No More Learning

It had become a sacred
point of honour among them to stand stoutly by one another in this
crisis. There could be no doubt that, if the suffrage of the freeholders
were fairly taken, not a single knight of the shire favourable to the
policy of the government would be returned. Men therefore asked one
another, with no small anxiety, whether the suffrages were likely to be
fairly taken. The list of the Sheriffs for the new year was impatiently
expected. It appeared while the Lords Lieutenants were still engaged
in their canvass, and was received with a general cry of alarm and
indignation. Most of the functionaries who were to preside at the county
elections were either Roman Catholics or Protestant Dissenters who had
expressed their approbation of the Indulgence. [336] For a time the most
gloomy apprehensions prevailed: but soon they began to subside. There
was good reason to believe that there was a point beyond which the King
could not reckon on the support even of those Sheriffs who were members
of his own Church. Between the Roman Catholic courtier and the Roman
Catholic country gentleman there was very little sympathy. That cabal
which domineered at Whitehall consisted partly of fanatics, who were
ready to break through all rules of morality and to throw the world into
confusion for the purpose of propagating their religion, and partly of
hypocrites, who, for lucre, had apostatized from the faith in which they
had been brought up, and who now over acted the zeal characteristic
of neophytes. Both the fanatical and the hypocritical courtiers were
generally destitute of all English feeling. In some of them devotion
to their Church had extinguished every national sentiment. Some were
Irishmen, whose patriotism consisted in mortal hatred of the Saxon
conquerors of Ireland. Some, again, were traitors, who received regular
hire from a foreign power. Some had passed a great part of their lives
abroad, and either were mere cosmopolites, or felt a positive distaste
for the manners and institutions of the country which was now
subjected to their rule. Between such men and the lord of a Cheshire
or Staffordshire manor who adhered to the old Church there was scarcely
anything in common. He was neither a fanatic nor a hypocrite. He was a
Roman Catholic because his father and grandfather had been so; and he
held his hereditary faith, as men generally hold a hereditary faith,
sincerely, but with little enthusiasm. In all other points he was a
mere English squire, and, if he differed from the neighbouring squires,
differed from them by being somewhat more simple and clownish than
they. The disabilities under which he lay had prevented his mind from
expanding to the standard, moderate as that standard was, which
the minds of Protestant country gentlemen then ordinarily attained.
Excluded, when a boy, from Eton and Westminster, when a youth, from
Oxford and Cambridge, when a man, from Parliament and from the bench
of justice, he generally vegetated as quietly as the elms of the avenue
which led to his ancestral grange. His cornfields, his dairy and his
cider press, his greyhounds, his fishing rod and his gun, his ale and
his tobacco, occupied almost all his thoughts. With his neighbours, in
spite of his religion, he was generally on good terms. They knew him
to be unambitious and inoffensive. He was almost always of a good
old family. He was always a Cavalier. His peculiar notions were not
obtruded, and caused no annoyance. He did not, like a Puritan, torment
himself and others with scruples about everything that was pleasant. On
the contrary, he was as keen a sportsman, and as jolly a boon companion,
as any man who had taken the oath of supremacy and the declaration
against transubstantiation. He met his brother squires at the cover, was
in with them at the death, and, when the sport was over, took them home
with him to a venison pasty and to October four years in bottle. The
oppressions which he had undergone had not been such as to impel him
to any desperate resolution. Even when his Church was barbarously
persecuted, his life and property were in little danger. The most
impudent false witnesses could hardly venture to shock the common sense
of mankind by accusing him of being a conspirator. The Papists whom
Oates selected for attack were peers, prelates, Jesuits, Benedictines, a
busy political agent, a lawyer in high practice, a court physician. The
Roman Catholic country gentleman, protected by his obscurity, by his
peaceable demeanour, and by the good will of those among whom he lived,
carted his hay or filled his bag with game unmolested, while Coleman
and Langhorne, Whitbread and Pickering, Archbishop Plunkett and Lord
Stafford, died by the halter or the axe. An attempt was indeed made by
a knot of villains to bring home a charge of treason to Sir Thomas
Gascoigne, an aged Roman Catholic baronet of Yorkshire: but twelve of
the best gentlemen of the West Riding, who knew his way of life, could
not be convinced that their honest old acquaintance had hired cutthroats
to murder the King, and, in spite of charges which did very little
honour to the bench, found a verdict of Not Guilty. Sometimes, indeed,
the head of an old and respectable provincial family might reflect with
bitterness that he was excluded, on account of his religion, from places
of honour and authority which men of humbler descent and less ample
estate were thought competent to fill: but he was little disposed to
risk land and life in a struggle against overwhelming odds; and his
honest English spirit would have shrunk with horror from means such as
were contemplated by the Petres and Tyrconnels. Indeed he would have
been as ready as any of his Protestant neighbours to gird on his sword,
and to put pistols in his holsters, for the defence of his native land
against an invasion of French or Irish Papists. Such was the general
character of the men to whom James now looked as to his most trustworthy
instruments for the conduct of county elections. He soon found that they
were not inclined to throw away the esteem of their neighbours, and to
endanger their beads and their estates, by rendering him an infamous and
criminal service. Several of them refused to be Sheriffs. Of those who
accepted the shrievalty many declared that they would discharge their
duty as fairly as if they were members of the Established Church, and
would return no candidate who had not a real majority. [337]

If the King could place little confidence even in his Roman Catholic
Sheriffs, still less could he rely on the Puritans. Since the
publication of the Declaration several months had elapsed, months
crowded with important events, months of unintermitted controversy.
Discussion had opened the eyes of many Dissenters: but the acts of the
government, and especially the severity with which Magdalene College had
been treated, had done more than even the pen of Halifax to alarm and to
unite all classes of Protestants. Most of those sectaries who had been
induced to express gratitude for the Indulgence were now ashamed of
their error, and were desirous of making atonement by casting in their
lot with the great body of their countrymen.

The consequence of this change in the feeling of the Nonconformists, was
that the government found almost as great difficulty in the towns as in
the counties. When the regulators began their work, they had taken
it for granted that every Dissenter who had been induced to express
gratitude for the Indulgence would be favourable to the king's policy.
They were therefore confident that they should be able to fill all
the municipal offices in the kingdom with staunch friends. In the
new charters a power had been reserved to the crown of dismissing
magistrates at pleasure. This power was now exercised without limit. It
was by no means equally clear that James had the power of appointing new
magistrates: but, whether it belonged to him or not, he determined
to assume it. Everywhere, from the Tweed to the Land's End, Tory
functionaries were ejected, and the vacant places were filled with
Presbyterians, Independents, and Baptists. In the new charter of the
City of London the crown had reserved the power of displacing the
masters, wardens, and assistants of all the companies. Accordingly more
than eight hundred citizens of the first consideration, all of them
members of that party which had opposed the Exclusion Bill, were turned
out of office by a single edict. In a short time appeared a supplement
to this long list. [338] But scarcely had the new officebearers been
sworn in when it was discovered that they were as unmanageable as their
predecessors. At Newcastle on Tyne the regulators appointed a Roman
Catholic Mayor and Puritan Alderman. No doubt was entertained that the
municipal body, thus remodelled, would vote an address promising to
support the king's measures. The address, however, was negatived. The
mayor went up to London in a fury, and told the king that the Dissenters
were all knaves and rebels, and that in the whole corporation the
government could not reckon on more than four votes. [339] At Reading
twenty-four Tory aldermen were dismissed. Twenty-four new aldermen
were appointed. Twenty-three of these immediately declared against the
Indulgence, and were dismissed in their turn. [340] In the course of a
few days the borough of Yarmouth was governed by three different sets
of magistrates, all equally hostile to the court. [341] These are mere
examples of what was passing all over the kingdom. The Dutch Ambassador
informed the States that at many towns the public functionaries had,
within one month, been changed twice, and even thrice, and yet changed
in vain. [342] From the records of the Privy Council it appears that the
number of regulations, as they were called, exceeded two hundred. [343]
The regulators indeed found that, in not a few places, the change
had been for the worse. The discontented Tories, even while murmuring
against the king's policy, had constantly expressed respect for his
person and his office, and had disclaimed all thoughts of resistance.
Very different was the language of some of the new members of
corporations. It was said that old soldiers of the Commonwealth, who, to
their own astonishment and that of the public, had been made aldermen,
gave the agents of the court very distinctly to understand that blood
should flow before Popery and arbitrary power were established in
England. [344]

The regulators found that little or nothing had been gained by what had
as yet been done. There was one way, and one way only, in which they
could hope to effect their object. The charters of the boroughs must
be resumed; and other charters must be granted confining the elective
franchise to very small constituent bodies appointed by the sovereign.
[345]

But how was this plan to be carried into effect? In a few of the new
charters, indeed, a right of revocation had been reserved to the crown:
but the rest James could get into his hands only by voluntary surrender
on the part of corporations, or by judgment of the King's Bench. Few
corporations were now disposed to surrender their charters voluntarily;
and such judgments as would suit the purposes of the government were
hardly to be expected even from such a slave as Wright. The writs of Quo
Warranto which had been brought a few years before for the purpose of
crushing the Whig party had been condemned by every impartial man. Yet
those writs had at least the semblance of justice; for they were brought
against ancient municipal bodies; and there were few ancient municipal
bodies in which some abuse, sufficient to afford a pretext for a penal
proceeding, had not grown up in the course of ages. But the corporations
now to be attacked were still in the innocence of infancy. The oldest
among them had not completed its fifth year. It was impossible that many
of them should have committed offences meriting disfranchisement. The
Judges themselves were uneasy. They represented that what they were
required to do was in direct opposition to the plainest principles
of law and justice: but all remonstrance was vain. The boroughs were
commanded to surrender their charters. Few complied; and the course
which the King took with those few did not encourage others to trust
him. In several towns the right of voting was taken away from the
commonalty, and given to a very small number of persons, who were
required to bind themselves by oath to support the candidates
recommended by the government. At Tewkesbury, for example, the franchise
was confined to thirteen persons. Yet even this number was too large.
Hatred and fear had spread so widely through the community that it
was scarcely possible to bring together in any town, by any process of
packing, thirteen men on whom the court could absolutely depend. It was
rumoured that the majority of the new constituent body of Tewkesbury was
animated by the same sentiment which was general throughout the nation,
and would, when the decisive day should arrive, send true Protestants
to Parliament. The regulators in great wrath threatened to reduce the
number of electors to three. [346] Meanwhile the great majority of
the boroughs firmly refused to give up their privileges. Barnstaple,
Winchester, and Buckingham, distinguished themselves by the boldness of
their opposition. At Oxford the motion that the city should resign its
franchises to the King was negatived by eighty votes to two. [347] The
Temple and Westminster Hall were in a ferment with the sudden rush of
business from all corners of the kingdom. Every lawyer in high practice
was overwhelmed with the briefs from corporations. Ordinary litigants
complained that their business was neglected. [348] It was evident that
a considerable time must elapse before judgment could be given in so
great a number of important cases. Tyranny could ill brook this delay.
Nothing was omitted which could terrify the refractory boroughs into
submission. At Buckingham some of the municipal officers had spoken of
Jeffreys in language which was not laudatory. They were prosecuted, and
were given to understand that no mercy should be shown to them unless
they would ransom themselves by surrendering their charter. [349] At
Winchester still more violent measures were adopted. A large body of
troops was marched into the town for the sole purpose of burdening and
harassing the inhabitants. [350] The town continued resolute; and the
public voice loudly accused the King of imitating the worst crimes of
his brother of France. The dragonades, it was said, had begun. There was
indeed reason for alarm. It had occurred to James that he could not more
effectually break the spirit of an obstinate town than by quartering
soldiers on the inhabitants. He must have known that this practice had
sixty years before excited formidable discontents, and had been solemnly
pronounced illegal by the Petition of Right, a statute scarcely less
venerated by Englishmen than the Great Charter. But he hoped to obtain
from the courts of law a declaration that even the Petition of Right
could not control the prerogative. He actually consulted the Chief
justice of the King's Bench on this subject: [351] but the result of the
consultation remained secret; and in a very few weeks the aspect of
affairs became such that a fear stronger than even the fear of the royal
displeasure began to impose some restraint even on a man so servile as
Wright.

While the Lords Lieutenants were questioning the justices of the Peace,
while the regulators were remodelling the boroughs, all the public
departments were subjected to a strict inquisition. The palace was first
purified. Every battered old Cavalier, who, in return for blood and
lands lost in the royal cause, had obtained some small place under the
Keeper of the Wardrobe or the Master of the Harriers, was called upon to
choose between the King and the Church. The Commissioners of Customs
and Excise were ordered to attend His Majesty at the Treasury. There he
demanded from them a promise to support his policy, and directed them
to require a similar promise from all their subordinates. [352] One
Customhouse officer notified his submission to the royal will in a
way which excited both merriment and compassion. "I have," he said,
"fourteen reasons for obeying His Majesty's commands, a wife and
thirteen young children. " [353] Such reasons were indeed cogent; yet there
were not a few instances in which, even against such reasons, religious
and patriotic feelings prevailed.

There is reason to believe that the government at this time seriously
meditated a blow which would have reduced many thousands of families to
beggary, and would have disturbed the whole social system of every
part of the country. No wine, beer, or coffee could be sold without a
license. It was rumoured that every person holding such a license would
shortly be required to enter into the same engagements which had been
imposed on public functionaries, or to relinquish his trade. [354]
It seems certain that, if such a step had been taken, the houses of
entertainment and of public resort all over the kingdom would have been
at once shut up by hundreds. What effect such an interference with the
comfort of all ranks would have produced must be left to conjecture. The
resentment produced by grievances is not always proportioned to their
dignity; and it is by no means improbable that the resumption of
licenses might have done what the resumption of charters had failed
to do. Men of fashion would have missed the chocolate house in Saint
James's Street, and men of business the coffee pot, round which they
were accustomed to smoke and talk politics, in Change Alley. Half the
clubs would have been wandering in search of shelter. The traveller
at nightfall would have found the inn where he had expected to sup and
lodge deserted. The clown would have regretted the hedge alehouse, where
he had been accustomed to take his pot on the bench before the door in
summer, and at the chimney corner in winter. The nation might, perhaps
under such provocation, have risen in general rebellion without waiting
for the help of foreign allies.

It was not to be expected that a prince who required all the humblest
servants of the government to support his policy on pain of dismission
would continue to employ an Attorney General whose aversion to that
policy was no secret. Sawyer had been suffered to retain his situation
more than a year and a half after he had declared against the dispensing
power. This extraordinary indulgence he owed to the extreme difficulty
which the government found in supplying his place. It was necessary, for
the protection of the pecuniary interests of the crown, that at least
one of the two chief law officers should be a man of ability and
knowledge; and it was by no means easy to induce any barrister of
ability and knowledge to put himself in peril by committing every day
acts which the next Parliament would probably treat as high crimes and
misdemeanours. It had been impossible to procure a better Solicitor
General than Powis, a man who indeed stuck at nothing, but who was
incompetent to perform the ordinary duties of his post. In these
circumstances it was thought desirable that there should be a division
of labour. An Attorney, the value of whose professional talents was much
diminished by his conscientious scruples, was coupled with a Solicitor
whose want of scruples made some amends for his want of talents. When
the government wished to enforce the law, recourse was had to Sawyer.
When the government wished to break the law, recourse was had to Powis.
This arrangement lasted till the king obtained the services of an
advocate who was at once baser than Powis and abler than Sawyer.

No barrister living had opposed the court with more virulence than
William Williams. He had distinguished himself in the late reign as a
Whig and an Exclusionist. When faction was at the height, he had been
chosen Speaker of the House of Commons. After the prorogation of the
Oxford Parliament he had commonly been counsel for the most noisy
demagogues who had been accused of sedition. He was allowed to possess
considerable quickness and knowledge. His chief faults were supposed
to be rashness and party spirit. It was not yet suspected that he had
faults compared with which rashness and party spirit might well pass for
virtues. The government sought occasion against him, and easily found
it. He had published, by order of the House of Commons, a narrative
which Dangerfield had written. This narrative, if published by a
private man, would undoubtedly have been a seditious libel. A criminal
information was filed in the King's Bench against Williams: he pleaded
the privileges of Parliament in vain: he was convicted and sentenced
to a fine of ten thousand pounds. A large part of this sum he actually
paid: for the rest he gave a bond. The Earl of Peterborough, who had
been injuriously mentioned in Dangerfield's narrative, was encouraged,
by the success of the criminal information, to bring a civil action,
and to demand large damages. Williams was driven to extremity. At this
juncture a way of escape presented itself. It was indeed a way which, to
a man of strong principles or high spirit, would have been more dreadful
than beggary, imprisonment, or death. He might sell himself to that
government of which he had been the enemy and the victim. He might offer
to go on the forlorn hope in every assault on those liberties and on
that religion for which he had professed an inordinate zeal. He might
expiate his Whiggism by performing services from which bigoted Tories,
stained with the blood of Russell and Sidney, shrank in horror. The
bargain was struck. The debt still due to the crown was remitted.
Peterborough was induced, by royal mediation, to compromise his action.
Sawyer was dismissed. Powis became Attorney General. Williams was made
Solicitor, received the honour of knighthood, and was soon a favourite.
Though in rank he was only the second law officer of the crown, his
abilities, learning, and energy were such that he completely threw his
superior into the shade. [355]

Williams had not been long in office when he was required to bear a
chief part in the most memorable state trial recorded in the British
annals.

On the twenty-seventh of April 1688, the King put forth a second
Declaration of Indulgence. In this paper he recited at length the
Declaration of the preceding April. His past life, he said, ought to
have convinced his people that he was not a person who could easily
be induced to depart from any resolution which he had formed. But,
as designing men had attempted to persuade the world that he might be
prevailed on to give way in this matter, he thought it necessary to
proclaim that his purpose was immutably fixed, that he was resolved to
employ those only who were prepared to concur in his design, and that he
had, in pursuance of that resolution, dismissed many of his disobedient
servants from civil and military employments. He announced that he meant
to hold a Parliament in November at the latest; and he exhorted his
subjects to choose representatives who would assist him in the great
work which he had undertaken. [356]

This Declaration at first produced little sensation. It contained
nothing new; and men wondered that the King should think it worth while
to publish a solemn manifesto merely for the purpose of telling them
that he had not changed his mind. [357] Perhaps James was nettled by
the indifference with which the announcement of his fixed resolution was
received by the public, and thought that his dignity and authority would
suffer unless he without delay did something novel and striking. On
the fourth of May, accordingly, he made an Order in Council that his
Declaration of the preceding week should be read, on two successive
Sundays at the time of divine service, by the officiating ministers
of all the churches and chapels of the kingdom. In London and in
the suburbs the reading was to take place on the twentieth and
twenty-seventh of May, in other parts of England on the third and
tenth of June. The Bishops were directed to distribute copies of the
Declaration through their respective dioceses. [358]

When it is considered that the clergy of the Established Church, with
scarcely an exception, regarded the Indulgence as a violation of the
laws of the realm, as a breach of the plighted faith of the King, and
as a fatal blow levelled at the interest and dignity of their own
profession, it will scarcely admit of doubt that the Order in Council
was intended to be felt by them as a cruel affront. It was popularly
believed that Petre had avowed this intention in a coarse metaphor
borrowed from the rhetoric of the East. He would, he said, make them
eat dirt, the vilest and most loathsome of all dirt. But, tyrannical and
malignant as the mandate was, would the Anglican priesthood refuse to
obey? The King's temper was arbitrary and severe. The proceedings of the
Ecclesiastical Commission were as summary as those of a court martial.
Whoever ventured to resist might in a week be ejected from his
parsonage, deprived of his whole income, pronounced incapable of holding
any other spiritual preferment, and left to beg from door to door. If,
indeed, the whole body offered an united opposition to the royal will,
it was probable that even James would scarcely venture to punish
ten thousand delinquents at once. But there was not time to form an
extensive combination. The Order in Council was gazetted on the seventh
of May. On the twentieth the Declaration was to be read in all the
pulpits of London and the neighbourhood. By no exertion was it possible
in that age to ascertain within a fortnight the intentions of one tenth
part of the parochial ministers who were scattered over the kingdom.
It was not easy to collect in so short a time the sense even of the
episcopal order. It might also well be apprehended that, if the clergy
refused to read the Declaration, the Protestant Dissenters would
misinterpret the refusal, would despair of obtaining any toleration from
the members of the Church of England, and would throw their whole weight
into the scale of the court.

The clergy therefore hesitated; and this hesitation may well be excused:
for some eminent laymen, who possessed a large share of the public
confidence, were disposed to recommend submission. They thought that
a general opposition could hardly be expected, and that a partial
opposition would be ruinous to individuals, and of little advantage to
the Church and to the nation. Such was the opinion given at this time
by Halifax and Nottingham. The day drew near; and still there was no
concert and no formed resolution. [359]

At this conjuncture the Protestant Dissenters of London won for
themselves a title to the lasting gratitude of their country. They had
hitherto been reckoned by the government as part of its strength.
A few
of their most active and noisy preachers, corrupted by the favours of
the court, had got up addresses in favour of the King's policy. Others,
estranged by the recollection of many cruel wrongs both from the
Church of England and from the House of Stuart, had seen with resentful
pleasure the tyrannical prince and the tyrannical hierarchy separated
by a bitter enmity, and bidding against each other for the help of sects
lately persecuted and despised. But this feeling, however natural, had
been indulged long enough. The time had come when it was necessary to
make a choice: and the Nonconformists of the City, with a noble spirit,
arrayed themselves side by side with the members of the Church in
defence of the fundamental laws of the realm. Baxter, Bates, and Howe
distinguished themselves by their efforts to bring about this coalition:
but the generous enthusiasm which pervaded the whole Puritan body made
the task easy. The zeal of the flocks outran that of the pastors. Those
Presbyterian and Independent teachers who showed an inclination to take
part with the King against the ecclesiastical establishment received
distinct notice that, unless they changed their conduct, their
congregations would neither hear them nor pay them. Alsop, who had
flattered himself that he should be able to bring over a great body of
his disciples to the royal side, found himself on a sudden an object
of contempt and abhorrence to those who had lately revered him as their
spiritual guide, sank into a deep melancholy, and hid himself from the
public eye. Deputations waited on several of the London clergy imploring
them not to judge of the dissenting body from the servile adulation
which had lately filled the London Gazette, and exhorting them, placed
as they were in the van of this great fight, to play the men for the
liberties of England and for the faith delivered to the Saints. These
assurances were received with joy and gratitude. Yet there was still
much anxiety and much difference of opinion among those who had to
decide whether, on Sunday the twentieth, they would or would not obey
the King's command. The London clergy, then universally acknowledged to
be the flower of their profession, held a meeting. Fifteen Doctors
of Divinity were present. Tillotson, Dean of Canterbury, the most
celebrated preacher of the age, came thither from a sick bed. Sherlock,
Master of the Temple, Patrick, Dean of Peterborough and Rector of
the important parish of St. Paul's, Covent Garden, and Stillingfleet,
Archdeacon of London and Dean of St. Paul's Cathedral, attended. The
general feeling of the assembly seemed to be that it was, on the whole,
advisable to obey the Order in Council. The dispute began to wax warm,
and might have produced fatal consequences, if it had not been brought
to a close by the firmness and wisdom of Doctor Edward Fowler, Vicar of
St. Giles's, Cripplegate, one of a small but remarkable class of divines
who united that love of civil liberty which belonged to the school of
Calvin with the theology of the school of Arminius. [360] Standing up,
Fowler spoke thus: "I must be plain. The question is so simple that
argument can throw no new light on it, and can only beget heat. Let
every man say Yes or No. But I cannot consent to be bound by the vote
of the majority. I shall be sorry to cause a breach of unity. But this
Declaration I cannot in conscience read. " Tillotson, Patrick, Sherlock,
and Stillingfleet declared that they were of the same mind. The majority
yielded to the authority of a minority so respectable. A resolution
by which all present pledged themselves to one another not to read the
Declaration was then drawn up. Patrick was the first who set his hand
to it; Fowler was the second. The paper was sent round the city, and was
speedily subscribed by eighty-five incumbents. [361]

Meanwhile several of the Bishops were anxiously deliberating as to the
course which they should take. On the twelfth of May a grave and
learned company was assembled round the table of the Primate at Lambeth.
Compton, Bishop of London, Turner, Bishop of Ely, White, Bishop of
Peterborough, and Tenison, Rector of St. Martin's parish, were among the
guests. The Earl of Clarendon, a zealous and uncompromising friend of
the Church, had been invited. Cartwright, Bishop of Chester, intruded
himself on the meeting, probably as a spy. While he remained, no
confidential communication could take place; but, after his departure,
the great question of which all minds were full was propounded and
discussed. The general opinion was that the Declaration ought not to be
read. Letters were forthwith written to several of the most respectable
prelates of the province of Canterbury, entreating them to come
up without delay to London, and to strengthen the hands of their
metropolitan at this conjuncture. [362] As there was little doubt that
these letters would be opened if they passed through the office in
Lombard Street, they were sent by horsemen to the nearest country post
towns on the different roads. The Bishop of Winchester, whose loyalty
had been so signally proved at Sedgemoor, though suffering from
indisposition, resolved to set out in obedience to the summons, but
found himself unable to bear the motion of a coach. The letter addressed
to William Lloyd, Bishop of Norwich, was, in spite of all precautions,
detained by a postmaster; and that prelate, inferior to none of his
brethren in courage and in zeal for the common cause of his order, did
not reach London in time. [363] His namesake, William Lloyd, Bishop of
St. Asaph, a pious, honest, and learned man, but of slender judgment,
and half crazed by his persevering endeavours to extract from Daniel and
the Revelations some information about the Pope and the King of France,
hastened to the capital and arrived on the sixteenth. [364] On the
following day came the excellent Ken, Bishop of Bath and Wells, Lake,
Bishop of Chichester, and Sir John Trelawney, Bishop of Bristol, a
baronet of an old and honourable Cornish family.

On the eighteenth a meeting of prelates and of other eminent divines
was held at Lambeth. Tillotson, Tenison, Stillingfleet, Patrick,
and Sherlock, were present. Prayers were solemnly read before the
consultation began. After long deliberation, a petition embodying the
general sense was written by the Archbishop with his own hand. It was
not drawn up with much felicity of style. Indeed, the cumbrous and
inelegant structure of the sentences brought on Sancroft some raillery,
which he bore with less patience than he showed under much heavier
trials. But in substance nothing could be more skilfully framed than
this memorable document. All disloyalty, all intolerance, was earnestly
disclaimed. The King was assured that the Church still was, as she had
ever been, faithful to the throne. He was assured also that the Bishops
would, in proper place and time, as Lords of Parliament and members
of the Upper House of Convocation, show that they by no means wanted
tenderness for the conscientious scruples of Dissenters. But Parliament
had, both in the late and in the present reign, pronounced that the
sovereign was not constitutionally competent to dispense with statutes
in matters ecclesiastical. The Declaration was therefore illegal;
and the petitioners could not, in prudence, honour, or conscience, be
parties to the solemn publication of an illegal Declaration in the house
of God, and during the time of divine service.

This paper was signed by the Archbishop and by six of his suffragans,
Lloyd of St. Asaph, Turner of Ely, Lake of Chichester, Ken of Bath and
Wells, White of Peterborough, and Trelawney of Bristol. The Bishop of
London, being under suspension, did not sign.

It was now late on Friday evening: and on Sunday morning the Declaration
was to be read in the churches of London. It was necessary to put the
paper into the King's hands without delay. The six Bishops set off for
Whitehall. The Archbishop, who had long been forbidden the court, did
not accompany them. Lloyd, leaving his five brethren at the house of
Lord Dartmouth in the vicinity of the palace, went to Sunderland, and
begged that minister to read the petition, and to ascertain when the
King would be willing to receive it. Sunderland, afraid of compromising
himself, refused to look at the paper, but went immediately to the royal
closet. James directed that the Bishops should be admitted. He had
heard from his tool Cartwright that they were disposed to obey the royal
mandate, but that they wished for some little modifications in form, and
that they meant to present a humble request to that effect. His Majesty
was therefore in very good humour. When they knelt before him, he
graciously told them to rise, took the paper from Lloyd, and said, "This
is my Lord of Canterbury's hand. " "Yes, sir, his own hand," was the
answer. James read the petition; he folded it up; and his countenance
grew dark. "This," he said, "is a great surprise to me. I did not expect
this from your Church, especially from some of you. This is a standard
of rebellion. " The Bishops broke out into passionate professions of
loyalty: but the King, as usual, repeated the same words over and
over. "I tell you, this is a standard of rebellion. " "Rebellion! " cried
Trelawney, falling on his knees. "For God's sake, sir, do not say so
hard a thing of us. No Trelawney can be a rebel. Remember that my
family has fought for the crown. Remember how I served your Majesty when
Monmouth was in the West. " "We put down the last rebellion," said Lake,
"we shall not raise another. " "We rebel! " exclaimed Turner; "we are
ready to die at your Majesty's feet. " "Sir," said Ken, in a more manly
tone, "I hope that you will grant to us that liberty of conscience which
you grant to all mankind. " Still James went on. "This is rebellion.
This is a standard of rebellion. Did ever a good Churchman question
the dispensing power before? Have not some of you preached for it
and written for it? It is a standard of rebellion. I will have my
Declaration published. " "We have two duties to perform," answered Ken,
"our duty to God, and our duty to your Majesty. We honour you, but we
fear God. " "Have I deserved this? " said the King, more and more, angry,
"I who have been such a friend to your Church! I did not expect this
from some of you. I will be obeyed. My Declaration shall be published.
You are trumpeters of sedition. What do you do here? Go to your dioceses
and see that I am obeyed. I will keep this paper. I will not part with
it. I will remember you that have signed it. " "God's will be done," said
Ken. "God has given me the dispensing power," said the King, "and I
will maintain it. I tell you that there are still seven thousand of your
Church who have not bowed the knee to Baal. " The Bishops respectfully
retired. [365] That very evening the document which they had put into
the hands of the King appeared word for word in print, was laid on
the tables of all the coffeehouses, and was cried about the streets.
Everywhere the people rose from their beds, and came out to stop the
hawkers. It was said that the printer cleared a thousand pounds in a few
hours by this penny broadside. This is probably an exaggeration; but
it is an exaggeration which proves that the sale was enormous. How the
petition got abroad is still a mystery. Sancroft declared that he had
taken every precaution against publication, and that he knew of no copy
except that which he had himself written, and which James had taken out
of Lloyd's hand. The veracity of the Archbishop is beyond all suspicion.
It is, however, by no means improbable that some of the divines
who assisted in framing the petition may have remembered so short
a composition accurately, and may have sent it to the press. The
prevailing opinion, however, was that some person about the King had
been indiscreet or treacherous. [366] Scarcely less sensation was
produced by a short letter which was written with great power of
argument and language, printed secretly, and largely circulated on the
same day by the post and by the common carriers. A copy was sent to
every clergyman in the kingdom. The writer did not attempt to disguise
the danger which those who disobeyed the royal mandate would incur: but
he set forth in a lively manner the still greater danger of submission.
"If we read the Declaration," said he, "we fall to rise no more. We fall
unpitied and despised. We fall amidst the curses of a nation whom our
compliance will have ruined. " Some thought that this paper came from
Holland. Others attributed it to Sherlock. But Prideaux, Dean of
Norwich, who was a principal agent in distributing it, believed it to be
the work of Halifax.

The conduct of the prelates was rapturously extolled by the general
voice: but some murmurs were heard. It was said that such grave men,
if they thought themselves bound in conscience to remonstrate with the
King, ought to have remonstrated earlier. Was it fair to him to leave
him in the dark till within thirty-six hours of the time fixed for the
reading of the Declaration? Even if he wished to revoke the Order in
Council, it was too late to do so. The inference seemed to be that the
petition was intended, not to move the royal mind, but merely to inflame
the discontents of the people. [367] These complaints were utterly
groundless. The King had laid on the Bishops a command new, surprising,
and embarrassing. It was their duty to communicate with each other, and
to ascertain as far as possible the sense of the profession of which
they were the heads before they took any step. They were dispersed over
the whole kingdom. Some of them were distant from others a full week's
journey. James allowed them only a fortnight to inform themselves, to
meet, to deliberate, and to decide; and he surely had no right to think
himself aggrieved because that fortnight was drawing to a close before
he learned their decision. Nor is it true that they did not leave him
time to revoke his order if he had been wise enough to do so. He might
have called together his Council on Saturday morning, and before night
it might have been known throughout London and the suburbs that he had
yielded to the intreaties of the fathers of the Church. The Saturday,
however, passed over without any sign of relenting on the part of the
government, and the Sunday arrived, a day long remembered.

In the City and Liberties of London were about a hundred parish
churches. In only four of these was the Order in Council obeyed. At
Saint Gregory's the Declaration was read by a divine of the name of
Martin. As soon as he uttered the first words, the whole congregation
rose and withdrew. At Saint Matthew's, in Friday Street, a wretch named
Timothy Hall, who had disgraced his gown by acting as broker for the
Duchess of Portsmouth in the sale of pardons, and who now had hopes of
obtaining the vacant bishopric of Oxford, was in like manner left alone
in his church. At Serjeant's Inn, in Chancery Lane, the clerk pretended
that he had forgotten to bring a copy; and the Chief justice of the
King's Bench, who had attended in order to see that the royal mandate
was obeyed, was forced to content himself with this excuse. Samuel
Wesley, the father of John and Charles Wesley, a curate in London, took
for his text that day the noble answer of the three Jews to the Chaldean
tyrant. "Be it known unto thee, O King, that we will not serve thy gods,
nor worship the golden image which thou hast set up. " Even in the chapel
of Saint James's Palace the officiating minister had the courage to
disobey the order. The Westminster boys long remembered what took place
that day in the Abbey. Sprat, Bishop of Rochester, officiated there as
Dean. As soon as he began to read the Declaration, murmurs and the noise
of people crowding out of the choir drowned his voice. He trembled so
violently that men saw the paper shake in his hand. Long before he had
finished, the place was deserted by all but those whose situation made
it necessary for them to remain. [368]

Never had the Church been so dear to the nation as on the afternoon of
that day. The spirit of dissent seemed to be extinct. Baxter from his
pulpit pronounced an eulogium on the Bishops and parochial clergy. The
Dutch minister, a few hours later, wrote to inform the States General
that the Anglican priesthood had risen in the estimation of the public
to an incredible degree. The universal cry of the Nonconformists,
he said, was that they would rather continue to lie under the penal
statutes than separate their cause from that of the prelates. [369]

Another week of anxiety and agitation passed away. Sunday came
again. Again the churches of the capital were thronged by hundreds
of thousands. The Declaration was read nowhere except at the very few
places where it had been read the week before. The minister who had
officiated at the chapel in Saint James's Palace had been turned out of
his situation, and a more obsequious divine appeared with the paper in
his hand: but his agitation was so great that he could not articulate.
In truth the feeling of the whole nation had now become such as none
but the very best and noblest, or the very worst and basest, of mankind
could without much discomposure encounter. [370]

Even the King stood aghast for a moment at the violence of the tempest
which he had raised. What step was he next to take? He must either
advance or recede: and it was impossible to advance without peril, or to
recede without humiliation. At one moment he determined to put forth a
second order enjoining the clergy in high and angry terms to publish
his Declaration, and menacing every one who should be refractory with
instant suspension. This order was drawn up and sent to the press, then
recalled, then a second time sent to the press, then recalled a second
time. [371] A different plan was suggested by some of those who were
for rigorous measures. The prelates who had signed the petition might be
cited before the Ecclesiastical Commission and deprived of their sees.
But to this course strong objections were urged in Council. It had been
announced that the Houses would be convoked before the end of the
year. The Lords would assuredly treat the sentence of deprivation as a
nullity, would insist that Sancroft and his fellow petitioners should be
summoned to Parliament, and would refuse to acknowledge a new Archbishop
of Canterbury or a new Bishop of Bath and Wells. Thus the session, which
at best was likely to be sufficiently stormy, would commence with a
deadly quarrel between the crown and the peers. If therefore it were
thought necessary to punish the Bishops, the punishment ought to be
inflicted according to the known course of English law. Sunderland
had from the beginning objected, as far as he dared, to the Order
in Council. He now suggested a course which, though not free from
inconveniences, was the most prudent and the most dignified that a
series of errors had left open to the government. The King might with
grace and majesty announce to the world that he was deeply hurt by the
undutiful conduct of the Church of England; but that he could not
forget all the services rendered by that Church, in trying times, to his
father, to his brother, and to himself; that, as a friend to the liberty
of conscience, he was unwilling to deal severely by men whom conscience,
ill informed indeed, and unreasonably scrupulous, might have prevented
from obeying his commands; and that he would therefore leave the
offenders to that punishment which their own reflections would inflict
whenever they should calmly compare their recent acts with the loyal
doctrines of which they had so loudly boasted. Not only Powis and
Bellasyse, who had always been for moderate counsels, but even Dover and
Arundell, leaned towards this proposition. Jeffreys, on the other hand,
maintained that the government would be disgraced if such transgressors
as the seven Bishops were suffered to escape with a mere reprimand.
He did not, however, wish them to be cited before the Ecclesiastical
Commission, in which he sate as chief or rather as sole judge. For the
load of public hatred under which he already lay was too much even
for his shameless forehead and obdurate heart; and he shrank from the
responsibility which he would have incurred by pronouncing an illegal
sentence on the rulers of the Church and the favourites of the nation.
He therefore recommended a criminal information. It was accordingly
resolved that the Archbishop and the six other petititioners should be
brought before the Court of King's Bench on a charge of seditious libel.
That they would be convicted it was scarcely possible to doubt. The
judges and their officers were tools of the court. Since the old charter
of the City of London had been forfeited, scarcely one prisoner whom
the government was bent on bringing to punishment had been absolved by
a jury. The refractory prelates would probably be condemned to ruinous
fines and to long imprisonment, and would be glad to ransom themselves
by serving, both in and out of Parliament, the designs of the Sovereign.
[372]

On the twenty-seventh of May it was notified to the Bishops that on the
eighth of June they must appear before the King in Council. Why so long
an interval was allowed we are not informed. Perhaps James hoped that
some of the offenders, terrified by his displeasure, might submit before
the day fixed for the reading of the Declaration in their dioceses, and
might, in order to make their peace with him, persuade their clergy to
obey his order. If such was his hope it was signally disappointed.

Sunday the third of June came; and all parts of England followed the
example of the capital. Already the Bishops of Norwich, Gloucester,
Salisbury, Winchester, and Exeter, had signed copies of the petition
in token of their approbation. The Bishop of Worcester had refused to
distribute the Declaration among his clergy.