either House of Parliam^t, and also the Declaration following, viz^t: I, A. B., doe submit to the prnt Constitucon of the Church of Engl. I acknowledge that the doctrine of it contains in it all things necessary to Salvation, and I will conforme myself to the worship and the government thereof, as established by Law; And I solemnly promise, in y^e exercise of my Ministry, to Preach and practice according thereunto.

And Be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid, that in order[462] to the being Collated or Instituted into any Benefice or promotion noe more or other Oaths shall be required to be taken of any person than onely the two Oaths menconed in the late Statute made in the first year of the Reigne of King William and Queen Mary, Intituled, an Act for removing and preventing all questions and disputes concerning the assembling and sitting of this present Parliament, and alsoe the Oath of Simony, and the Oath of Residence, any Statute or Canon to the contrary notwithstanding.

And Be it further Enacted, by the authority aforesaid, that the Two Declaracons aforesaid shall be made and subscribed in y^e said Oaths menconed in the s^d Stat, made in the first yeare of the Reigne of King William and Queene Mary, shall be taken in the presence of the Bishop or his Chancellor, or the Guardian of the Spiritualities, by every person that is to receive any Holy orders, or keepe any public Schoole, and alsoe the p^r Oathes and Declaracon, together with the said Oathes of Simony and residence by every person that is to have a Lycence to preach any Lecture or that is to be Collated or Instituted into any Benefice, or that is to be admitted into any Ecclesiastical dignity or promotion before such his Ordination, Lycencing, Collation, Institution, or Admission, respectively.

And be it further Enacted, that every person that shall from henceforward take any Degree in either of the Universities, or any fellowship, headship, or professors place in the same, shall, before his admission to that degree, or fellowship, or headship, or professors place, subscribe the aforesaid Declaracons and take the said Oaths mentioned in the said Statute, made in the first yeare of the Reigne of King William and Queen Mary, in the presence of the Vice-Chancellor or his Deputy. Provided that if any of the persons herein before required to make and subscribe the said Declaracons be not in Holy orders, such person shall not be obliged to make and subscribe all the Declaracon hereinbefore expressed, but onely this part thereof, viz.: I, A. B., doe submitt to the psent Constitucon of the Church of Engld. I acknowledge that the doctrine of it contains in it all things necessary to Salvacon, and I will conforme myselfe to the worship and the Governm^t thereof, as established by law, together with the other Declaracon aforesaid menconed in said Statute, made in the Thirtieth year of the Reigne of the late King Charles the Second.

And be it further Enacted, that the making and subscribing the said Declaracons, and taking the said Oaths as aforesaid, shall be as sufficient to all intents and purposes aforesaid as if the parties had made all other Declaracons and subscripcons, and taken all other oaths which[463] they should have taken by vertue of any law, Statute, or Canon, whatsoever.

And be it further Enacted by the authority aforesaid, that from henceforth noe Minister shall be obliged to wear a surplice in the time of reading prayers or performing any other Religious Office—Except onely in the King and Queen’s Ma^ties Chappells, and in all Cathedral or Collegiate Churches and Chappells of this Realme of England and Dominion of Wales. Provided alsoe that every Minister that shall not think fitt to wear a surplice as aforesaid shall nevertheless be obliged to performe all y^e Publick Offices of his Ministry in the Church in a Black Gowne, suitable to his Degree. And if it be in a place where a Gowne is not the dayly constant habit of the Minister, in every such parish the parish shall provide a Gowne for him, to be worne by him dureing the time of his officiating in the Church.

And be it further Enacted, by the authority aforesaid, that no Minister from henceforward shall be obliged to use the signe of the Crosse in Baptisme, nor any parent obliged to have his Child Christned by the Minister of the Parish if the said Minister will not use or omitt the signe of the Cross, according to the desire of the parent, who in that case may procure some other Minister of the Church of Engld to doe it.

And be it further Enacted, by y^e authority aforesaid, that noe Minister or Ecclesiastical person shall oblige any person to find Godfathers or Godmothers for any child to be baptized, soe as the parents or parent or other friend of such Child shall present the same to be Baptized, and shall answer for such child in like manner as the Godfathers and Godmothers are now required to doe.

And be it further Enacted, by y^e authority aforesaid, that noe Minister that shall officiate in the administracon of the Sacram^t of the Lord’s Supper shall deny or refuse to any person that desires to be admitted to the same, in a pew or seate in the Church, altho’ such person shall not receive it kneeling.

And whereas the Liturgie of y^e Church of England is capable of seve^ll alteracons and additions, which may free it from exception, and may conduce to y^e Glory of God and y^e better Edefication of the people, And whereas the Book of Canons is fitt to be reviewed and made suitable to the present state of the Church, And whereas there are divers abuses and defects in y^e Ecclesiastical Courts and Jurisdiction, and particularly for reformacon or removeing of scandalous Ministers, And whereas it is very fitt and profitable that Confirmacon be administred with such due preparacon and solemnity as is directed in the late King[464] Charles the Second’s Declaration concerning Ecclesiastical affairs, issued in the yeare of our Lord 1660, And a strict care be used in the Examinacon of such persons as desire to be admitted into Holy Orders, both as to their learning and manners:

Wee, your Ma^ties most dutifull and Loyall Subjects, the Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and the Commons in this present Parliam^t assembled, doe most humbly beseech your Majesties to issue out a Comission under yo^r Great Seale, directed to the Arch Bishops, and such Bishops, and such others of the Clergy of the Church of England, not exceeding the number of thirty in y^e whole, impowering and requiring them, or any twelve of them, to meet from time to time, and as often as shall be needfull, and to make such alteracons in the Liturgie and reformacon of the Canons and Ecclesiastical Courts as may conduce to the Establishm^t of the Church in peace and Tranquility, and to present such alteracons and reformacons to the Convocation and to the Parliam^t that the same may be approved and established in due forme of Law.

Alterations made in Committee.

II.—P. 114.

Forasmuch as some ease to scrupulous consciences, in the exercise of Religion, may be an effectual means to unite their Majesty’s Protestant subjects in interest and affection:

I.—Be it enacted by the King’s and Queen’s most excellent Majesties, by and with the advice and consent of the Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and the Commons in this present Parliament assembled, and by the authority of the same, That neither the Statute made in the 23^rd year of the reign of the late Queen Elizabeth, entituled, 23 Eliz., cap. 1.An Act to retain the Queen’s Majesty’s Subjects in their due obedience; nor the Statute made in the 29^th year of the said Queen, entituled, 29 Eliz., cap. 6.An Act for the more speedy and due execution of certain branches of the Statute made in the 23^rd year of the Queen’s Majesty’s reign, viz., the aforesaid Act; nor that branch or clause of a Statute made in the 1^st year of the reign of the said Queen, entituled, 29 Eliz., cap. 2, f 14.An Act for the Uniformity of Common Prayer and service in the Church, and administration of the Sacraments; whereby all persons, having no lawful or reasonable excuse to be absent, are required to resort to their Parish Church or Chapel, or some usual place where the Common Prayer shall be used, upon pain of punishment by the censures of the Church; and also, upon pain, that every person so offending shall forfeit for every such offence twelve pence. Nor the Statute made in the 3^rd year of the reign of the late King James the First, entituled, 3 Jac. I., cap. 4.An Act for the better discovering and repressing Popish recusants. Nor that other Statute, made in the same year, entituled, 3 Jac. I., cap. 5.An Act to prevent and avoid dangers which may grow by Popish Recusants. Nor any other Law or Statute of this realm made against Papists or Popish recusants, Exception.except the Statute made in the 25^th year of King Charles II., entituled, 25 Car. II., cap. 2.An Act for preventing dangers which may happen from Popish recusants. And except also the Statute made in the 30^th year of the said King Charles II., entituled, 30 Car. II., Stat. 2d, cap. 1.An Act for the more effectual preserving the King’s person and Government, by disabling Papists from sitting in either House of Parliament, shall be construed to extend to any person or persons dissenting from the Church of England, that shall take the oaths mentioned in a Statute made this present Parliament, entituled, _Supra_, cap. 1.An Act for removing and preventing all questions and disputes concerning the assembling and sitting of this present Parliament, and shall make and subscribe the Declaration mentioned in a Statute made in the 30^th year of the reign of King Charles II., entituled, Car. II., Stat. 2d, cap. 1.An Act to prevent Papists from sitting in either House of Parliament. Which Oaths and Declaration the Justices of Peace, at the General Sessions of the Peace to be held for the County or Place where such person shall live, are hereby required to tender and administer to such persons as shall offer themselves to Taking Declaration to be Registered.take, make, and subscribe the same, and thereof to keep a Register. Fee for register and Certificate.And likewise, none of the persons aforesaid shall give or pay, as any fee or reward, to any officer or officers belonging to the[467] Court aforesaid, above the sum of 6^d, nor that more than once, for his or their entry of his taking the said oaths, and making and subscribing the said Declaration; nor above the further sum of 6^d for any certificate of the same, to be made out and signed by the Officer or officers of the said Court.

II.—And be it further enacted by the Authority aforesaid, That all and every person and persons already convicted, or prosecuted in order to conviction of Recusancy, by Indictment, Information, Action of Debt, or otherwise grounded upon the aforesaid Statute; or any of them that shall take the said Oaths mentioned in the said Statute, made this present Parliament, and make and subscribe the Declaration aforesaid in the Court of Exchequer, or Assizes, or General or Quarter Sessions, to be held for the county where such person lives, and to be thence respectively certified into the Exchequer, shall be thenceforth exempted and discharged from all the Penalties, Seizures, Forfeitures, Judgments, and Executions, incurred by force of any the aforesaid Statutes, without any composition, fee, or further charge whatsoever.

III.—And be it further enacted, by the Authority aforesaid, That all and every person and persons that shall, as aforesaid, take the said Oaths, and make and subscribe the Declaration aforesaid, shall not be liable to any pains, penalties, or forfeitures, mentioned in an Act made in the 35^th year of the reign of the late Queen Elizabeth, entituled, 35 Eliz., cap. 1.An Act to retain the Queen’s Majesty’s Subjects in their due obedience. Nor in an Act made in the 22^nd year of the reign of the late King Charles II., entituled, 22 Car. II., cap. 1.An Act to prevent and suppress seditious Conventicles. Ecclesiastical Court.Nor shall any of the said persons be prosecuted in any Ecclesiastical Court, for, or by reason of, their Non-Conforming to the Church of England.

IV.—Provided always, and be it enacted by the Authority aforesaid, Private Meetings excluded.That if any assembly of persons, dissenting from the Church of England, shall be had in any place for Religious worship, with the doors locked, barred, or bolted, during any time of such meeting together, all and every person or persons that shall come to, and be at such meeting, shall not receive any benefit from this Law, but be liable to all the pains and penalties of all the aforesaid Laws recited in this Act, for such their meeting, notwithstanding his taking the Oaths, and his making and subscribing the Declaration aforesaid.

V.—Provided always, that nothing herein contained shall be construed to exempt any of the persons aforesaid from paying of Tithes, or other Parochial Duties, or any other duties to the Church or Minister, nor from any prosecution in any Ecclesiastical Court, or elsewhere, for the same.

VI.—And be it further enacted by the Authority aforesaid, That if any person dissenting from the Church of England, as aforesaid, shall hereafter be chosen, or otherwise appointed to bear the office of High-Constable, or Petit-Constable, Church-Warden, Overseer of the Poor, or any other Parochial or Ward Office, and such person shall scruple to take upon him any of the said offices, in regard of the Oaths, or any other matter or thing required by the law to be taken or done, in respect of such office, every such person shall and may execute such office or employment by a sufficient deputy, by him to be provided, that shall comply with the laws on this behalf. Provided always, the said deputy be allowed and approved by such person or persons in such manner as such officer or officers respectively should by law have been allowed and approved.

VII.—And be it further enacted by the Authority aforesaid, That no person dissenting from the Church of England in Holy Orders, or pretended Holy Orders, or pretending to Holy Orders, nor any Preacher or Teacher of any congregation of dissenting Protestants, that shall make and subscribe the Declaration aforesaid, and take the said Oaths, at the General or Quarter Sessions of the Peace, to be held for the County, Town, Parts, or Division where such person lives, which Court is hereby empowered to administer the same; and shall also declare his approbation of, and subscribe the Articles of Religion mentioned in the Statute made in the 13^th year of the reign of the late Queen Elizabeth, except the 34^th, 35^th, and 36^th, and these words of the 20^th Article, viz. 13 Eliz., cap. 12.[The Church hath power to decree Rites or Ceremonies, and authority in controversies of faith, and yet] shall be liable to any of the pains or penalties mentioned in an Act made in the 17^th year of the reign of King Charles II., entituled, 17 Car. II., cap. 2.An Act for restraining Non-Conformists from inhabiting in Corporations; nor the penalties mentioned in the aforesaid Act, made in the 22^nd year of his said late Majesty’s reign, for or by reason of such persons preaching at any meeting for the exercise of Religion; nor to the penalties of £100 mentioned in an Act made in the 13^th and 14^th of King Charles II., entituled, 13 and 14 Car. II., cap. 4.An Act for the Uniformity of public prayers, and administration of Sacraments, and other rites and ceremonies; and for establishing the form of making, ordaining, and consecrating of Bishops, Priests, and Deacons, in the Church of England, for officiating in any Congregation for the exercise of religion permitted and allowed by this Act.

VIII.—Provided always, that the making and subscribing the said Declaration, and the taking the said Oaths, and making the Declaration[469] of approbation and subscription to the said Articles, in manner as aforesaid, by every respective person or persons hereinbefore mentioned, at such General or Quarter Sessions of the Peace as aforesaid, shall be then and there entered of Record in the said Court, for which 6^d shall be payed to the Clerk of the Peace, and no more. Provided that such person shall not at any time preach in any place but Meeting doors to be unlocked.with the doors not locked, barred, or bolted, as aforesaid.

IX.—And whereas some Dissenting Protestants scruple the baptizing of infants, be it enacted by the Authority aforesaid, That every person in pretended Holy Orders, or pretending to Holy Orders, or Preacher or Teacher, that shall subscribe the aforesaid Articles of Religion, except before excepted; and also except part of the 27^th Article teaching Infant baptism, and shall take the Oaths, and make and subscribe the Declaration aforesaid, in manner aforesaid, every such person shall enjoy all the privileges, benefits, and advantages, which any other Dissenting Minister, as aforesaid, might have or enjoy by virtue of this Act.

X.—And be it further enacted by the Authority aforesaid, That every Teacher or Preacher in Holy Orders, or pretended Holy Orders, that is a Minister, Preacher, or Teacher of a Congregation, that shall take the Oaths herein required, and make and subscribe the Declaration aforesaid; and also subscribe such of the aforesaid Articles of the Church of England, as are required by this Act in manner aforesaid, shall be thenceforth exempted from serving upon any Jury, or from being chosen or appointed to bear the Office of Church-Warden, Overseer of the Poor, or any other Parochial or Ward Office, or other Office in any Hundred of any Shire, City, Town, Parish, Division, or Wapentake.

XI.—And be it further enacted by the Authority aforesaid, That any Justice of the Peace may at any time hereafter require any person that goes to any meeting for exercise of Religion, to make and subscribe the Declaration aforesaid, and also to take the said Oaths or Declaration of fidelity hereinafter mentioned, in case such person scruples the taking of an oath, and Penalty for refusing.upon refusal thereof such Justice of the Peace is hereby required to commit such person to prison without bail or mainprize, and to certify the name of such person to the next General or Quarter Sessions of the Peace, to be held for that County, City, Town, Part, or Division, where such person then resides; and if such person so committed, shall, upon a second tender at the General or Quarter Sessions, refuse to make and subscribe the Declaration aforesaid, such person refusing shall be then and there recorded, and shall be taken thenceforth, to all intents and purposes, for a Popish Recusant convict,[470] and suffer accordingly, and incur all the penalties and forfeitures of all the aforesaid laws.

XII.—And whereas there are certain other persons, Dissenters from the Church of England, who scruple the taking of any oath, be it enacted by the authority aforesaid, Altered as to Quakers by 8 Geo. I., cap. 6.That every such person shall make and subscribe the aforesaid Declaration; and also this Declaration of Fidelity following:

I, A. B., do sincerely promise, and solemnly declare, before God and the world, that I will be true and faithful to King William and Queen Mary; and I do solemnly profess and declare that I do from my heart abhor, detest, and renounce, as impious and heretical, that damnable Doctrine and Position, That Princes excommunicated, or deprived by the Pope, or any authority of the See of Rome, may be deposed or murthered by their subjects, or any other whatsoever. And I do declare, that no foreign Prince, Person, Prelate, State, or Potentate, hath, or ought to have, any Power, Jurisdiction, Superiority, Pre-eminence, or Authority, Ecclesiastical or Spiritual, within this Realm.

I, A. B., profess Faith in God the Father, and in Jesus Christ His eternal Son, the true God, and in the Holy Spirit, one God blessed for evermore; and do acknowledge the Holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testament to be given by Divine Inspiration.

Which Declaration and Subscription shall be made and entered of Record at the General Quarter Sessions of the Peace for the County, City, or Place, where every such person shall then reside. And every such person that shall make and subscribe the two Declarations and Profession aforesaid, being thereunto required, shall be exempted from all the pains and penalties of all and every the afore-mentioned Statutes made against Popish Recusants, or Protestant Nonconformists; and also from the penalties of an Act made in the 5^th year of the reign of the late Queen Elizabeth, entituled, 5 Eliz., cap. 1.An Act for the Assurance of the Queen’s Royal Power over all Estates and Subjects within her Dominions, for or by reason of such persons not taking, or refusing to take, the Oath mentioned in the said Act; and also from the penalties of an Act made in the 13^th and 14^th years of the reign of King Charles II., entituled, 13 and 14 Car. II., cap. 1.An Act for preventing mischiefs that may arise by certain persons called Quakers refusing to take lawful oaths, and enjoy all the other Benefits, Privileges, and Advantages, under the like Limitations, Provisions, and Conditions, which any other Dissenters should or ought to enjoy by virtue of this Act.

XIII.—Provided also, and be it enacted by the authority aforesaid, That in case any person shall refuse to take the said Oaths when tendered to them, which every Justice of the Peace is hereby impowered to do, such person shall not be admitted to make and subscribe the two Declarations aforesaid, though required thereunto, either before any Justice of the Peace, or at the General or Quarter Sessions, before or after any conviction of Popish Recusancy, as aforesaid, unless such person can, within thirty-one days after such tender of the Declaration to him, produce two sufficient Protestant witnesses to testify upon oath, that they believe him to be a Protestant Dissenter, or a Certificate under the hands of four Protestants, who are conformable to the Church of England, or have taken the oaths, and subscribed the Declaration above mentioned, and shall produce a certificate under the hands and seals of six or more sufficient men of the congregation to which he belongs, owning him for one of them.

XIV.—Provided also, and be it enacted by the Authority aforesaid, That until such certificate, under the hands of six of his Congregation, as aforesaid, be produced, and two Protestant witnesses come to attest his being a Protestant Dissenter, or a certificate under the hands of four Protestants, as aforesaid, be produced, the Justice of the Peace shall, and hereby is required to take a Recognizance, with two Sureties, in the penal sum of fifty pounds, to be levied of his goods, chattels, lands, and tenements, to the use of the King’s and Queen’s Majesties, their heirs and successors, for his producing the same; and if he cannot give such security, to commit him to prison, there to remain until he has produced such certificates, or two witnesses, as aforesaid.

XV.—Provided always, and it is the true intent and meaning of this Act, That all the laws made and provided for the frequenting of Divine Service on the Lord’s Day, commonly called Sunday, shall be still in force, and executed against all persons that offend against the said laws, except such persons come to some Congregation, or Assembly of Religious Worship, allowed or permitted by this Act.

XVI.—Provided always, and be it further enacted by the Authority aforesaid, that neither this Act, nor any Clause, Article, or thing, herein contained, shall extend, or be construed to extend, to give any ease, benefit, or advantage, to any Papist or Popish Recusant whatsoever, or any person that shall deny in his preaching or writing the Doctrine of the blessed Trinity, as it is declared in the aforesaid Articles of Religion.

XVII.—Provided always, and be it enacted by the Authority aforesaid, [472]That if any person or persons, at any time or times, after the 10^th day of June, do, How punished. See 1 Geo. 1, stat. 2, cap. 5, f 4.and shall willingly, and of purpose, maliciously, or contemptuously, come into any Cathedral, or Parish Church, Chapel, or other Congregation, permitted by this Act, and disquiet or disturb the same; or misuse any Preacher or Teacher, such person or persons, upon proof thereof, before any Justice of Peace, by two or more sufficient witnesses, shall find two sureties to be bound by recognizance in the penal sum of fifty pounds, and in default of such sureties shall be committed to prison, there to remain till the next General or Quarter Session; and upon conviction of the said offence, at the said General or Quarter Sessions, shall suffer the pain and penalty of twenty pounds, to the use of the King’s and Queen’s Majesties, their Heirs and Successors.

XVIII.—Provided always, That no Congregation or Assembly for religious worship shall be permitted or allowed by this Act until the place of such meeting shall be certified to the Bishop of the Diocese, or to the Archdeacon of that Archdeaconry, or to the Justices of the Peace, at the General or Quarter Sessions of the Peace for the County, City, or Place, in which such meeting shall be held and registered in the said Bishop’s or Archdeacon’s Court respectively, or recorded at the said General or Quarter Sessions; the register or clerk of the Peace whereof respectively is hereby required to register the same, and to give certificate thereof to such person as shall demand the same, for which there shall be no greater fee nor reward taken than the sum of sixpence.

III.—P. 229.

To prevent the possibility of misapprehension, it may be proper to remark that the extracts I have given from Macpherson’s Original Papers, are intended simply to show what was reported and desired by the Jacobite party. Many statements in the correspondence are utterly untrustworthy. History has to do not only with what has been actually accomplished or attempted, but with what has been thought and said; for rumour and falsehood have been powerful factors in the affairs of this world.

IV.—P. 263.

Victoria, by the Grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, Queen, Defender of the Faith, to the * * * * * Greeting. Whereas by the advice and assent of our Council for certain arduous and urgent affairs concerning us, the state and defence of our said United Kingdom and the Church, we have ordered a certain Parliament to be holden at our City of Westminster on the * day of * next ensuing, and there to treat and have conference with the Prelates, Great Men, and Peers of our Realm. We strictly enjoining command you, upon the faith and love by which you are bound to us, that the weightiness of the said affairs and imminent perils considered (waiving all excuses) you be at the said day and place personally present with us, and with the said Prelates, Great Men, and Peers, to treat and give your counsel upon the affairs aforesaid. And this, as you regard us and our honour, and the safety and defence of the said United Kingdom and Church, and despatch of the said affairs, in no wise do you omit. Forewarning the Dean and Chapter of your Church of * * and the Archdeacons and all the Clergy of your Diocese, that they the said Dean and Archdeacons, in their proper persons, and the said Chapter by one, and the said Clergy by two, meet Proctors severally, having full and sufficient authority from them, the said Chapter and Clergy, at the said day and place, be personally present to consent to those things which then and there by the Common Council of our said United Kingdom (by the favour of the Divine clemency) shall happen to be ordained. Witness ourself at Westminster, the * of * in the * * year of our Reign.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] For the early life of the Prince of Orange, see The Life of William III. 8vo., Lond., 1703; The Hist. of King William III., 3 vols. 8vo., 1703; The Life of William, Prince of Orange, 8vo., Lond., 1688.

[2] Own Times, ii. 305, i. 689.

[3] Own Times, i. 691.

[4] Burnet evidently wished to make William appear as much of a Churchman as possible.

[5] These anecdotes are found in a MS. Life of Hooper, by Prouse. See Life of Ken, by a Layman, 101–3.

[6] Hawkins’ Life of Ken, 7. In the Life of Ken, by a Layman, 105, we are told that William was much offended at the marriage of Count Zulestein with a lady whom he had seduced—which marriage is represented as brought about by Ken, to William’s displeasure. Macaulay, who examined William’s correspondence with Bentinck, on the contrary, informs us of his vexation at learning that one of his household, after ruining a girl of good reputation, refused to marry her. Which is right?

[7] Dalrymple’s Memoirs, i. 183.

[8] Clarendon Correspondence, ii. 484.

[9] Calamy’s Hist. Account, i. 147. He describes the prophetic dream of a Quaker respecting the Revolution, i. 148. Sewell, in his Hist. of the Quakers, ii. 353, speaks of a prophetic letter (containing, I presume, an account of that dream), written by a Quaker at London to his friend, as a forgery.

[10] Dalrymple, iii. appen. part i. 228.

[11] Ibid., 238.

[12] See curious correspondence in Dalrymple, iii. appen. i. 240. Throughout the business it was “diamond cut diamond.”

[13] Patrick’s Works, ix. (autobiography) 513.

[14] Macpherson’s Hist., i. 510.

[15] Gutch’s Collectanea Curiosa, i. 393–397.

[16] My friend, the Rev. D. Hewitt, of Exeter, informs me: “I find the Mayor of Exeter for the year 1688 was a Jefford, or Gifford, as it is sometimes spelt. He had acquired a fortune in business as a dyer. In religion he was a Presbyterian. He was made Mayor by Order of the Privy Council, when James II. required many Corporations to surrender their charters. The King’s mandamus to his ‘trusty and well-beloved,’ commanding them to remove the then present Mayor (J. Snell) and other members of the Corporation, and to elect and admit ‘our well-beloved Thomas Jefford’ to be Mayor, is dated 28th of November, 1687. Jenkins, our local historian, says, ‘that not only the Mayor, but the other members of the newly-created Chamber, were Presbyterians. When the Corporation sent up an address to the King, congratulating him on the birth of a Prince, the Mayor received the honour of knighthood. When the King turned penitent, as you are aware, one of the fruits of his repentance was the restoration of their charters to corporate towns, and this caused Sir Thomas to descend from his corporate dignity, and return into an obscurity where, thus far, I have not been able to trace him. Perhaps the well-known fact that the Mayor was a Presbyterian, might have something to do with the Bishop’s allusion to the Conventicle.”

[17] Aug. 16, 1688. Bodleian, Tanner MSS., xxviii.

[18] Tanner MSS., 28, 113, printed in Gutch’s Collectanea, i. 404.

[19] July 27, 1688. Wilkin’s Concilia, iv. 618.

[20] D’Oyley’s Life of Sancroft, i. 326–8. I am very sceptical about this report.

[21] London Gazette, 2384.

[22] Trelawny wrote an obsequious letter (21st of May, 1686) to the Earl of Sunderland, stating that he had reproved a clergyman for an impudent sermon with innuendoes, that though not absolutely in fear, yet they were not wholly free from some apprehensions of Popery. Trelawny himself, in this letter, declares that His Majesty was so careful of the interests of the Church of England, that though the “foolish heates” of some of its members had given him just provocation, he had curtailed none of its liberties. The Bishop complains of his Episcopal income being desperately poor. Facsimiles of National MSS., iv. 92.

[23] Clarendon Correspondence. Lord Dartmouth says, “Not long before his (Bishop Morley’s) death (for he then kept his chamber), my father carried me with him to Farnham Castle. I was not above twelve years old, but remember the Bishop talked much of the Duke, and concluded with desiring my father to tell him from him, that if ever he depended upon the doctrine of non-resistance, he would find himself deceived, for there were very few of that opinion, though there were not many of the Church of England that thought proper to contradict it in terms, but was very sure they would in practice. My father told me he had frequently put King James in mind of Morley’s last message to him, though to very little purpose; for all the answer was, that the Bishop was a very good man, but grown old and timorous.” Dalrymple, iii. appen. 289.

[24] Life of Ken, by a Layman, 317.

[25] Clarendon Correspondence.

[26] Gazette, 2386.

[27] Tanner MSS. D’Oyley’s Life of Sancroft, i. 339–344.

[28] D’Oyley, i. 345.

[29]

For the King.

O Almighty God, the blessed and only Potentate, we offer up our humble supplications and prayers to Thy Divine goodness, beseeching Thee in this time of danger to save and protect our most Gracious King. Give Thy Holy Angels charge over him; preserve his Royal Person in health and safety; inspire him with wisdom and justice in all his counsels; prosper all his undertakings for Thy honour and service with good success; fill his princely heart with a fatherly care of all his people; and give all his subjects grace always to bear faith and true allegiance to his Majesty, that both King and people, joining together to promote Thy glory, and conscientiously discharging their duties in their several stations, may all give Thee thanks and praise for Thy most mighty protection, and for all other Thy great mercies vouchsafed to us, through Jesus Christ Thy Son our Saviour. Amen.

For Repentance.

Almighty God and most merciful Father, we miserable sinners do here humbly acknowledge before Thee, that we are unworthy of the least of all Thy mercies. We confess, O Lord, in the bitterness of our souls, that we have grievously sinned against Thee; that all orders of men amongst us have transgressed Thy righteous laws; that we have hitherto rendered both Thy mercies and Thy judgments ineffectual to our amendment. It is of Thy mere mercy, O Lord, that we are not consumed; for which our souls do magnify and bless Thy name. O God, who hast hitherto spared us, to the end that Thy goodness might lead us to repentance, let it be Thy good pleasure to give unto us all that godly sorrow which worketh repentance to salvation not to be repented of; that Thou mayest turn from Thy heavy displeasure against us; and mayest rejoice over us to do us good, through the merits and mediation of Jesus Christ our Lord and only Saviour. Amen.

There is a third prayer, for Unity. The three were ordered by His Majesty to be printed.

[30] Macpherson (Hist. i. 518) succinctly and completely refutes the assertion.

[31] Gutch, i. 414.

[32] Tanner MSS., vol. xxviii. 153. There is another letter on the same subject, vol. xxvii. 5.

[33] Dalrymple, i. 210.

[34] Ibid., i. 211. Reresby, who sympathized with James, remarks, respecting the invasion: “Neither the gentry, nor the commonalty were under any concern about it: said they, ‘The Prince comes only to maintain the Protestant religion—he will do no harm to England.’” p. 358.

[35] D’Oyley, i. 355.

[36] Compton’s own account. Gulch, i. 443.

[37] The following passage in a memorandum, written by Trelawny, Bishop of Exeter, shows how anxious one at least of these Bishops was afterwards to deny that they had anything to do with bringing William over to England:—“Having in a discourse with Mr. Francis Robartes, a little time after the coronation of King William, resented to him the impudence of the person, whoever he was, that insinuated in the Prince of Orange’s Declaration, as if the Bishops had invited him to come over, &c., which I verily believe to be utterly false; he replied, ‘I took an occasion to discourse Will Harbord about the particular, and asked him whether it was true; his answer was, No, damn ’em, they were not so honest, but I caus’d it to be put in, to raise a jealousy and hatred on both sides, that the King, believing it, might never forgive them, and they, fearing that he did believe, might be push’d for their own safety to wish and help on his ruin.’”—First Report of the Royal Commission on Hist. MSS., 52.

There is also “Draft of a letter to the Bishop of Worcester, dated 25th Jan., 1716, denying that the Prince of Orange was invited by the Bishops; and another, dated 26th Feb., asking the Bishop of Worcester to draw up a paper showing that the Bishops did not invite, &c., &c., ‘tho’ we thought ourselves obliged to accept of the deliverance.’”—See same Report.

[38] Whether or not on this occasion a paper was introduced by Sancroft of the land demanded by the King, certainly such a paper is in existence, bearing date the day of this meeting. “Whereas there hath been of late a general apprehension, that His Highness the Prince of Orange hath an intention to invade this kingdom in hostile manner; and (as ’tis said) makes this one reason of his attempt, that he hath been thereunto invited by several English Lords, both temporal and spiritual; I William, Archbishop of Cant., do for my own discharge profess and declare That I never gave him any such invitation by word or writing or otherwise, nor do I know, nor can believe, that any of my reverend brethren, the Bishops, have in any such wise invited him. And all this I aver upon my word, and in confirmation [for which word in MS. attestation is substituted] thereof have subscribed my name, here at Lambeth, this 3rd day of November, 1688, W. C.” Gutch, ii. 366.

[39] The following paragraph, omitted by D’Oyley, occurs in the original document: “Here also something was added which I (the Bp. of Rochester) do not distinctly remember. I think it was to this effect, that this way of men’s being so called to purge themselves might be a thing of very tender concernment to the liberties and properties of the subject, especially of the Peers, and therefore we begged His Majesty would require no more of us in particular, but would rest contented with publishing this our declaration of our innocency.” Tanner MSS.

[40] Gutch, i. 426–440.

[41] Smiles’ Huguenots, 232.

[42] Smiles’ Huguenots, 256.

[43] Rapin, iii. 285.

[44] Macaulay, iii. 226. Dr. Stanley, whose words I have quoted, refers to M’Cormick’s preface to Carstairs. State Papers, Lectures on the Church of Scotland, 116.

[45] Burnet, i. 789.

[46] “The crimson and gold purse and pincushion, which she is said to have worn at her girdle on that occasion, and her chain and locket, are still preserved in the family.”

“Before this,” adds my informant, “one of the ‘Taunton maids,’ who assisted in working a banner for Monmouth, was sent away, to be hidden from Judge Jeffreys and his creatures, who where hunting up all they could lay hands upon to extort fines from; and our ancestors having an estate near, and perhaps connections at Taunton, the girl was sent to Totnes to them, and was hidden in the roof of their house for some time. The place could only be reached by a ladder, which was removed when not wanted. There the poor girl’s food was taken to her at night, and her presence was only known to the heads of the family. The house stood where the entrance to the Priory now is.”

[47] Harl. Miscell., i. 449.

“But being soon undeceived on our landing, we found the benefit of their provision; and instead of ‘Votre serviteur, Monsieur,’ they were entertained with ‘Mynheer, can ye Dutch spraken,’ upon which they ran away from the house, but the Lady Carey and a few old servants.”

[48] “A farmer, named Searle, had holdings at this time, under the Dean and Chapter of Exeter, in the parish of Staverton. One of his grandsons died at an advanced age about seven years ago. He used to state that when he was a boy there lived an old man at Staverton, over ninety years of age, who told him that he, and others, were sent by his master, Mr. Searle’s grandfather, to the high road, with cartloads of apples, that the Prince’s troops might help themselves.

“Macaulay mentions the fact that Sir Edward Seymour was the first person of importance who joined the Prince at Exeter. It is however believed that the two had met privately, before Sir Edward publicly gave in his adhesion. A cottage still exists near Longcombe, on the borders of the parish of Berry Pomeroy, adjoining Totnes, still known as ‘Parliament House,’ where the Prince is said to have held a Council. The cottage is situated on the property of Sir Edward, in a retired spot, and not above two miles from the line of march from Brixham to Newton.” MS. Information.

[49] Le Neve’s Archbishops, 269.

[50] Quoted in Smiles’ Huguenots, 256.

[51] I give this story as it is found in the Harleian Miscellany, and Murch’s Hist. of the Presbyterian Churches. Ferguson was first a Presbyterian, then an Independent, and for some time he acted as assistant to Dr. Owen. Calamy, chiefly on the authority of Burnet, gives him a bad character, and this is endorsed in Palmer’s Nonconf. Memorial, and by Wilson in his Dissenting Churches, i. 284.

It is said that there are letters in existence which authorize a different idea of Ferguson than the current one. However this may be, there can, I apprehend, be no doubt of his eccentricity and violence, and of his taking the side of the Jacobite plotters after the Revolution, as he had taken the opposite side before. See his own extraordinary letter to Secretary Trenchard. Ralph (ii. 524) gives a full account of it.

[52] Dalrymple, i. 225.

[53] Note in Wilson’s Life of Defoe, i. 110.

[54] Tanner MSS., xxviii. 311. Dec. 29, 1688.

[55] Ken’s Life, by a Layman, 324.

[56] See Gazette, Nov.

[57] Life of James II., ii. 209–212.

[58] Sprat’s History of the Desertion, 62. Macpherson mentions a meeting held the same evening by the friends of the Prince of Orange, at which Compton was present. Hist. of Great Britain, i. 530. Original Papers, i. 281. Reresby is referred to as an authority, but I can find nothing about this circumstance in his Diary.

[59] Farnham Castle, Nov. 25, 1688. Tanner MSS., xxviii.

[60] Ralph, i. 1073.

[61] Gazettes under dates.

[62] Clarendon’s Diary, Dec. 3; ii. 214.

[63] Ibid., Dec. 5, 6.

[64] Reresby, 363, 364.

[65] Burnet, i. 793.

[66] Life of William III., 1703.

[67] Ralph, i. 1051.

[68] Burnet, i. 793.

[69] See Sprat’s History of the Desertion.

[70] Wilson’s Life of De Foe, i. 159.

[71] Tour through Great Britain, ii. 64–70. The excitement extended into Essex.

“Dec. 12. We were in a fright at Coxall (Coggeshall) in the night, and in many places, by reason of lies that were raised about some Irish soldiers that were coming, they said.” Buftons Diary, Dale’s Annals of Coggeshall, 269.

[72] Thoresby’s Diary, i. 188–191.

[73] Diary and Correspondence, ii. 506.

[74] These notes are preserved amongst the Tanner MSS., xxviii. 285, 286.

[75] Dalrymple, i. 248. Memoirs of James II., ii. 270.

[76] Account of the Life of Symon Patrick, Works, ix. 514. The Dean says it was the 17th, but this is incorrect; it must have been the 18th.

[77] This account is taken from a Diary in what is called the Historical Register Entering Book, vol. ii. 383. Morice MSS., Dr. Williams’ Library.

[78] Ralph, i. 1073.

[79] Diary and Correspondence, ii. 235.

[80] Ibid., ii. 234.

[81] Stuart Papers, quoted in D’Oyley, i. 410.

[82] Diary and Correspondence, ii. 237.

[83] Ibid., ii. 238.

[84] Diary and Correspondence, Jan. 3, 1689. Vol. ii. 240.

[85] D’Oyley’s Life of Sancroft, i. 415.

[86] “It is most certain that in the Palace of Lambeth, there were meetings of the Bishops and several of the Clergy, both before and after the Archbishop’s suspension, frequently held; so as they were even publicly taken notice of by their enemies, who, in derision, were wont to call them the Lambeth Club, and the Holy Jacobite Club.” Lansd. MSS. Kennet’s Coll., 987, 151.

[87] D’Oyley’s Life of Sancroft, i. 424.

[88] Diary, Jan. 15, 1689.

[89] Diary and Correspondence, ii. 247.

[90] Patrick’s Life. Works, ix. 515.

[91] Hunter’s Life of Heywood, 358.

[92] Life of Philip Henry, 187.

[93] Parl. Hist., v. 24.

[94] Ralph, ii. 28. They were the Bishops of London, Rochester, Norwich, Ely, Chichester, Gloucester, Bath and Wells, Peterborough, Lincoln, Bristol, and St. Asaph.

[95] Quoted in Lathbury’s Hist. of Convocation, 317.

[96] Journals of Lords. Compare Clarendon’s Diary and Correspondence, ii. 257.

[97] Parl. Hist., v. 51.

[98] The thanks were conveyed to the two Archbishops, who acknowledged them, repeating expressions of attachment to Protestantism, which they again pronounced “absolutely irreconcilable both to Popery and arbitrary power.” Gutch, i. 447.

[99] Parl. Hist., v. 59.

[100] Dalrymple, i. 267.

[101] Parl. Hist., v. 75.

[102] Burnet, i. 818.

[103] Dalrymple, i. 269.

[104] Hallam’s Const. Hist., ii. 256.

[105] It is not my province to discuss the political aspect of the Revolution; but I hope I shall be forgiven for quoting the following passage by a distinguished Frenchmen, M. d’Pressense; it is gratifying to all Englishmen and Americans:—“I call restorative the Government of a William III., or the Presidency of a Washington, because these great, good men have established society on respect for right, and have given to it for safeguard a well-regulated liberty, that is to say, a liberty which regulates itself: but I call, on the contrary, anarchical and destructive, every arbitrary régime, whether it be democratic or monarchical, and I find it so much the more dangerous the more skilfully it has organised the country of which it disposes at its pleasure.”

[106] Burke’s Reflections on the Revolution in France. Works, v. 103.

[107] Parl. Hist., v. iii.

[108] Parl. Hist., v. 111–113.

[109] Church of the Restoration, ii. 42.

[110] Burnet, i. 803.

[111] Hist. of his Own Time, ii. 8.

[112] Birch’s Life of Tillotson, 330.

[113] Parl. Hist., v. 129–131. Feb. 20.

[114] Ralph, ii. 63.

[115] Memoirs of Sir John Reresby, 398. It must be remembered that his sympathies were with James.

[116] Clarke’s Memoirs of the Wesley Family, i. 320.

[117] See Commons’ Journals, March 7, April 1, and Parl. Hist., v. 137.

[118] Lords’ Journals, March 16.

[119] Journals, March 23.

[120] Burnet, ii. 9, 10.

[121] Commons’ Journals, April 13.

[122] Reresby, 401. March 28.

[123] Life of Kettlewell, 217, 218.

[124] Parl. Hist., v. 199–206.

[125] Macaulay, iv. 121. Stanley’s Memorials of Westminster Abbey, &c., 94, and Bufton’s Diary in Dale’s Annals of Coggleshall, 270.

[126] See Church of the Restoration, ii. 145.

[127] Autobiography, 516.

[128] Somer’s Tracts (old edition), i. 380. There is a scheme of Comprehension by altering the Prayer-Book in several ways amongst the Tanner MSS., 290, 242, without date. Also another for indulgence that Dissenters be registered, and make a declaration that their Nonconformity is simply on account of conscience, and in no way through crossness, worldly interest, or design to disturb the peace of Church or State. As for such as lead loose lives, and are openly profane, the Magistrate may require their conformity until, in the judgment of charity, they may be comprehended within the number of conscientious Dissenters. Tanner MSS., 80, 108.

[129] March 23. MSS. Journal (Historical Register, Entering Book, ii.), Dr. Williams’ Library.

[130] Burnet, ii. 10. Soon after this, the Dissenting Diarist reports (Entering Book, ii. 511) a “variety of debates in the House of Lords for Comprehension and Indulgence. The Bishop of Lincoln would by no means let the surplice be laid aside, for the Church had established it, and the taking of it away would be a reflection upon the Church, as if it had erred in establishing it. The Archbishop of York said he thought the Dissenters were no Christians, for they refused to receive the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper, and the Sacrament of Baptism, in such manner as it had been used in this and other Christian Churches, nobody knows how long; and therefore were not to be comprehended or indulged.”

[131] See Lords’ Journal.

[132] Entering Book, April 13. The following entry appears on the 20th:—“The Lords have sent down their Bill for uniting Protestant subjects to the Commons, and the Commons have yet before them a Bill of their own, both for the uniting of Protestant subjects and for giving indulgence to those that cannot be comprehended. The Commons’ Bill for ease and indulgence was on Monday, the 15th, ordered to be read a second time this day fortnight.”

[133] April 13. Parl. Hist., v. 217. The following passage occurs in the Entering Book, 217, Wednesday, May 15:—“Commons proceeded upon their Indulgence and Toleration Bill for Dissenters. The anti-interest seemed to be that day very calm and mild; and Sir Thomas Clarges took notice that the Lords’ Bill for Indulgence seemed very grateful to those whom it most concerned, and he was very well content it might pass. Yet he thought fit the House of Commons’ own Indulgence Bill should also be committed, and both of the Bills being committed, they might take anything that was good out of their own Bill and insert it into the Lords’ Bill. Of this opinion was Mr. Sacheverel.” It is added, “The Commons’ Bill has one excellent passage in it that is not in the Lords’ Bill, i.e. it repeals all the penal statutes against the Protestant Dissenters, when the Lords’ Bill does only suspend them, and restrain them to that matter of meetings alone, but leaves them in force upon all other accounts.”

[134] The Lords’ Bill for uniting their Majesty’s Protestant subjects will be printed in the Appendix.

[135] “The party which was now beginning to be formed against the Government pretended great zeal for the Church, and declared their apprehension that it was in danger; which was imputed by many to the Earl of Nottingham.”—Birch’s Tillotson, 178.

[136] Reresby, 390.

[137] Burnet, ii. 11.

[138] Somerville’s Political Transactions, 275: Smith’s remarks—Lathbury’s Nonjurors, 158.

[139] Ralph, ii. 73.

[140] Life, by Matthew Henry, 181.

[141] There were laymen who longed for Comprehension; but they looked with suspicion upon the proceedings of the Lower House. “The truth of the story,” says one of them, “is that neither House of Parliament was able to reform any one thing that was amiss in the State. And the House of Commons was stronger by eighty or one hundred voices to reform things amiss in the State than in the Church, and therefore, in such a juncture as this, none but malicious enemies and weak friends to Dissenters would bring in any Bill for the uniting or giving impunity to Dissenters, because all wise men knew they would be prostituted and made ineffectual to their end, and were intended so to be by those cunning men that brought them in, or influenced others so to do, so that all true friends to the Reformation or to the uniting of Protestants would fain have them laid aside, at least till a better opportunity.”—April, 1689. Entering Book, 534.

[142] The following remarks by Dalrymple are worth insertion:—“Although in history the causes of events should be pointed out before the events themselves are related, yet a contrary method becomes sometimes necessary. There were various causes of these disappointments. The Church party was by far the most numerous in Parliament, many being Tories in the Church who were Whigs in the State. A number of members who had deserted their duty in Parliament, returned, and took their seats during these debates, in order to protect the Church from the invasion—as they called it—which was making on her. The assistance of the Dissenters against Popery, and in defence of liberty, was now no longer needed; and their short-lived connections with the late King were recollected. Ancient antipathies with new jealousies started up in the minds of the Tories, and both were increased by the freedoms with which some of the Whig Lords, particularly Macclesfield and Mordaunt, treated the Church in their speeches and protests; for even those could not bear to hear her treated with indecency, who had never attended to her tenets. Of the Whig party of the established communion, many looked upon matters of religion with indifference, and thought, that the toleration in favour of all opinions would be the more easily maintained in proportion to the greater numbers who stood in need of it. Of the Dissenters themselves, many of the Presbyterians were afraid lest they should weaken the strength of their party by dividing the Dissenting interest; and the more rigid Sectaries looked with envy at that participation of honours in Church and in State, which the Presbyterians were to obtain, and from which they themselves were to be excluded. There were a few in Parliament too, of firm minds and remoter views, who, reflecting that the Dissenting interest had been always as much attached to liberty, as the Church of England had been to prerogative, thought that opposition and liberty would be buried in the same grave, and that great factions should be kept alive, both in Church and in State for the sake of the State itself.”—Dalrymple, i. 318.

[143] Hunter’s Life of Heywood, 200.

[144] The following entries in the Hist. Register, Williams’ MSS., relate to subsequent conversations and rumours on the subject:—Wednesday, June 12. “Mr. John Howe, the Nonconformist, had some occasion to go to Hampton Court, and His Majesty seeing him, was pleased to call him to him, and speak to him much to this purpose: ‘That he hoped the Indulgence Bill did fit them well.’ Mr. Howe answered, ‘It did so, and they had some purpose to return His Majesty their humble thanks for it, if it was his pleasure that they should do.’ The King answered, ‘That he was very well satisfied of their good affection to his person and Government, that were mostly concerned in that Bill, and therefore on that account it was not needful.’ His Majesty said to this purpose, ‘He wished the Comprehension Act might also pass.’ Mr. Howe answered, ‘So did he, heartily, if it might be of latitude sufficient to answer its ends,’ etc. Saith His Majesty, ‘What clauses must be in it to make it to answer its end?’ ‘Amongst others, a clause that may allow for the time past such ordination as is allowed in Holland and other Reformed Churches, for we can never concur to any clause that condemns their ordination. And besides, in Queen Elizabeth’s time the Parliament did allow of ordination by Presbyters’ (13 Eliz., c. 12). Saith His Majesty, ‘It is a very good suggestion, and there is great reason they should grant all now, they did then, and more.’ This, and much other respective discourse of this kind, His Majesty was pleased to move to Mr. Howe.”—Saturday, June 22. “There has been some consideration had of the Comprehension Bill for the fortnight last past. The Bishops seem to have entrusted the Bishop of St. Asaph and the Bishop of Salisbury in that affair. Mr. John Hambden manageth it together with them, and Mr. Spanhemias (the son of the famous Spanhemias) doth very much concern himself in it. Of what latitude he is in point of Conformity I well know not, whether he fall off to the Conformists as Mr. Alex (Allix) and other Frenchmen. They seem to be contented to allow of Presbyterian ordination till 1660 or 1662; but the most that are living were ordained since then, and so will be kept out. The form of subscription is yet somewhat unsatisfactory. It were very well if the Bill were quite laid aside, or were made of latitude enough to answer its ends. His Majesty shows himself very well affected to it, and would be very glad that it should pass, so as to make those concerned easy.”

[145] Parl. Hist., v. 263. It is greatly to be lamented that the debates on many important questions of the period are totally lost, and those reported are given in such a confused state as to be in some cases unintelligible. Such is the case with the debates here noticed. Reporters were proscribed. In 1694 a news-letter writer, named Dyer, was summoned by the House of Commons, and reprimanded for reporting their proceedings.

[146] See Toleration Act, in Appendix. The following passage occurs in the Entering Book, May 25:—“I do not understand the mystery of it, nor the true reason why the Lords Spiritual, and those Lords and Commons of their sentiments, did pass that Bill; some say the Bishops passed it with that latitude, concluding it would have been stopped in the Commons’ House, and the Commons would not stop it, because then the imputation of persecution would have been laid upon them. But I think there was some greater reason, that at that time induced them to pass it. Certain it is the Devil’s Tavern Club did call for it, and did promote the passing of it. Nota.—And its as certain, that they do now heartily repent they have passed it, and if it were not passed they would stop it.”

Amongst the Camb. MSS. (Strype Cor., iii. 191) I find this note addressed to Strype: “I desire you will give your Deanery notice, that I shall be glad to meet them at Woodford upon Thursday, the 26th of this instant, at nine o’clock in the morning, to confer about the Act of Toleration. Be pleased to employ the Apparitor to summon them, and he shall be satisfied for his pains by, Sir, your assured friend and brother,

“H. London.

“June 19, 1689.”

[147] Life, by Lord King, 341. Preface to Letters on Toleration, 1765. Locke remarks, in a letter dated June 6, 1689, “You have no doubt heard before this time that Toleration is at length established by law, not perhaps to the extent which you, and such as you, sincere, and candid, and unambitious, Christians would desire; but it is something to have proceeded thus far. By such a beginning, I trust that those foundations of peace and liberty are laid on which the Church of Christ was at first established.”—Familiar Letters, 330.

[148] Ralph, ii. 225.

[149] Gough’s Hist. of the Quakers, iii. 232–235.

Sewel says nothing like what I have quoted from Gough. He remarks respecting the Bill, “By this we now see the religion of the Quakers acknowledged, and tolerated by an Act of Parliament.”—Hist., ii. 357.

[150] Birch’s Life of Tillotson, 182–184.

[151] Ibid., 180.

[152] Stillingfleet was in the Commission, but he was prevented from attending by a fit of the gout. Life of Stillingfleet, 75.

Dr. Williams, afterwards Bishop of Chichester, kept a diary of the proceedings of the Commission, which, with a Copy of the Alterations, is printed in a Parliamentary Return, 1854. To this Return I am chiefly indebted for what follows. The papers printed in it had long been desired by historical students.

[153] Spelt Aldridge in the Parliamentary Return.

[154] Return, 98.

[155] Return, 15. It would be beside the mark to enter upon a discussion relative to the creed itself, but I would call attention to a valuable little book on the subject, by my friend Professor Swainson, and another by Mr. Ffoulkes. I need scarcely refer to the Fourth Report of the Ritual Commission. The theological part of the Creed I consider to be a valuable exposition of truth; but how any charitable Christian can justify the damnatory clauses is to me inexplicable.

[156] Friday, Nov. 1; Monday, Nov. 4; Wednesday, Nov. 6; Friday, Nov. 8.

[157] So in Return, 103, it means Dr. Stillingfleet.

[158] De Trinitate, l. 15. c. 27.

[159] Calamy’s Abridgment, 448. The alterations cover 90 pages, and amount to 598 in number.

[160] See Letter to a friend containing some queries, and also Vox Cleri.

The Commission was complained of as usurping Convocational rights, and there was a prevalent feeling of opposition to any change in the formularies of the Church. “When we saw that,” says Burnet, “we resolved to be quiet, and leave the matter to better times.”—Triennial Visitation Charges, 1704.

[161] This is noticed by Macaulay, v. 112.

[162] Tillotson’s Life, 202. Jane, it should be recollected, was a friend of Compton. He was his chaplain, and preached at his consecration.

[163] Cardwell’s Conferences, 434, 451. Synodalia, 692–700.

[164] Kennet Hist., iii. 552.

[165] Tanner MSS., 28, 377. Letter from Lloyd to Sancroft, March 31, 1689.

[166] Dalrymple, i. 322.

[167] Macpherson’s Hist., i. 630.

[168] Oldmixon, iii. 18.

[169] House of Commons’ Journals. Amongst the Tanner MSS., xxvii. 161, is a Letter from a Fellow of St. John’s College, Cambridge, to a member of the House of Commons, vindicating the College from the charge of disaffection to the Government.

[170] Salmon’s Lives, 388.

[171] Life of Kettlewell, 199.

[172] Life of Kettlewell, 203.

The original declaration is in the Tanner MSS., xxvii. 77. The signature of the Bishop is in a trembling hand.

Witnesses.

Thos. Greene, D.D., the Bishop’s Chaplain.
G. Hickes, D.D.
R. Jenkyn, Precentor.
Nat. Powell, Not. Pub.
John Wilson, Not. Pub.

MS. copies of the Declaration were circulated at the time. I have one in my possession.

[173] Tanner MSS., 27, 16. Letter from the Hague, April 23, 1689.

[174] Life of Ken, by a Layman, 365.

[175] Ibid., 366. The following extracts respecting Turner are curious:

He is said to have very heartily repented of what he did at the trial of the Seven, “and to have acknowledged that their going to the Tower, when they might easily have prevented the same by entering into mutual recognizances for each other, as the King would have had them, was a wrong step taken, and an unnecessary punctilio of honour in Christian Bishops. Howsoever it was, he reflected upon all that had passed, and was so sincere as to condemn himself in whatsoever he conceived that he had not acted as became his order and station.” “When he was Bishop of Rochester, he came to St. Mary’s, when a very bright sermon was preached by his brother of Trinity College. The Earl of Thomond sat next the Bishop, and seemed mightily pleased with the sermon. He asked him the name of the preacher. The Bishop told him it was one Mr. Turner. ‘Turner,’ says my Lord Thomond, ‘he can’t be akin to Dr. Turner, Bishop of Rochester. He is the worst preacher in England, and this is one of the best,’ seeming not to know the Bishop, when certainly he knew him very well.”—Lansdowne MSS., Kennet Coll., 987, 138.

[176] I state this on the authority of a paper in the same collection, 987, 310.

[177] An examination of the case of the suspended Bishops. 1690, p. 12.

[178] Life of Kettlewell. Appendix, Nos. ii., iii.

The following note to the Archbishop is among the Tanner MSS., xxvii. 101:—

“I find from St. Asaph’s that its your opinion, and some learned lawyers, that we are to be deprived the 15th or 16th of January, reckoning by the moon. I told him of Sir Edward Coke’s opinion—2d Instit. c. 5, fol. 361. and 6 Rep. Catesby—who, referring to a record in Edward the Second’s time in which the word menses occurs, says, ‘Qui menses in Calendario computantur.’

“27 December, 1689. W. Norw.”

[179] Lathbury’s Nonjurors, 85.

[180] It occurs in the Life of Kennet, 47.

[181] Dunton’s Life and Errors, 370.

[182] Life of Kettlewell, 152.

[183] Ibid., 98.

[184] Life of Kettlewell, 134.

[185] 19th February, 1689–90. Tanner MSS., xxvii. 91, 92.

[186] Burnet, ii. 39.

[187] State Tracts, ii. 95.

[188] A Modest Enquiry, printed in State Tracts, vol. ii.

[189] See Life of Ken, by a Layman, 370–376. Compare Life of Kettlewell, 255–263.

[190] Dalrymple, iii., appen. ii. 130, 132.

[191] Macaulay has graphically described all this.

[192] Birch’s Life of Tillotson, 306.

[193] Life, Patrick’s Works, ix. 529.

[194] Convocation Book, b. i. c. 28. Edition in Library of Anglo Cathe. Theology, 50, 51.

[195] Case of Allegiance, Preface.

[196] Macaulay (vi. 47) overstates the effect on Sherlock of the Convocation Book when he says, “His venerable Mother the Church had spoken, and he, with the docility of a child, accepted her decree.”

[197] These inconsistencies are set forth in a pamphlet entitled Sherlock against Sherlock, a long extract as given by Ralph (ii. 270), from the vindication of some among ourselves as a specimen of the attacks on the Master of the Temple.

Amongst the Baker MSS., 40, 75, Cambridge University Library, is an undated letter written by

“Dr. Sherlock to my Lord of Canterbury,—

“In obedience to your Grace, I have again read over the first part of Bp. Overall’s Convocation Book, but cannot give such an account of it as your Grace possibly may desire; for the more carefully I read it, the more evidently it appears to be the sense of that Convocation, that we owe and ought to pay allegiance to a Prince, who is settled on the throne, though he ascend thither by wicked arts, and without any legal rights.”

After debating on this point at considerable length, fortifying his argument by reference to the Convocation Book, he concludes by saying: “I beg your Grace’s pardon for the hasty and impolished draught, for my thoughts are all on fire, and it seems a very amazing providence to me that such a book should be published in such a juncture as this, as serves, indeed, the end it was designed for; but does a great deal more than ever was intended, and that which nobody thought of, to reconcile the doctrine of passive obedience and non-resistance, with a submission and allegiance to usurped powers, when their Government is thoroughly settled. I will wait on your Grace on Saturday or Monday next.”

[198] There is in the British Museum (Cole MSS., xxx. 168) a curious letter by Sherlock on taking rash vows, addressed to some one who had sworn to God he would not follow the trade in which he had been brought up.

[199] 5th August, 1690. Tanner MSS., xxvii. 176.

[200] 9th February, 1691. Ibid., 247.

[201] Mant’s Hist. of the Church of Ireland, ii. Preface.

[202] January 20, 1691. Tanner MSS., xxvii. 236.

[203] Ken’s Life, 381.

D’Oyley says that Turner was suspected “probably with great reason,” i. 461. And the author of Ken’s Life describes Turner as engaging “in a plot un-English and un-Christian,” 380.

[204] 9th of May, 1691. Tanner MSS., xxvi. 84.

[205] From the Bishop of Norwich, 18th May, 1691. Tanner MSS., xxvi. 59.

[206] Life, 391.

[207] Camb. Univ. Library. Baker MSS., 40, 90.

[208] Thoresby’s Diary, i. 197. Calamy’s Life, i. 300.

[209] Crossby’s Hist. of the Baptists, iii. 230.

[210] Humble Requests, &c., inserted in Calamy’s Abridgment, i. 497.

[211] Memoir by Offer. Bunyan’s Works, iii. lxxiii.

[212] Mr. Maurice observes that “this story, which is told of Flavel the Nonconformist, is told also, and upon perfectly good evidence, of Francis Xavier the Jesuit. There is almost a curious resemblance in the words of the two narratives.” (Kingdom of Christ, ii. 344.) I wish to resemble Mr. Maurice’s ideal historian in his honesty and impartiality. I do not introduce the anecdote of Flavel to prove anything respecting his opinions. I take it as I find it—a remarkable psychological fact.

[213] Palmer, i. 354.

[214] Calamy’s Abridgment, 469–475.

[215] Life of Mr. John Hieron, &c., by D. Burgess, 1691.

[216] Grub’s Ecclesiastical History of Scotland, iii. 188. Birch’s Tillotson [2nd Edition], 18, 387.

[217] Birch’s Life of Tillotson, 23. The text was 2 Cor. v. 10. I have related a similar anecdote of Sanderson, Church of the Commonwealth, 327.

[218] Life of Tillotson, 223.

[219] Life of Tillotson, 340, 341.

[220] D’Oyley’s Life of Sancroft, ii. 4, 16.

[221] D’Oyley’s Life of Sancroft, ii. 25.

[222] See “A relation of the late wicked contrivance of Stephen Blackhead and Robert Young, against the lives of several persons by forging an association under their hands, written by the Bishop of Rochester. In two parts: the first part being a relation of what passed at the three examinations of the said Bishop by a Committee of Lords of the Privy Council; the second being an account of the two above-mentioned authors of the forgery.” In the Savoy, 1692.—Harleian Missal (4to.) vi. 198.

Blackhead and Young seem to have been thorough-paced villains.

[223] These letters, dated March, 1692, are amongst the Tanner MSS.

[224] Life of Sancroft, ii. 20.

[225] The instrument, which is very curious, is given by D’Oyley, ii. 31.

[226] D’Oyley, ii. 43, 58, 62, 64.

[227] Lives of the Bishops, 234.

[228] Own Time, ii. 135.

[229] “He was, in those years, a very good scholar, an acute logician and philosopher, a quick disputant, of a solid judgment. He spoke Latin exceedingly well.”—Lansdowne MSS., Kennet’s Coll., 949, 114.

[230] Milman has well brought out this point in his Annals of St. Paul’s. I quite agree with that distinguished critic in placing Barrow far above Tillotson. To several others I should also assign a higher place. Yet we must not forget Dryden’s literary obligations to Tillotson, and the praise bestowed on him by M. H. A. Taine.

[231] In reading Tillotson’s Sermons, the first volume strikes me as much more interesting than the second.

[232] Birch’s Tillotson, 348.

[233] Memoirs of the Life and Times of Tenison, 20.

[234] Memoirs of Tenison, 27–31.

[235] Stanley’s Westminster Abbey, 182.

[236] Cooper’s Annals of Cambridge, iv. 28. Thoresby’s Diary and Correspondence, iii. 197.

Amongst the wilder eulogists was Samuel Wesley, who thus refers to her celestial happiness:—

“How was Heaven moved at her arrival there!

With how much more than usual art and care,

The angels, who so oft to earth had gone,

And borne her incense to the Eternal’s throne,

For her new coronation now prepare!

How welcome! how caressed!

Among the blest!

And first mankind’s great mother rose—

‘Give way, ye crowding souls,’ said she,

‘That I the second of my race may see!’”

In his Life of Christ he couples the Queen with the Virgin Mary.—Tyerman’s Life and Times of Samuel Wesley, 192–194.

[237] See Memoirs of Tenison, 32. and Life of Ken, 418.

Tenison, in a letter to Evelyn, speaks of his funeral sermon, adding, “There is come forth an answer to it, said to be written by Bishop Kenn; but I am not sure he is the author: I think he has more wit, and less malice.”—Evelyn’s Diary and Corresp., iii. 345.

[238] Macpherson’s Original Papers, i. 509, 520.

[239] Memoirs of Tenison, 42–47.

[240] Wilkin’s Concilia, iv. 480.

[241] Ibid., 577.

[242] Ibid., 582. But constitutions for the Church of Scotland of a similar kind to those of William were issued by Charles II.—Ibid., 590. There are also several documents in the King’s name respecting English Nonconformists and Papists, which do not affect the point now before us.

[243] Ibid., 612.

[244] I do not forget that even Henry VIII. wrote to the Clergy of the province of York, saying, “Christ is indeed unicus dominus et supremus, as we confess him in the Church daily: it were nimis absurdum for us to be called Caput Ecclesiæ, representans Corpus Christi mysticum.” And I am prepared to admit that the theory of the National Church is that the Sovereign is simply supreme ruler in temporal things; but certainly in practice Sovereigns have gone beyond this, especially in the case now before us.

[245] Memoirs of Tenison, 54–59. This circular letter is not in Wilkins.

[246] The Duke of Bedford was Lieutenant, but Chicheley seems to have been the ruling power.

[247] London Gazette.

[248] Macaulay, vii. 253 (note).

[249] This is stated by Wallace, in his introduction to his Antitrinitarian Biography, i. 252; yet on p. 316 he quotes from a publication in 1697, where it is said the Unitarians had “not any set Meeting-house for the propagating of their doctrines.”

[250] Tayler’s Religious Life in England, 229.

[251] It is impossible to notice these publications in detail. They are very numerous. A large collection of them may be found in Dr. Williams’ Library, and an account of some of them in the elaborate introduction to Wallace’s Antitrinitarian Biography, vol. i.

[252] The Brief Hist. and Acts of the Great Athanasius.

[253] The Book is entitled, The Naked Gospel. The writer, Dr. Bury, doubts whether Mahomet or Christian doctors have most corrupted the doctrines of the Gospel. He was deprived, in 1690, by Trelawny, Bishop of Exeter, the Visitor of Lincoln College.

[254] Journals, January 3, 1694. The book so treated was the Brief but Clear Confutation of the Doctrine of the Trinity. The author was sentenced to pay a fine of £500, to give bail for good behaviour for the next three years, and to make a public recantation.

[255] The pamphlet is entitled, The Doctrine of the Blessed Trinity, Briefly Explained in a Letter to a Friend, 4to.

[256] Vindication, &c., sect. iv.

[257] Bingham’s Works, viii. 292, 319, 320.

[258] Bingham’s Memoir, i. 6. Dorner’s Doctrine of the Person of Christ, Div. ii. vol. iii. 355.

[259] Animadversions upon Dr. Sherlock’s Book, 69.

[260] He says that God had taken the matter into His own hands, “and made this scornful man eat his own words (the hardest diet, certainly, that a proud person can be put to), and after all the black dirt thrown by him on the Schoolmen and their terms, to lick it off again with his own tongue,” p. 381.

[261] South’s Animadversions, 240, and Considerations on the Explications of the Doctrine of the Trinity, &c., written to a Person of Quality. 1693. Another example of the same kind occurs in The Doctrine of the Trinity placed in its due Light. “We have seen two men that were made one Admiral by a joint Commission; and we see every day many men incorporate into one political body by patent, whereby they are one person in law. And in this known sense are the Godhead and manhood joined together in one Person, whereof comes one Christ, and very God, and very man.” The author was the Dr. Bury, mentioned on p. 213, who was deprived of his University preferment by the Bishop of Exeter.

[262] On the controversy, see The Distinction between Real and Nominal Trinitarians Examined, in Answer to a Socinian Pamphlet. 1696.

[263] Works, v. 111.

[264] See on this subject Roger’s Life of Howe, 419. Sherlock differed from Howe in some respects, and censured him for it. Howe defended himself in A Letter to a Friend, and A View of the late Considerations, &c. Works, v.

[265] Lords’ Journal.

[266] Ben Mordecai’s Letters, i. 70, quoted in Toulmin, 182.

[267] Tenison’s Life, 51. In this dispute, and the proceedings which it occasioned, ridicule, satire, and abuse were employed. Dignitaries of the Church were lampooned in coarse and vulgar ballads, and the most sacred doctrines of the Gospel became associated with what is ridiculous and absurd. See The Battle Royal, South’s Posthumous Works. Memoirs, 128–130.

[268] Wilkin’s Concilia, iv. 577.

[269] That clause excepts from the Act “any person that shall deny in his preaching or writing the doctrine of the Blessed Trinity, as it is declared in the aforesaid Articles of Religion,” i.e. the XXXIX. Articles.

[270] Parl. Hist., v. 1172. February 9, 1698.

[271] There is a full account of this horrible affair in Arnot’s State Trials, xiii. An eminent advocate of the period remarked, respecting the unhappy young man, whose name was Thomas Aikenhead, “I do think he would have proven an eminent Christian had he lived; but the ministers, out of a pious, though I think ignorant zeal, spoke and preached for cutting him off” (p. 930). A book was published in England in 1697, by one John Gailhard, entitled, The Blasphemous Heresy Disproved, in which he says, “Blasphemy and idolatry, by God’s express command, ought to be destroyed out of the land.”

[272] Lindsay’s Hist. View, 302.

[273] Calamy’s Abridgment, 561.

[274] Lindsay’s Hist. View, 304. Wallace, i. 388.

[275] Mazure, quoted in Macaulay, vii. 15.

[276] An Impartial Hist. of the Plots and Conspiracies against William III., p. 90.

[277] 1693, October 16. Macpherson’s Original Papers, i. 452.

[278] 1693, October 16. Ibid, 455.

[279] 1693, close of the year. Ibid., 459.

[280] 1693, December. Macpherson’s Original Papers, 467.

[281] 1694, January. Ibid., 474.

[282] 1694, May. Ibid., 484.

[283] 1694, August. Ibid., 493. Some correspondents were more faithful, and told James not to believe that Protestants would support him (p. 490).

[284] Lathbury’s Hist. of Nonjurors, 169.

[285] Collier’s Defence.

[286] Wilkins, iv. 627.

[287] Answer to Animadversions, 10.

[288] State Papers: Letter from Shrewsbury to William III., Whitehall, July 28, 1696.

[289] See Macpherson’s Orig. Papers, i. 514, 595.

[290] Burnet, i. 683.

[291] It appears, in the course of Fenwick’s trial, that he had said Shrewsbury came into the office of Secretary to William “by the operation and consent of King James.”—Parl. Hist., v. 1051.

[292] State Papers: Shrewsbury to William III., Whitehall, Sept. 8, 1696.

In Macpherson’s Original Papers, i. 481, Captain Floyd, a Jacobite emissary, tells James that Shrewsbury, according to his mother’s account, accepted the seals of office from the Prince of Orange “only in order to serve your Majesty more effectually hereafter.”

[293] The substance of his discoveries is given in Tindal’s History.

[294] Parl. Hist., v. 1127–1130.

[295] Memoirs of Tenison, 62.

[296] Ibid., 63.

[297] Burnet, ii. 193.

[298] Lathbury (Hist. of Nonjurors, 178), on the authority of the State Tracts, ii. 561, states that Fenwick was permitted to seek the aid of any of the Clergy who had taken the oaths, or any of the Bishops who had opposed the attainder; that on his refusal of the offer, the names of three or four Nonjurors were mentioned, but they declined to attend him, fearing the oaths might be tendered. Macaulay (vii. 404), however, says White was with him at the last.

[299] Impartial Hist. of Plots, 176.

[300] Evelyn notices, “16 Nov., the King’s entry very pompous, but is nothing approaching that of King Charles II.”

[301] Evelyn’s Diary, Dec. 2nd.

[302] Milman’s Annals of St. Paul’s, 427. Evelyn says, “5th December was the first Sunday that St. Paul’s had had service performed in it since it was burnt in 1666.”

[303] Kennet’s Hist. of England, iii. 777.

[304] Tallard, the French Ambassador, writing home, says the Catholic religion “is here tolerated more openly than it was even in the time of King Charles II., and it seems evident that the King of England has determined to leave it in peace, in order to secure his own.”

“I hear from Calais of priests coming over every day, and here they get into the herd, so that it is hard to distinguish them.”—Vernon Cor., ii. 193.

[305] Burnet, ii. 229; Statutes 11 and 12 Will. III. c. 4.

“The judges put such constructions upon the clause of forfeiture as eluded its efficacy; and I believe there were scarce any instances of a loss of property under this law.” (Hallam’s Const. Hist., ii. 333.) The Act was repealed in 1779.

[306] Memoirs of Tenison, 65–73.

[307] Le Neve’s Lives, part i. 247–254.

[308] Letter from Shrewsbury to Mr. Secretary Vernon (State Papers), December 19, 1697 (?) or 1 (?), acknowledges letter offering him the post of Governor to the Duke of Gloucester, pleads his many defects, but especially his health, which may render it necessary for him to seek a warmer climate.

Shrewsbury to William III.

“Whitehall, 1st Sept., 1696.

“I have not this long while been sensible of so real a joy as I was to find, by your Majesty’s letter of the 24th August, that you were satisfied with my endeavours to serve you. I wish I could please myself better with the effects and that I were not obliged to attribute this opinion of your Majesty’s to your own natural indulgence and my Lord Portland’s kind representation rather than to any merit of mine, beyond sincere intention to promote yours and the kingdom’s interest to the utmost of my power, without being able to contribute much to either.”

In a letter to Lord Hatton, described in the First Report of the Historical MSS. Commission, p. 23, it is said, “The Duke of Shrewsbury would be a greater person than he is, if his health would permit him to stay at Court; but it is wonderful that the laborious diversion of fox-hunting should agree so well with his Grace.”

[309] Burnet, ii. 211.

[310] Stanley’s Memorials of Westminster Abbey; Supplement, 136.

[311] Mr. Shippen.

[312] Ralph, ii. 908.

[313] Stanhope’s Queen Anne, 19.

[314] Clarke’s Life of James II., ii. 606.

[315] Clarke’s Life of James II., ii. 590–594.

[316] Life of James II., ii. 598, 599. Memoir of Louis XIV., ii. 184.

The Earl of Middleton is reported to have been converted to Catholicism by this death-bed scene; miracles were absurdly said to be wrought by the dying King’s intercession; and there is reason to believe that, if the Stuart family had been restored, James would have been canonized.—Macpherson’s Original Papers, i. 595–597.

[317] Correspondence of Lord Clarendon, ii. 389.

[318] Life of Calamy, i. 437.

[319] Crosby, iii. 357.

[320] Parl. Hist., v. 1331.

[321] Edmund Burke.

[322] Whiston’s Memoirs, 32.

[323] Lords’ Journals, February 24, 1702.

[324] Life, i. 440.

[325] 1702, January. Macpherson’s Original Papers, i. 602.

[326] English Hist. Library, 133.

[327] See in Appendix the form of writ now issued.

[328] The letter has been attributed, on the authority of the editor of the Somers’ Tracts (last edit., xi. 363), to Sir Bartholomew Shower; on the authority of the editor of Atterbury’s Correspondence (ii. 25, iii. 71), to Dr. Binckes, Vicar of Leamington at the time, and in 1703 made Dean of Lichfield. I cannot ascertain the evidence on which either of them proceeds.

[329] The Authority of Christian Princes over their Ecclesiastical Synods, 1697.

[330] See Farrer’s Critical History of Free Thought, 186.

[331] See Hallam, ii. 396.

[332] Since writing the above I find Mr. Freeman, in his Norman Conquest (vol. iv. 343), speaking of an Ecclesiastical Synod in 1070 as beginning to be distinguished from the general Gemotes; and, again (360), noticing that the King held his Court for five days, and then the Archbishop held his Synod for three days more. “Here are the beginnings of the anomalous position of the two Convocations in England, half ecclesiastical Synods, half estates of the Realm—each character hindering the effectual working of the other.”

[333] Convocation is now (1872) entering upon a new phase of its history, the results of which deserve careful study.

[334] Burnet, ii. 280.

[335] Atterbury’s Corresp., iii. 10.

[336] Ibid., 11, 13, 17.

An address was presented to the Archbishop of Canterbury by the Clergy of the Diocese of Wells, assembled to elect Proctors, stating that they were advised they had a right to be summoned to Westminster by virtue of the præmunientes clause.—Lambeth MSS., Gibson, vi. 1.

But the next paper in the same volume is an address to the elected Proctors, breathing a spirit of profound submission to the Archbishop, and calling the King “His Sacred Majesty, and the Supreme Head of the Church on earth.”

At the election of Proctors for the Diocese of Bristol, a paper was introduced advocating the view of the præmunientes clause taken by Atterbury.—Gibson, vi. 3.

[337] The Bishop of Norwich wrote to the Archbishop of Canterbury on the 8th January, 1701, remarking, “I could with humble submission wish there might be no license for business this first session, for if there should be, it will be thought the effect of Mr. A.’s book, and they will not greatly regard the strength of any answer while they carry their chief point; it is also to be suspected they will vote it their right and privilege to sit and do business as often as the Houses of Parliament do; but if a good answer to that book shall precede the sitting of the Convocation, persons will probably meet with more settled and easy minds, and fall more kindly to business, and also suppose there was more than ordinary reason for their meeting.”—Lambeth MSS., Gibson, 933, 41.

[338] Atterbury’s Correspondence, iii. 22. He says, writing to Trelawny on the 20th of February, “We met yesterday upon our adjournment. The Prolocutor was presented by Dr. Jane, who made an admirable speech, and spoke very plainly about the state of our affairs. It was both written and spoken with more life and vigour than I could have imagined Dr. Jane, under his present ill state of health, could have exerted. The Dean of Canterbury’s, too, was extremely commended, and had several artful wipes in it. Neither of them, I believe, went very well down with the Bench to which they were addressed, but against the first of them (the Dean of Gloucester), my Lord of Sarum declared very loudly” (p. 26).

[339] Atterbury’s Correspondence, 31.

[340] Letter to a Clergyman in the Country, p. 1. Answer to the Letter, p. 4.

[341] The New Danger of Presbytery, 3.

[342] These extracts are given in Lathbury’s History of Convocation, 351.

[343] The main facts in the history of this Convocation are given by Lathbury, c. xi. In drawing up this account I have used, besides Kennet’s and Burnet’s Histories and the Memoirs of Tenison, The Narrative of the Proceedings of the Lower House, &c., from Monday, February 10, to Wednesday, June 25, 1701, drawn up by order of the House; A Letter to the Author of the Narrative, &c., and The History of the Convocation, drawn up from the Journal of the Upper House, &c. The Narrative gives the High Church view; The History the Lower. It is ascribed to Kennet. A number of contemporary pamphlets in Dr. William’s Library I have also consulted.

[344] See Letters described in First Report of Hist. MSS. Com., 52. What Trelawny says I have noticed before.

[345] Burnet, ii. 285.

[346] See Ecclesiastical Synods, 99–149, 245.

[347] See Ecclesiastical Synods, 299.

[348] Atterbury’s Correspondence, iii. 53.

[349] Ibid. 57.

[350] Lathbury’s History of Convocation, 363.

[351] See Gibson’s Synodus Anglicana, 21.

[352] Lathbury’s History of Convocation, 363–365.

[353] “Upon coming to Henry VII.’s Chapel, we found it very convenient, by a curtain across the upper end, and matting on the floor.”—Lambeth MSS., Gibson Papers, vi. 8.

[354] Lambeth MSS., Gibson, vi. 9, 10.

[355] Present State of Convocation, 5.

[356] Lambeth MSS., Gibson, vi. 11.

[357] Faithful account of some transactions in the three last sessions of the present Convocation. Attributed to Atterbury.

[358] Lambeth MSS., Gibson, vi. 18.

[359] Faithful account, &c.

[360] Lambeth MSS., Gibson, vi. 11.

[361] Burnet, ii. 303.

[362] Hist. of King William III, 513.

[363] Dr. Willis, William’s Military Chaplain, who became Bishop of Gloucester in 1714, was an extempore preacher. To this he “was at first led, no doubt, by the temper of his master, King William, who was accustomed to hear such kind of preaching in Holland, and could scarcely have borne to hear Doctor or Prelate read a sermon out of the pulpit at the congregation.”—Anecdotes of the Wesley Family, ii. 243.

[364] Own Time, ii. 305.

[365] It would look as if the conduct of William in reference to patronage did not please some of the Bishops. Patrick says, “We cannot serve His Majesty unless he will countenance those whom we commend to him, purely because they have deserved well of him, and have no friends to make their worth known but we alone.” Patrick’s Works, ix. 621. The date is misprinted 1731; I take it for 1701.

[366] The Bishop of Sarum’s Four Treatises appeared in 1695.

[367] See Life and Character of Stillingfleet, 93, 104, 111, 119, and Twelve Sermons preached on several occasions, between 1666 and 1672. Published 1696. The first of his episcopal charges is the only one I have seen. For the rest, I depend on the report of the biographer.

For an account of Stillingfleet’s earlier writings, see Church of the Restoration, vol. ii.

[368] A Discourse about Tradition. Works, vol. vi.; i. 30–34; vii. 294.

[369] Burnet, Evelyn and Dunton bear witness to Patrick’s preaching power.

[370] Patrick’s Works, vi. 156.

[371] Preface to sixth edition.

[372] Lansdowne MSS., Kennet Coll., 987, 294.

[373] This gave origin to the well-known epigram (attributed by some to Dr. Trapp; by others to Mr. Warton, his successor in the poetry professorship), added to the circumstance of the ministry’s sending at the same time a troop of horse to Oxford, to suppress some disturbances that had happened there.

The King observing, with judicious eyes,

The state of both his Universities,

To one he sends a regiment; For why?

That learned body wanted loyalty.

To th’ other books he gave, as well discerning,

How much that loyal body wanted learning.

It is but fair to subjoin the reply, particularly as it is the best thing that ever came from the pen of Sir William Browne, the physician; and extorted praise, even from Johnson himself, in favour of a Cambridge man.

“The King to Oxford sent his troop of horse,

For Tories own no argument but force.

With equal care, to Cambridge books he sent,

For Whigs allow no force but argument.”

Noble’s continuation of Granger ii. 89.

[374] Observer. The following note by Onslow occurs in the Oxford edition of Burnet’s Hist. of his own Time. “I have heard that the first notice or thought which that extraordinary man, the Bishop Cumberland, had of his promotion, was by reading it in a newspaper at Stamford, where he was minister.” Vol. iv. 131.

[375] Noble’s continuation, ii. 88.

[376] Ibid., 87.

In the Lansdowne MSS., Kennet Coll., 987, 356, it is said Fowler “had a very superstitious fancy in catching at stories of apparitions and witches.”

[377] Noble, ii. 101. Kidder’s Autobiography is printed in Cassan’s Lives of the Bishops of Bath and Wells.

[378] A high character is given to Nicholas Stratford for kindness, courteousness, and charity in Lansdowne MSS., Kennet Coll., 987, 304.

[379] This curious piece of eulogistic Latinity may be seen in Le Neve’s Archbishops, part ii. 286.

[380] Thoresby’s Diary, i. 224.

[381] Tyerman’s Life of S. Wesley, 385.

[382] Memoirs of Whiston, 31.

[383] Noble’s Continuation, ii. 82.

Anthony Wood, in his strange Autobiography, relates a practical joke played by Lloyd when he was at Oxford. He contrived that a London citizen should disguise himself as a Greek Patriarch, and get people, including learned professors, to kneel before him for a blessing. “It was a piece of waggery to impose upon the Royalists, and such that had a mind to be blest by a Patriarch instead of Archbishop or Bishop, and it made great sport for a time, and those that were blest were ashamed of it.”—Lives of Eminent Antiquaries, ii. 132.

[384] The change produced by the Revolution is thus estimated in Tracts for the Times, No. 80, p. 77. “Since the great loss of Christian principle, which our Church sustained at the Rebellion of 1688, when she threw, as it were, out of her pale the doctrine of Christ crucified (together with Ken and Kettlewell), a low tone of morals has pervaded her teaching, and not founded on the great Christian principle; and that Baptism, which implied it, has been much forgotten.”

[385]

“Fulham, Nov. 20, 1701.

“Sir,—I entreat you to let the Clergy of your Deanery know that it is my opinion that the peace, honour, and safety of this Church and nation depend in a great measure upon the good success of the next election, and that I do therefore think it was common duty, especially for us of the Clergy, to contribute all we can to get in good ones. Now I confess from these considerations, and as matters stand in Essex, in my judgment we shall be greatly wanting to ourselves and our common good, if we do not make the best interest we can, and be vigorous ourselves for the choice of Sir Charles Barrington and Mr. Bullock. It will be for the reputation of the Church, and for its service, if we be unanimous.—H. London.”—Strype Correspondence, iii. 219. Cambridge. Other letters of the same kind are preserved.

[386] Visitation Charges, 1693–4.

[387] Hist. of his own Time, ii. 630.

[388] Grainger, iv. 293.

[389] “Captain Crisp assures, that the Bishop of Exeter is entirely in the King’s (James’) interest.” January, 1694. Macpherson’s Original Papers, i. 474.

[390] Life and Errors, ii. 668.

[391] Johnson’s Lives of the Poets.

[392] Discourse made by the Lord Bishop of Rochester at his Visitation, 1695.

[393] There is a most amusing letter in the Lambeth Library from Dr. Wm. Beau, Bishop of Llandaff, giving particulars of his life—of his service in the army—his promotion in the Church—the poverty of his See—and an interview he had with the Archbishop, at Lambeth, in order to get a better Bishopric. “I was passing through the hall up the stairs, thinking to have found him in the wonted place of reception in the old lodgings; but he no sooner heard of me, than he came himself to direct me, and introduce me into his new ones. When he told me, almost at the first word, that the Bishop of Hereford would die; no, my Lord, said I, for he is newly married. Oh, said he, the sooner for that.”—Gibson Papers, ii. 49.

[394] This is entitled, “A Large Review of the Articles exhibited against the Bishop of St. David’s.” There is a MS. book, containing minutes of the charges, in the Cambridge University Library (MSS. 757). For the trial, see Lord Raymond’s Reports, i. 447; and Howel’s State Trials, xiv. 447. The deed of deprivation is in the Lambeth Library, 951, 6.

[395] In the Cole MSS. (Brit. Mus.), xxx. 149, it is stated that Bishop Watson died June 3rd, 1717, at Great Wilbraham, and was put in the ground the night following in the Chancel, under the south wall, sans service, being excommunicated by the Archbishop of Canterbury, whose officers’ fees he would not pay. On his coffin was put, T. W. B., St. D. Aged 80, died the 3rd of June, 1717.

[396] Compare for example Sermons iv. and xiv. Works, vol. ii.

[397] My acquaintance with Norris’s writings commenced nearly forty years ago, through a recommendation from that quarter. Dunton speaks of him in extravagant terms.—Life and Errors, ii. 671.

[398] Diary, Nov. 10, 1695.

[399] “I had quite forgot to desire one to preach upon the subject of our Conference. I beseech you try if you can get any of our brethren to give us a quarter of an hour’s discourse upon that subject.—H. London. I preached myself June 23rd, 1689.”—Strype Correspondence, iii. 192.

[400] Strype Correspondence, ii. 52.

[401] The Life of Dr. Horneck, by Bishop Kidder, 9, 10.

[402] He is noticed in Evelyn’s Diary, April 24th, 1694.

[403] An impartial account of Mr. John Mason, p. 8.

[404] The following account of an eccentric clergyman, who died just after the Revolution, occurs in the Lansdowne MSS., Kennet Coll., 987, 116. The person referred to is Joseph Crowther, of whom Walker gives some account in his Sufferings of the Clergy, and Wood in his Athenæ Oxonienses.

“I remember him esteemed at Oxford a very severe disputant, and very tenacious of the rules of logic. He would often moderate in the public disputation in his own hall; but so fierce and passionate, that if the opponent made a false syllogism, or the respondent a wrong answer, he bid the next that sat by them kick their shins, and it became a proverb, ‘kick shins Crowther.’ He was extremely hated at Tredington (Diocese of Worcester), for his stiff contending with the people; they obliged him to keep a boar—he got a black one to spite them. The black pigs were called Crowthers.”

[405] Tanner MSS., xxviii. 248, 274.

[406] Tanner MSS., xxvii. 11, 78.

[407] Patrick’s Works, ix. 546.

[408] 1696, April 7. Baumgartner Papers, Strype Correspondence, iii. 45.

[409] Gibson Papers, v. 9. 1692, Dec. 17.

[410] The very injudicious Defence of the Old Singing Psalms may be found in the first volume of Beveridge’s Works, collected by Horne.

[411] Life of Kettlewell, 213, 214.

[412] Memoirs, 30.

[413] Whiston’s Life, 162.

[414] Own Time, ii. 215.

[415] Wilson’s Life of De Foe, i. 292.

[416] The following extract indicates the feeling cherished towards Richard Baxter and his admirers:—“His writings furnish great part of the libraries of the young fanatic divines, who have sucked in all the venom and poison of his unhappy writings, in order to propagate them in this city and country.”—From Chas. Goodall to Mr. Strype, June 12, 1701. Brit. Mus. Addl. MSS., 5853, p. 35.

[417] Anecdotes of the Wesley Family, i. 207.

[418] See Kirk’s Mother of the Wesleys, 186, and Tyerman’s Life and Times of Samuel Wesley, 251.

[419] See Ecton’s Liber Valorum.

[420] Athenian Oracle, i. 542, probably written by Samuel Wesley, and drawn from his own experience.

[421] Keble’s Life of Wilson, 61. The memory of Wilson is still cherished at Knowsley.

[422] Planche’s Hist. of British Costume, 395.

[423] Preface to Companion for Fasts and Festivals.

[424] Preface to the Practice of True Devotion, 1698.

[425] Thoresby, iii. 153.

[426] Hist. of his Own Time, ii. 211.

[427] Works, viii. 451.

[428] Reason and Faith. Introduction.

[429] Wilson’s Life of De Foe, i. 262.

[430] Rogers’ Life of Howe, 337, 309. An anecdote in the life of Samuel Wesley illustrates the same fact. He met with a profane officer, and so reproved him as to break for ever his habit of swearing.—Life of S. Wesley, by Tyerman, 134.

[431] Richard Dunning’s Bread for the Poor.

[432] History of his Own Time, ii. 101. See note by Lord Dartmouth in the Oxford edition.

[433] Letters Illustrative of the Reign of William III., by Vernon, Secretary of State, ii. 302. I find amongst the Tanner MSS., xxviii. 162, “Case of Sir Peter Gleanes’ daughter, supposed to be suffering from witchcraft, Aug. 17, 1688.”

[434] This information is gathered chiefly from Hutchinson’s Historical Essay concerning Witchcraft.

[435] Not “your,” as often quoted.

[436] Athenian Oracle, i. 153.

[437] Hutchinson, 62. Hume says, in his Commentaries on the Laws of Scotland, ii. 556, that among the many trials for witchcraft, he had not observed “one which proceeds upon the notion of a vain, cheating art, falsely used by an impostor to deceive the weak and credulous.” It is not until faith in witchcraft expires that such a notion obtains. The Scotch were more superstitious than the English. English believers in witchcraft regarded the witch as the slave; the Scotch regarded her as the mistress, of the evil power. See Burton’s Criminal Trials in Scotland, i. 240. Dugald Stuart, in his Dissertation on the Progress of Metaphysical and Ethical Philosophy, notices Malbranche’s scepticism as to sorcery, and gives an interesting extract on the subject, p. 75.

[438] Hutchinson, 58, 108.

[439] Monk’s Life of Bentley, 34.

[440] Monk’s Life of Bentley, 37.

[441] Nichols’ Literary Anecdotes, vi. 453.

[442] Life prefixed to Works, i. xii.

[443] These passages occur in the 18th and 19th chapters of the fourth book of the Essay.

[444] Second Vindication. Works, ii. 656.

Since this volume was sent to the press, I have been reading the interesting Letters, Lectures, and Reviews of Dean Mansell. From p. 306 to 316, he dwells on the tendency of Locke’s philosophy in the direction of theological scepticism, though at the same time he does justice to Locke’s character, and remarks that “when challenged on account of the relation of his premises to Toland’s conclusions, he expressly repudiated the connection, and declared his own sincere belief in those mysteries of the Christian faith which Toland had assailed.” The Dean maintains that in Locke’s philosophy “there is no room for a distinction between the inconceivable or mysterious, and the absurd and contradictory;” and he further goes on to say, after quoting a passage from Sanderson’s Works, i. 233, that “Sanderson’s distinction between the τὸ ὅτι, that it is, and the τὸ πῶς, how it is, indicates the exact point which Locke overlooked and which Toland denied.” He also remarks that Locke wrote his great work without reference to theology, and probably without any distinct thought of its theological bearings. But the Dean takes no notice of the passages quoted in the text from Locke’s Essay on the Understanding, in which he distinctly notices the theological bearings of his speculation, and makes a distinction between the inconceivable and absurd, in other words, what is above reason and contrary to it; and virtually recognizes the truth of what Sanderson says about the τὸ ὅτι and the τὸ πῶς, the fact of existence and the mode.

[445] It will be found instructive to compare chap. ii. with Newman’s Grammar of Assent.

[446] Numerous illustrations are afforded in Secretan’s Life of Nelson, 174.

[447] See Woodward’s Account of the Rise and Progress of Religious Societies, &c., and of their Endeavours for Reformation of Manners; Dr. Horneck’s Life; Toulmin, 415; Secretan’s Life of Nelson, 91.

[448] Vernon Cor., ii. 128–130.

[449] Streets of London, 8.

[450] Strype’s Stowe, ii. 578.

[451] This account is founded upon numerous extracts from the early minutes of the S.P.C.K., kindly furnished me by the Secretary, and upon information supplied in Anderson’s Colonial Church, and Secretan’s Life of Nelson.

[452] Much of this account, like the former, rests upon the minutes of the S.P.C.K.

[453] Colonial Church Chronicle, v. 121. There are several papers in this volume on the early proceedings of the Propagation Society, but they chiefly relate to a period later than that contained in the present work. The authorities for the rest of my account are the same as in the case of the S.P.C.K.

[454] Lives of Eminent Antiquaries, Oxford, 1772, vol. i. Life of Hearne, 8–10.

[455] Mason’s Defence, by Lindsay. Preface.

[456] Macpherson’s Original Papers, i. 452.

[457] It is written by Hen. Wilkinson, and dated October 25, 1690. (Baker MSS., 40, 91, Cambridge University Library.) There is also a list of the Nonjurors in the Diocese of Ely and University of Cambridge, 1689–1690. (Brit. Mus., Additional MSS. 5813 f. 119 b.)

[458] Kettlewell’s Works, ii. 635–638.

[459] Life of Kettlewell, 291.

[460] Life of Kettlewell, 317.

[461] Ibid., 322.

[462] Kettlewell’s Works, i., Appendix.

[463] Miscellaneous Papers of Dr. Birch, Brit. Mus., 4297. Secretan’s Life of Nelson, 52.

[464] Dodwell to Ken. Baker MSS., 40, 82, et seq.

[465] Dodwell to Sherlock. Baker MSS., 86, et seq.

[466] Lambeth Library. Gibson Papers, ii. 38–41.

[467] Life of Ken by a Layman, 409.

[468] Life of Kettlewell, 471.

[469] His works were published in two volumes (1752), under the title of Ἀπολειπόμενα, or Dissertations Theological, Mathematical, and Physical.

[470] Scintilla Altaris. Primitive Devotion in the Feasts and Fasts of the Church of England, by Ed. Sparkes, D.D, 1652. The Holy Feasts and Fasts of the Church, by W. Brough, D.D., 1657. It is curious that these should have been published under the Commonwealth.

[471] Dated Oct. 22, 1698. Letters Illustrative of the Reign of William III., by James Vernon, Secretary of State, ii. 203.

[472] For several particulars in this account I am indebted to Secretan’s Life of Nelson.

[473] Nelson’s Life of Bull.

[474] Life of Kettlewell, 316, 317.

[475] Life of Hearne, p. 3 in Lives of Eminent Antiquaries, vol. i.

[476] Life of Ken, by a Layman, 398.

[477] Life of Ken, by a Layman, 414.

[478] June 6, 1698: letter from John Mandeville. See also Evelyn’s Diary, June 5.

[479] Secretan’s Life of Nelson, 68.

[480] Life of Kettlewell, 368, et seq.

[481] Maurice’s Kingdom of Christ, iii. 105.

[482] Jowett’s Dialogues of Plato, ii. Introduction, 150. I have changed the word “statesman” for “politician.”

[483] Nelson’s Christian Sacrifice.

[484] In the Vernon Correspondence, vol. ii. 55, allusions occur to “one of the Prebends of Durham” a Nonjuror in heart, suspected of Jacobitism. “By what I have now heard,” says Vernon to the Duke of Shrewsbury, “there never was so true a pharisee; he was affectedly devout in outward show, using all the ceremonies both of the Greek and Western Churches; his practice was to pray and sing psalms while he and his friends were travelling in his coach.”

[485] Wilson’s Hist. of Dissenting Churches, iv. 188, 192, iii. 277.

[486] At Salter’s Hall. Wilson, ii. 1.

[487] Ibid., ii. 303.

[488] Murch’s History of Churches in West of England, 139, 157, 89. “I have seen,” says Mr. Murch, “a curious account by a Mr. Butler, of the disbursements to every labourer, and for all the materials used in the erection of the meeting-house at Warminster.” The new chapel was opened in 1704; previously the Dissenters of Warminster worshipped in a barn. The Rev. H. Gunn, in his interesting History of Nonconformity in Warminster, gives full particulars derived from this account, and adds that William Penn once preached in the barn. He also notes that the ministers regularly officiating received 12s. 6d. for two services, equivalent to £1 17s. 6d. in the present day.

[489] There was no contractor for the building; materials were purchased and labour procured as necessity required. The entire cost of timber was £30; glass and lead for the windows, £8 19s. 1d.; the painter’s bill was £4. 9s.; bricks were 11s. per 1,000; eight deal boards for the pulpit were charged 14s. 8d., and the making of it is put down at £1 10s. Church Documents, Castlegate Chapel.—See Historical Account, by the Rev. S. M’All.

[490] A remarkable instance of an Independent trust, couched in general terms, occurs in the History of the Independent Church at Beccles.—Rix’s East Anglican Nonconformity, 161.

[491] The certificate, drawn up and signed on the occasion, is worth preserving: “We, whose names are under written, do testify concerning Mr. Joseph Hussey, that upon our personal knowledge he is an ordained minister of the Gospel, whose natural parts, acquired learning, and soundness in the faith, holiness of life, and all ministerial abilities are so considerable that we groundedly hope for God’s blessing upon his ministry, both for the conversion and edification of souls wherever God shall employ him.” Upon this testimonial there are signs of the furtiveness in which the business had been accomplished. Five signed their names; Domino Anonymo is the signature of the sixth, with this appendage: “He was shie because of the cloudiness of the times, and would neither subscribe nor be known to me.”—MS. by Wilson, Dr. William’s Library.

[492] Thoresby’s Diary, i. 229.

[493] “Mr. Griffith,” an Independent, “tells me he takes it for granted the meeting at Newbury was in the nature of a provincial synod, which he has found the Presbyterian ministers very fond of late, and blames them for it. This passion of theirs has appeared more barefaced in Ireland, where they have had such an assembly at Antrim, and published the sermon preached upon the occasion, maintaining it was their right and duty to meet with or without the allowance of the laws, or the consent of the supreme magistrate.”

“The Episcopal Clergy intend to remonstrate to the Government there against this liberty. I know not how soon we may expect the like to be done in England, and if it break into an open contest about Church discipline, the moderate man will have a fine time of it.” August 23, 1698.—Vernon Correspondence, ii. 156.

[494] Calamy’s Life, i. 224–264.

[495] Defence of Moderate Nonconformity, part i. 213.

[496] Life of Calamy, i. 301.

[497] Ibid., 304–309.

[498] Life of Calamy, i. 313–318.

[499] Life of Calamy, i. 348–350, June 22, 1694.

[500] Thoresby, i. 246.

[501] Ibid., i. 246–253.

[502] This was in 1699, but the change began in 1694. Diary, 284–329.

[503] Calamy’s Life, i. 301. “When Mr. Harrison removed to Pury, a Mr. John Warr, who formerly lived in the neighbourhood of Caversfield, came with him to enjoy the benefit of his ministry. And connected with this circumstance is another, which will show something of the spirit of the times. When Mr. Harrison came to Pury he brought a pulpit with him, which he deemed it necessary to conceal; therefore, to prevent it being known, Mr. Warr, being a shoemaker, contrived to fill it with shoe-pegs, and brought it among his own goods in a waggon from Bicester.”—Memorials of Independent Churches in Northamptonshire, by T. Coleman, 276.

[504] Thoresby, i. 256. April, 1694.

[505] See correspondence in Thoresby, iii. 177.

[506] Present State of Parties, 319.

[507] The whole of the above account is rendered necessary by controversies respecting these academies. I have examined what is said by Samuel Wesley, Palmer, De Foe, and other contemporaries, and have consulted the opinions of modern writers who have gone over the whole ground. My notice of the course of study is taken from Palmer. Further particulars may be found in Nonconformity in Cheshire, 491, and Milner’s Life of Watts.

[508] An example of this occurs in the following letter by Bishop Patrick, addressed to Mr. Williams, Rector of Dodington:—

“You have done very worthily and prudently in stopping the progress of the Anabaptist faction, by applying yourself to the Justices, to call their unlicensed schoolmasters to account; who, you tell me, and I am glad to hear it, have bound him over to appear at the next sessions. I think you need not fear his procuring a license from the Archbishop’s Court, for I had the like attempt here at Littleport, where I refused to licence a fellow whom a party set up against one, who had a long time taught school there with good acceptance. Whereupon they pretended to have not only applied themselves above, but actually procured the Archbishop’s licence, and showed an instrument with a seal to it to the ignorant people. But I soon found it was a cheat; the Archbishop having granted none, and having given a strict charge in his office that none should be granted (as he told me himself), without acquainting the Bishop of the Diocese with it. But for fear of the worst, I will write to his Grace by the next post, and let him know what the sectaries pretend, who, I am sure, will stop the granting of a licence, or revoke it if any have been granted, which I think you need not fear; for after a great deal of vapouring at Littleport about the licence they said they had got, the fellow durst not appear at the sessions, nor come to me, but ran the country.”—Letter to the Rev. Mr. Williams, Rector of Dodington. Cole MSS. (British Museum), xxx. 148.

[509] Heads of Agreement.

[510] Ibid.

[511] Thoresby’s Diary, i. 210. Hunter’s Life of Heywood, 374.

[512] Extracts from the Church-Book in Memorials, by T. Coleman.

[513] Calamy’s Life, i. 327.

[514] This account is drawn up from Williams’ collected pieces in two volumes, Crispianism Unmasked, Crisp’s Christ made Sin; pamphlets by Lorimer, Calamy’s Abridgment, Life of Bull, and Toulmin’s Hist. of Dissent.

[515] Nichols’ Apparat. ad Defens. Eccl. Ang.

[516] Hist. Account of my Own Life, i. 401.

[517] Howe’s Works, v. See passages, pp. 263–290.

[518] James Hamilton.

[519] Life of Matt. Henry, by Sir J. B. Williams, prefixed to Commentary, 60.

[520] Ibid., 61, 62.

[521] Ordinations often occurred at these meetings. The following extract from Henry’s Diary furnishes an instance:—“The 24th was kept as a fast-day in Broad Oak Meeting-House, a competent number present. Mr. Latham prayed; Mr. Lawrence gave an account of the business we met about, prayed and sung a psalm; Mr. Doughty prayed; I preached from Isaiah vi. 8: ‘Here am I, send me,’ and prayed. Mr. Owen, as Moderator, demanded a confession of his faith and ordination vows, which he made abundantly to our satisfaction. We then proceeded to set him apart. Mr. Owen concluded with the exhortation. We have reason to say it was a good day, and the Lord was among us.”

[522] Hist. of Congregational Church at Cockermouth, 58. I have adopted the language on the Church-Book. Confirmed is explained to mean establishment as to right of membership, by being admitted to the table of the Lord.

[523] Ibid., 97.

[524] Guestwick Church-Books.

[525] Hist. of Church at Cockermouth, 94.

[526] Ibid., 90, 98, 99, 100.

[527] Palmer, in his Vindication of Dissenters, 1705, says, p. 99, “In all our churches we administer the Sacrament twelve times, at least, in a year.” From the records of Castle Gate Church, Nottingham, it appears the Lord’s Supper was there celebrated once in six weeks.

[528] These particulars are taken from the records of the Trust, of which I have the honour to be a Trustee.

[529] De Foe says of him—

“His native candour and familiar style,

Which did so oft his hearers’ hours beguile,

Charmed us with godliness; and while he spake

We loved the doctrines for the teacher’s sake;

While he informed us what those doctrines meant

By dint of practice more than argument.”

[530] Dr. Williams’ Life of Annesley, p. 134, published by Dunton, 1697.

[531] Williams’ Life of Annesley, and Kirk’s Mother of the Wesleys.

[532] Toulmin, 522.

[533] Palmer, i. 103.

[534] Howe’s Works, vol. vi. 306.

Oliver Heywood’s death occurred in May, 1702. No particular account of it is given by Mr. Hunter in his biography. Thoresby notes down, “May 7: Rode with Mr. Peters to Northowram, to the funeral of good old Mr. O. Heywood. He was interred with great lamentations in the parish church at Halifax; was surprised at the following Arvill, or treat of cold possets, stewed prunes, cake and cheese, prepared for the company, where had several Con. and Noncon. ministers and old acquaintance.”—Diary, i. 362.

[535] Rogers’ Life of Howe, 357, 316. “I well remember that he himself once informed me,” says Calamy, “of some very private conversation he had with that Prince (William III.) not long before his death. Among other things the King asked him a great many questions about his old master Oliver, as he called him, and seemed not a little pleased with the answers that were returned to some of his questions.” Those answers would throw some additional light on the popular question of Oliver’s character.

[536] Crosby’s Hist. of Baptists, iii. 246–258.

[537] Crosby, iii. 259, 264–270.

[538] Crosby, iv. 298–301.

[539] Ibid., Appendix No. 1.

[540] Crosby, iv. 330.

[541] Sewell, ii. 370, 448. The early meeting has been since fixed for the month of May.

[542] “Forasmuch,” it is recorded in the minutes of Quaker Meetings in Worcester (1695), “as it hath been the good advice of our friends of the yearly meeting that friends shall in all plainness so habit themselves as truth requires, and to lay aside those flowered and striped stuffs, with the changeable fashions of this world, it is thought meet by this meeting, that what in us lies it may be put for the future into practice, and that none do wear them or sell them, when those by them are disposed of; also that friends take care to train up their children in the fear of the Lord, and bring them up not only in plainness of habit, but take care to bring them up in plain language also, that there may be no good Nehemiah grieved to hear half Hebrew and half Ashdod spoken.” Complaint is made of sleeping at public meeting. Those so overtaken were informed, “they must be openly dealt with, if a more private admonition will not do.”—Extracted from records preserved by the Society of Friends at Worcester.

[543] Miscellanies. Compare pp. 326 and 340 with 334.

Transcriber’s Notes:
1. Obvious printers’, punctuation and spelling errors have been corrected silently.
2. The words Yeomansee Indians could be a error for Yamassee or Yemassee.
3. The corrigenda have been silently corrected.
4. Some hyphenated and non-hyphenated versions of the same words have been retained as in the original.

1 sh.	6 l.—	For (of) Reade (in).
„	14 l.—	Instead of (as containing) reade (w^ch I doe acknowledge to containe), and before (promise) add (solemnely).
„	18 l.—	Before (Oathes) insert (two), and leave out (of fidelity).
„	21 l.—	After (Symony) Add (And the Oath of Residence).
„	24 l.—	Leave out (of fidelitye), and add (mentioned in the s^d Stat, made in the first yeare of the Raigne of King William and Queene Mary shall be).
2 sh.	2 l.—	After the first (or) insert (keepe any publiq schoole, and alsoe the s^d oathes and declaracon, together with the s^d oathes of Symony and Residence by every pson).
„	4 l.—	After (admission) add (respectively).
„	8 l.—	Leave out (of fidelity) and reade (mentioned in the s^d Stat made in the first yeare of the Raigne of King William and Queene Mary).
„	9 l.—	Leave out from (Deputy) to (Provided) in the 11^th l.
„	15 l.—	For (as containing) reade (w^ch I doe acknowledge to containe).[465]
2 sh.	22 l.—	Leave out from (And Bee it) inclusive to (And Bee it) in the 5^th l. of the 3rd sheet.
3 sh.	11 l.—	Leave out from (degree) to (And) in the 14th line.
„	18 l.—	After (Ministers) add (of the Church of Engld).
„	1 l.—	Leave out from (And) in the to (And) in 4th l.
4 sh.	4 l.—	For (improvements) reade (additions).
„	5 l.—	For (if) Reade (is).
„	5 l.—	Before (edificacon) reade (better).
„	16 l.—	For (twenty) reade (thirty).
„	20 l.—	After (Reformacon) reade (to the Convocacon and).
1 sh.	14 l.—	I, A. B., doe submit to the present Constitution of the Church of England. I acknowledge that the Doctrine of it contains in it all things necessary to Salvation, and that I will conform my selfe to the worship and the government thereof as established by law.
		And I solemnely pmise, in the exercise of my ministry, to preach and practice according thereunto.
	Agreed to.
2 sh.	14^a 15 l.—	Instead of the 14^th and 15^th l. reade (I, A. B., doe submit to the prsent constitucon of the Church of Engld. I acknowledge that the doctrine of it contains in it all things necessary for Salvacon, and I will conforme my selfe to the worship and the government thereof as established by Law).
4 sh.	3 l.—	After (same) add (in a Pew or Seate in the Church).

Page	144,	line	13,	for Kingsale read Kinsale.
„	222,	„	1,	for Unitariam read Unitarian.
„	343,	„	30,	for Blackall read Blackhall.

The Project Gutenberg eBook of Ecclesiastical History of England, Volume 5—The Church of the Revolution

ECCLESIASTICAL
HISTORY OF ENGLAND.

ADVERTISEMENT.

CONTENTS.

CONTENTS OF APPENDIX.

CHAPTER I.

CHAPTER II.

CHAPTER III.

CHAPTER IV.

CHAPTER V.

CHAPTER VI.

CHAPTER VII.

CHAPTER VIII.

CHAPTER IX.

CHAPTER X.

CHAPTER XI.

CHAPTER XII.

CHAPTER XIII.

CHAPTER XIV.

CHAPTER XV.

CHAPTER XVI.

CHAPTER XVII.

CHAPTER XVIII.

CHAPTER XIX.

CHAPTER XX.

CHAPTER XXI.

CHAPTER XXII.

APPENDIX.

I.—P. 107.

Alterations made in Committee.

II.—P. 114.

III.—P. 229.

IV.—P. 263.

INDEX.

CORRIGENDA.

FOOTNOTES:

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

CHAPTER I.
Early Days of William	1
Marriage with the Princess Mary	4
William and Mary in Holland	5
Preparations for Revolution	9
Infatuated Conduct of King James	13
CHAPTER II.
William’s Declaration	27
James gives Audience to the Bishops	29
William sets Sail	34
Landing of the Prince	36
James goes to Salisbury	43
William’s Popularity	49
Flight of James to Sheerness	53
Return of James to London	56
Arrival of William at St. James’s	57
CHAPTER III.
Character of the Revolution	61
The Holy Jacobite Club	68
State of Feeling	69
Meeting of Convention	73
Declaration of Right	78
Arrival of Mary in England	80
Accession of William and Mary	81
Appointment of Officers of State	82
CHAPTER IV.
Oath of Allegiance	88
Corporation Act	92
Test Act	94
Coronation Oath	97
The Coronation	99
Comprehension	101
Toleration	114
Ecclesiastical Commission	124
Convocation	138[viii]
CHAPTER V.
James in Ireland	144
Nonjurors: Cartwright—Thomas—Lake	146
Sancroft—Lloyd—Ken	147
Turner	148
Frampton	149
Hickes—Dodwell	151
Kettlewell	152
Whigs and Tories	156
Irish Campaign	157
CHAPTER VI.
Battle of the Boyne	159
Sherlock	161
Lloyd	164
Scheme for Restoration of James	167
Ejectment of Nonjurors	169
CHAPTER VII.
Nonconformists	174
Bunyan	175
Collinges	176
Flavel	177
Baxter	178
Holcroft	181
CHAPTER VIII.
Tillotson as Primate	186
Sancroft in Retirement	187
Tenison succeeds Tillotson in the Primacy	195
Death of Queen Mary	196
Tenison’s Funeral Sermon	196
Licensing of the Press	201
CHAPTER IX.
Ecclesiastical Regulations	203
Lords Justices	206
Trinitarian Controversy	210
Dr. Wallis	213
Sherlock’s Vindication	214
South’s Reply	216
Howe’s Views	221
William’s Injunctions	223
CHAPTER X.
James II. at St. Germains	228
Jacobites	229
Conspiracy against William	231
Execution of Sir John Friend and Sir William Parkyns	232
Collier	232
Sir John Fenwick	236
CHAPTER XI.
Peace of Ryswick	242
New Parliament	243
Bill against Papists	245
Church Preferments	247
Duke of Gloucester	248
Succession Act	250
Death of James II.	253
Abjuration Bill	256
State of Parties	257[ix]
CHAPTER XII.
Letter to a Convocation Man	261
Dr. Wake’s Reply	264
Francis Atterbury	264
Convocation Meets	270
Lower House resists the Archbishop’s Prorogation	272
Censures Toland’s Book	275
Burnet’s Exposition of the Thirty-nine Articles	277
Dissolution of Convocation	282
White Kennet	284
New Convocation	287
Death of the Prolocutor	293
Death of William III.	295
CHAPTER XIII.
Bishops—Burnet	298
Stillingfleet	299
Patrick	300
Moore and Cumberland	303
Fowler and Kidder	304
Hall—Stratford—Sharpe	306
Lloyd	307
Compton	309
Trelawny	310
Burnet and Sprat	311
Crew—Watson	312
Clergy—Beveridge	314
Bull, Norris, Burkett	315
Strype—Wharton	316
Horneck	317
Fanaticism—Mason	317
CHAPTER XIV.
Ecclesiastical Discipline	321
Manner of Worship	323
Psalmody of the Church	324
Character of the Clergy	325
Condition of the Clergy	328
Clerical Costume	331
State of Society	332
Intemperance	334
Superstition	335
CHAPTER XV.
Boyle Lectures	341
Bentley	341
Locke’s Reasonableness of Christianity	344
Essay on the Human Understanding	346
Leslie—Blount	349
Toland and Norris	350
Literary Style	352
CHAPTER XVI.
Rise of Religious Societies	354
Young Men’s Associations	356
Society for Reformation of Manners	358
Societies Advocated from the Pulpit	361
Christian Knowledge Society	364
Society for Propagating the Gospel in Foreign Parts	369[x]
CHAPTER XVII.
Circumstances of the Nonjurors	375
Kettlewell	377
Dodwell	380
Hickes	382
Lee	383
Nelson	384
Nonjurors in London	387
Social Gatherings at Shottesbrook Park	387
Ken’s Retirement at Longleat	390
Deaths of Nonjurors—
White	391
Turner	392
Samuel Pepys	393
Political Views of Nonjurors	395
Religious Spirit	396
Modes of Worship	398
CHAPTER XVIII.
Nonconformist Places of Worship in London	400
Nonconformists in Nottingham and Chester	402
In Northamptonshire	403
Presbyterians	404
Ordinations	405
Edmund Calamy	408
Seminaries for Dissenters	413
CHAPTER XIX.
Presbyterians and Independents	420
Antinomian Controversy	422
Richard Davis	423
Crisp	424
Daniel Williams	425
Stephen Lobb	426
CHAPTER XX.
Matthew Henry	428
Presbyterian Lord Mayors	429
Daniel De Foe	431
Manner of Worship	433
Independents	436
Ministerial Support	439
CHAPTER XXI.
Deaths of Nonconformists—
Philip Henry	442
Samuel Annesley	443
Vincent	444
Bates—Howe	445
CHAPTER XXII.
Baptists	451
Kiffin and Keach	453
Caffin	455
Quakers: Fox and Barclay	456
Penn	457
Mysticism	458
Norris	459

I.	A Bill for uniting their Majesties’ Protestant Subjects	461
II.	The Toleration Act, entituled, An Act for exempting their Majesties’ Protestant subjects dissenting from the Church of England from the penalties of certain Laws	465
III.	Extracts from Macpherson’s Original Papers	472
IV.	The Writ summoning a Bishop to Parliament	473

The Project Gutenberg eBook of Ecclesiastical History of England, Volume 5—The Church of the Revolution

ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY OF ENGLAND.

ADVERTISEMENT.

CONTENTS.

CONTENTS OF APPENDIX.

CHAPTER I.

CHAPTER II.

CHAPTER III.

CHAPTER IV.

CHAPTER V.

CHAPTER VI.

CHAPTER VII.

CHAPTER VIII.

CHAPTER IX.

CHAPTER X.

CHAPTER XI.

CHAPTER XII.

CHAPTER XIII.

CHAPTER XIV.

CHAPTER XV.

CHAPTER XVI.

CHAPTER XVII.

CHAPTER XVIII.

CHAPTER XIX.

CHAPTER XX.

CHAPTER XXI.

CHAPTER XXII.

APPENDIX.

I.—P. 107.

Alterations made in Committee.

II.—P. 114.

III.—P. 229.

IV.—P. 263.

INDEX.

CORRIGENDA.

FOOTNOTES:

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

ECCLESIASTICAL
HISTORY OF ENGLAND.