In their mode of dealing
with him they were fettered by no rules.
with him they were fettered by no rules.
Macaulay
Even Jeffreys was startled, and ventured to represent that
such a proceeding was without example, that the book was written in a
foreign tongue, that it had been printed at a foreign press, that it
related entirely to transactions which had taken place in a foreign
country, and that no English government had ever animadverted on
such works. James would not suffer the question to be discussed. "My
resolution," he said, "is taken. It has become the fashion to treat
Kings disrespectfully; and they must stand by each other. One King
should always take another's part: and I have particular reasons for
showing this respect to the King of France. " There was silence at
the board. The order was forthwith issued; and Claude's pamphlet was
committed to the flames, not without the deep murmurs of many who had
always been reputed steady loyalists. [74]
The promised collection was long put off under various pretexts. The
King would gladly have broken his word; but it was pledged so solemnly
that he could not for very shame retract. [75] Nothing, however, which
could cool the zeal of congregations was omitted. It had been expected
that, according to the practice usual on such occasions, the people
would be exhorted to liberality from the pulpits. But James was
determined not to tolerate declamations against his religion and his
ally. The Archbishop of Canterbury was therefore commanded to inform
the clergy that they must merely read the brief, and must not presume
to preach on the sufferings of the French Protestants. [76] Nevertheless
the contributions were so large that, after all deductions, the sum of
forty thousand pounds was paid into the Chamber of London. Perhaps none
of the munificent subscriptions of our own age has borne so great a
proportion to the means of the nation. [77]
The King was bitterly mortified by the large amount of the collection
which had been made in obedience to his own call. He knew, he said, what
all this liberality meant. It was mere Whiggish spite to himself and his
religion. [78] He had already resolved that the money should be of no
use to those whom the donors wished to benefit. He had been, during some
weeks, in close communication with the French embassy on this subject,
and had, with the approbation of the court of Versailles, determined on
a course which it is not very easy to reconcile with those principles of
toleration to which he afterwards pretended to be attached. The refugees
were zealous for the Calvinistic discipline and worship. James therefore
gave orders that none should receive a crust of bread or a basket of
coals who did not first take the sacrament according to the Anglican
ritual. [79] It is strange that this inhospitable rule should have been
devised by a prince who affected to consider the Test Act as an outrage
on the rights of conscience: for, however unjustifiable it may be to
establish a sacramental test for the purpose of ascertaining whether
men are fit for civil and military office, it is surely much more
unjustifiable to establish a sacramental test for the purpose of
ascertaining whether, in their extreme distress, they are fit objects of
charity. Nor had James the plea which may be urged in extenuation of
the guilt of almost all other persecutors: for the religion which he
commanded the refugees to profess, on pain of being left to starve,
was not his own religion. His conduct towards them was therefore less
excusable than that of Lewis: for Lewis oppressed them in the hope of
bringing them over from a damnable heresy to the true Church: James
oppressed them only for the purpose of forcing them to apostatize from
one damnable heresy to another.
Several Commissioners, of whom the Chancellor was one, had been
appointed to dispense the public alms. When they met for the first time,
Jeffreys announced the royal pleasure. The refugees, he said, were too
generally enemies of monarchy and episcopacy. If they wished for relief,
they must become members of the Church of England, and must take the
sacrament from the hands of his chaplain. Many exiles, who had come full
of gratitude and hope to apply for succour, heard their sentence, and
went brokenhearted away. [80]
May was now approaching; and that month had been fixed for the meeting
of the Houses: but they were again prorogued to November. [81] It
was not strange that the King did not wish to meet them: for he had
determined to adopt a policy which he knew to be, in the highest degree,
odious to them. From his predecessors he had inherited two prerogatives,
of which the limits had never been defined with strict accuracy, and
which, if exerted without any limit, would of themselves have sufficed
to overturn the whole polity of the State and of the Church. These were
the dispensing power and the ecclesiastical supremacy. By means of the
dispensing power the King purposed to admit Roman Catholics, not merely
to civil and military, but to spiritual, offices. By means of the
ecclesiastical supremacy he hoped to make the Anglican clergy his
instruments for the destruction of their own religion.
This scheme developed itself by degrees. It was not thought safe to
begin by granting to the whole Roman Catholic body a dispensation from
all statutes imposing penalties and tests. For nothing was more fully
established than that such a dispensation was illegal. The Cabal had,
in 1672, put forth a general Declaration of Indulgence. The Commons,
as soon as they met, had protested against it. Charles the Second had
ordered it to be cancelled in his presence, and had, both by his own
mouth and by a written message, assured the Houses that the step which
had caused so much complaint should never be drawn into precedent. It
would have been difficult to find in all the Inns of Court a barrister
of reputation to argue in defence of a prerogative which the Sovereign,
seated on his throne in full Parliament, had solemnly renounced a few
years before. But it was not quite so clear that the King might not,
on special grounds, grant exemptions to individuals by name. The first
object of James, therefore, was to obtain from the courts of common
law an acknowledgment that, to this extent at least, he possessed the
dispensing power.
But, though his pretensions were moderate when compared with those which
he put forth a few months later, he soon found that he had against him
almost the whole sense of Westminster Hall. Four of the Judges gave him
to understand that they could not, on this occasion, serve his purpose;
and it is remarkable that all the four were violent Tories, and that
among them were men who had accompanied Jeffreys on the Bloody Circuit,
and who had consented to the death of Cornish and of Elizabeth Gaunt.
Jones, the Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, a man who had never before
shrunk from any drudgery, however cruel or servile, now held in the
royal closet language which might have become the lips of the purest
magistrates in our history. He was plainly told that he must either
give up his opinion or his place. "For my place," he answered, "I care
little. I am old and worn out in the service of the crown; but I am
mortified to find that your Majesty thinks me capable of giving a
judgment which none but an ignorant or a dishonest man could give. " "I
am determined," said the King, "to have twelve Judges who will be all
of my mind as to this matter. " "Your Majesty," answered Jones, "may
find twelve Judges of your mind, but hardly twelve lawyers. " [82] He was
dismissed together with Montague, Chief Baron of the Exchequer, and
two puisne Judges, Neville and Charlton. One of the new Judges was
Christopher Milton, younger brother of the great poet. Of Christopher
little is known except that, in the time of the civil war, he had been
a Royalist, and that he now, in his old age, leaned towards Popery. It
does not appear that he was ever formally reconciled to the Church of
Rome: but he certainly had scruples about communicating with the Church
of England, and had therefore a strong interest in supporting the
dispensing power. [83]
The King found his counsel as refractory as his Judges. The first
barrister who learned that he was expected to defend the dispensing
power was the Solicitor General, Heneage Finch. He peremptorily refused,
and was turned out of office on the following day. [84] The Attorney
General, Sawyer, was ordered to draw warrants authorising members of
the Church of Rome to hold benefices belonging to the Church of England.
Sawyer had been deeply concerned in some of the harshest and most
unjustifiable prosecutions of that age; and the Whigs abhorred him as a
man stained with the blood of Russell and Sidney: but on this occasion
he showed no want of honesty or of resolution. "Sir," said he, "this is
not merely to dispense with a statute; it is to annul the whole statute
law from the accession of Elizabeth to this day. I dare not do it; and I
implore your Majesty to consider whether such an attack upon the rights
of the Church be in accordance with your late gracious promises. " [85]
Sawyer would have been instantly dismissed as Finch had been, if the
government could have found a successor: but this was no easy matter. It
was necessary for the protection of the rights of the crown that one
at least of the crown lawyers should be a man of learning, ability, and
experience; and no such man was willing to defend the dispensing power.
The Attorney General was therefore permitted to retain his place
during some months. Thomas Powis, an insignificant man, who had no
qualification for high employment except servility, was appointed
Solicitor.
The preliminary arrangements were now complete. There was a Solicitor
General to argue for the dispensing power, and twelve Judges to decide
in favour of it. The question was therefore speedily brought to a
hearing. Sir Edward Hales, a gentleman of Kent, had been converted
to Popery in days when it was not safe for any man of note openly to
declare himself a Papist. He had kept his secret, and, when questioned,
had affirmed that he was a Protestant with a solemnity which did little
credit to his principles. When James had ascended the throne, disguise
was no longer necessary. Sir Edward publicly apostatized, and was
rewarded with the command of a regiment of foot. He had held his
commission more than three months without taking the sacrament. He was
therefore liable to a penalty of five hundred pounds, which an informer
might recover by action of debt. A menial servant was employed to bring
a suit for this sum in the Court of King's Bench. Sir Edward did not
dispute the facts alleged against him, but pleaded that he had letters
patent authorising him to hold his commission notwithstanding the Test
Act. The plaintiff demurred, that is to say, admitted Sir Edward's plea
to be true in fact, but denied that it was a sufficient answer. Thus was
raised a simple issue of law to be decided by the court. A barrister,
who was notoriously a tool of the government, appeared for the mock
plaintiff, and made some feeble objections to the defendant's plea. The
new Solicitor General replied. The Attorney General took no part in the
proceedings. Judgment was given by the Lord Chief Justice, Sir Edward
Herbert. He announced that he had submitted the question to all the
twelve Judges, and that, in the opinion of eleven of them, the King
might lawfully dispense with penal statutes in particular cases, and
for special reasons of grave importance. The single dissentient, Baron
Street, was not removed from his place. He was a man of morals so bad
that his own relations shrank from him, and that the Prince of Orange,
at the time of the Revolution, was advised not to see him. The character
of Street makes it impossible to believe that he would have been more
scrupulous than his brethren. The character of James makes it impossible
to believe that a refractory Baron of the Exchequer would have been
permitted to retain his post. There can be no reasonable doubt that the
dissenting Judge was, like the plaintiff and the plaintiff's counsel,
acting collusively. It was important that there should be a great
preponderance of authority in favour of the dispensing power; yet it
was important that the bench, which had been carefully packed for the
occasion, should appear to be independent. One Judge, therefore,
the least respectable of the twelve, was permitted, or more probably
commanded, to give his voice against the prerogative. [86]
The power which the courts of law had thus recognised was not suffered
to lie idle. Within a month after the decision of the King's Bench
had been pronounced, four Roman Catholic Lords were sworn of the Privy
Council. Two of these, Powis and Bellasyse, were of the moderate
party, and probably took their seats with reluctance and with many sad
forebodings. The other two, Arundell and Dover, had no such misgivings.
[87]
The dispensing power was, at the same time, employed for the purpose
of enabling Roman Catholics to hold ecclesiastical preferment. The new
Solicitor readily drew the warrants in which Sawyer had refused to be
concerned. One of these warrants was in favour of a wretch named Edward
Sclater, who had two livings which he was determined to keep at all
costs and through all changes. He administered the sacrament to his
parishioners according to the rites of the Church of England on Palm
Sunday 1686. On Easter Sunday, only seven days later, he was at mass.
The royal dispensation authorised him to retain the emoluments of his
benefices. To the remonstrances of the patrons from whom he had received
his preferment he replied in terms of insolent defiance, and, while the
Roman Catholic cause prospered, put forth an absurd treatise in defence
of his apostasy. But, a very few weeks after the Revolution, a great
congregation assembled at Saint Mary's in the Savoy, to see him received
again into the bosom of the Church which he had deserted. He read his
recantation with tears flowing from his eyes, and pronounced a bitter
invective against the Popish priests whose arts had seduced him. [88]
Scarcely less infamous was the conduct of Obadiah Walker. He was an aged
priest of the Church of England, and was well known in the University of
Oxford as a man of learning. He had in the late reign been suspected of
leaning towards Popery, but had outwardly conformed to the established
religion, and had at length been chosen Master of University College.
Soon after the accession of James, Walker determined to throw off the
disguise which he had hitherto worn. He absented himself from the
public worship of the Church of England, and, with some fellows and
undergraduates whom he had perverted, heard mass daily in his own
apartments. One of the first acts performed by the new Solicitor General
was to draw up an instrument which authorised Walker and his proselytes
to hold their benefices, notwithstanding their apostasy. Builders were
immediately employed to turn two sets of rooms into an oratory. In a
few weeks the Roman Catholic rites were publicly performed in University
College. A Jesuit was quartered there as chaplain. A press was
established there under royal license for the printing of Roman Catholic
tracts. During two years and a half, Walker continued to make war on
Protestantism with all the rancour of a renegade: but when fortune
turned he showed that he wanted the courage of a martyr. He was brought
to the bar of the House of Commons to answer for his conduct, and was
base enough to protest that he had never changed his religion, that he
had never cordially approved of the doctrines of the Church of Rome,
and that he had never tried to bring any other person within the pale
of that Church. It was hardly worth while to violate the most sacred
obligations of law and of plighted faith, for the purpose of making such
converts as these. [89]
In a short time the King went a step further. Sclater and Walker had
only been permitted to keep, after they became Papists, the preferment
which had been bestowed on them while they passed for Protestants. To
confer a high office in the Established Church on an avowed enemy of
that Church was a far bolder violation of the laws and of the royal
word. But no course was too bold for James. The Deanery of Christchurch
became vacant. That office was, both in dignity and in emolument, one of
the highest in the University of Oxford. The Dean was charged with the
government of a greater number of youths of high connections and of
great hopes than could then be found in any other college. He was also
the head of a Cathedral. In both characters it was necessary that he
should be a member of the Church of England. Nevertheless John Massey,
who was notoriously a member of the Church of Rome, and who had not
one single recommendation, except that he was a member of the Church of
Rome, was appointed by virtue of the dispensing power; and soon within
the walls of Christchurch an altar was decked, at which mass was daily
celebrated. [90] To the Nuncio the King said that what had been done at
Oxford should very soon be done at Cambridge. [91]
Yet even this was a small evil compared with that which Protestants
had good ground to apprehend. It seemed but too probable that the whole
government of the Anglican Church would shortly pass into the hands of
her deadly enemies. Three important sees had lately become vacant, that
of York, that of Chester, and that of Oxford. The Bishopric of Oxford
was given to Samuel Parker, a parasite, whose religion, if he had any
religion, was that of Rome, and who called himself a Protestant only
because he was encumbered with a wife. "I wished," the King said to
Adda, "to appoint an avowed Catholic: but the time is not come. Parker
is well inclined to us; he is one of us in feeling; and by degrees he
will bring round his clergy. " [92] The Bishopric of Chester, vacant by the
death of John Pearson, a great name both in philology and in divinity,
was bestowed on Thomas Cartwright, a still viler sycophant than Parker.
The Archbishopric of York remained several years vacant. As no good
reason could be found for leaving so important a place unfilled, men
suspected that the nomination was delayed only till the King could
venture to place the mitre on the head of an avowed Papist. It is indeed
highly probable that the Church of England was saved from this outrage
by the good sense and good feeling of the Pope. Without a special
dispensation from Rome no Jesuit could be a Bishop; and Innocent could
not be induced to grant such a dispensation to Petre.
James did not even make any secret of his intention to exert vigorously
and systematically for the destruction of the Established Church all the
powers which he possessed as her head. He plainly said that, by a wise
dispensation of Providence, the Act of Supremacy would be the means of
healing the fatal breach which it had caused. Henry and Elizabeth had
usurped a dominion which rightfully belonged to the Holy See. That
dominion had, in the course of succession, descended to an orthodox
prince, and would be held by him in trust for the Holy See. He was
authorised by law to repress spiritual abuses; and the first spiritual
abuse which he would repress should be the liberty which the Anglican
clergy assumed of defending their own religion and of attacking the
doctrines of Rome. [93]
But he was met by a great difficulty. The ecclesiastical supremacy
which had devolved on him, was by no means the same great and terrible
prerogative which Elizabeth, James the First, and Charles the First had
possessed. The enactment which annexed to the crown an almost boundless
visitatorial authority over the Church, though it had never been
formally repealed, had really lost a great part of its force. The
substantive law remained; but it remained unaccompanied by any
formidable sanction or by any efficient system of procedure, and was
therefore little more than a dead letter.
The statute, which restored to Elizabeth the spiritual dominion assumed
by her father and resigned by her sister, contained a clause authorising
the sovereign to constitute a tribunal which might investigate, reform,
and punish all ecclesiastical delinquencies. Under the authority given
by this clause, the Court of High Commission was created. That court
was, during many years, the terror of Nonconformists, and, under the
harsh administration of Laud, became an object of fear and hatred even
to those who most loved the Established Church. When the Long Parliament
met, the High Commission was generally regarded as the most grievous
of the many grievances under which the nation laboured. An act was
therefore somewhat hastily passed, which not only took away from the
Crown the power of appointing visitors to superintend the Church, but
abolished all ecclesiastical courts without distinction.
After the Restoration, the Cavaliers who filled the House of Commons,
zealous as they were for the prerogative, still remembered with
bitterness the tyranny of the High Commission, and were by no means
disposed to revive an institution so odious. They at the same time
thought, and not without reason, that the statute which had swept away
all the courts Christian of the realm, without providing any substitute,
was open to grave objection. They accordingly repealed that statute,
with the exception of the part which related to the High Commission.
Thus, the Archidiaconal Courts, the Consistory Courts, the Court of
Arches, the Court of Peculiars, and the Court of Delegates were revived:
but the enactment by which Elizabeth and her successors had been
empowered to appoint Commissioners with visitatorial authority over
the Church was not only not revived, but was declared, with the utmost
strength of language, to be completely abrogated. It is therefore as
clear as any point of constitutional law can be that James the Second
was not competent to appoint a Commission with power to visit and govern
the Church of England. [94] But, if this were so, it was to little
purpose that the Act of Supremacy, in high sounding words, empowered
him to amend what was amiss in that Church. Nothing but a machinery as
stringent as that which the Long Parliament had destroyed could force
the Anglican clergy to become his agents for the destruction of the
Anglican doctrine and discipline. He therefore, as early as the month
of April 1686, determined to create a new Court of High Commission. This
design was not immediately executed. It encountered the opposition of
every minister who was not devoted to France and to the Jesuits. It
was regarded by lawyers as an outrageous violation of the law, and by
Churchmen as a direct attack upon the Church. Perhaps the contest
might have lasted longer, but for an event which wounded the pride and
inflamed the rage of the King. He had, as supreme ordinary, put forth
directions, charging the clergy of the establishment to abstain from
touching in their discourses on controverted points of doctrine. Thus,
while sermons in defence of the Roman Catholic religion were preached on
every Sunday and holiday within the precincts of the royal palaces, the
Church of the state, the Church of the great majority of the nation, was
forbidden to explain and vindicate her own principles. The spirit of the
whole clerical order rose against this injustice. William Sherlock,
a divine of distinguished abilities, who had written with sharpness
against Whigs and Dissenters, and had been rewarded by the government
with the Mastership of the Temple and with a pension, was one of the
first who incurred the royal displeasure. His pension was stopped, and
he was severely reprimanded. [95] John Sharp, Dean of Norwich and Rector
of St. Giles's in the Fields, soon gave still greater offence. He was
a man of learning and fervent piety, a preacher of great fame, and an
exemplary parish priest. In politics he was, like most of his brethren,
a Tory, and had just been appointed one of the royal chaplains. He
received an anonymous letter which purported to come from one of his
parishioners who had been staggered by the arguments of Roman Catholic
theologians, and who was anxious to be satisfied that the Church of
England was a branch of the true Church of Christ. No divine, not
utterly lost to all sense of religious duty and of professional honour,
could refuse to answer such a call. On the following Sunday Sharp
delivered an animated discourse against the high pretensions of the
see of Rome. Some of his expressions were exaggerated, distorted, and
carried by talebearers to Whitehall. It was falsely said that he had
spoken with contumely of the theological disquisitions which had been
found in the strong box of the late King, and which the present King
had published. Compton, the Bishop of London, received orders from
Sunderland to suspend Sharp till the royal pleasure should be further
known. The Bishop was in great perplexity. His recent conduct in the
House of Lords had given deep offence to the court. Already his name had
been struck out of the list of Privy Councillors. Already he had been
dismissed from his office in the royal chapel. He was unwilling to give
fresh provocation but the act which he was directed to perform was a
judicial act. He felt that it was unjust, and he was assured by the best
advisers that it was also illegal, to inflict punishment without giving
any opportunity for defence. He accordingly, in the humblest terms,
represented his difficulties to the King, and privately requested
Sharp not to appear in the pulpit for the present. Reasonable as were
Compton's scruples, obsequious as were his apologies, James was greatly
incensed. What insolence to plead either natural justice or positive
law in opposition to an express command of the Sovereign Sharp was
forgotten. The Bishop became a mark for the whole vengeance of the
government. [96] The King felt more painfully than ever the want of that
tremendous engine which had once coerced refractory ecclesiastics. He
probably knew that, for a few angry words uttered against his father's
government, Bishop Williams had been suspended by the High Commission
from all ecclesiastical dignities and functions. The design of reviving
that formidable tribunal was pushed on more eagerly than ever. In July
London was alarmed by the news that the King had, in direct defiance of
two acts of Parliament drawn in the strongest terms, entrusted the whole
government of the Church to seven Commissioners. [97] The words in which
the jurisdiction of these officers was described were loose, and might
be stretched to almost any extent. All colleges and grammar schools,
even those founded by the liberality of private benefactors, were placed
under the authority of the new board. All who depended for bread on
situations in the Church or in academical institutions, from the Primate
down to the youngest curate, from the Vicechancellors of Oxford and
Cambridge down to the humblest pedagogue who taught Corderius, were at
the royal mercy. If any one of those many thousands was suspected
of doing or saying anything distasteful to the government, the
Commissioners might cite him before them.
In their mode of dealing
with him they were fettered by no rules. They were themselves at once
prosecutors and judges. The accused party was furnished with no copy of
the charge. He was examined and crossexamined. If his answers did not
give satisfaction, he was liable to be suspended from his office, to be
ejected from it, to be pronounced incapable of holding any preferment
in future. If he were contumacious, he might be excommunicated, or, in
other words, be deprived of all civil rights and imprisoned for life. He
might also, at the discretion of the court, be loaded with all the costs
of the proceeding by which he had been reduced to beggary. No appeal
was given. The Commissioners were directed to execute their office
notwithstanding any law which might be, or might seem to be,
inconsistent with these regulations. Lastly, lest any person should
doubt that it was intended to revive that terrible court from which the
Long Parliament had freed the nation, the new tribunal was directed to
use a seal bearing exactly the same device and the same superscription
with the seal of the old High Commission. [98]
The chief Commissioner was the Chancellor. His presence and assent were
necessary to every proceeding. All men knew how unjustly, insolently,
and barbarously he had acted in courts where he had been, to a certain
extent, restrained by the known laws of England. It was, therefore,
not difficult to foresee how he would conduct himself in a situation in
which he was at entire liberty to make forms of procedure and rules of
evidence for himself.
Of the other six Commissioners three were prelates and three laymen. The
name of Archbishop Sancroft stood first. But he was fully convinced that
the court was illegal, that all its judgments would be null, and that
by sitting in it he should incur a serious responsibility. He therefore
determined not to comply with the royal mandate. He did not, however,
act on this occasion with that courage and sincerity which he showed
when driven to extremity two years later. He begged to be excused on
the plea of business and ill health. The other members of the board,
he added, were men of too much ability to need his assistance. These
disingenuous apologies ill became the Primate of all England at such a
crisis; nor did they avert the royal displeasure. Sancroft's name was
not indeed struck out of the list of Privy Councillors: but, to the
bitter mortification of the friends of the Church, he was no longer
summoned on Council days. "If," said the King, "he is too sick or too
busy to go to the Commission, it is a kindness to relieve him from
attendance at Council. " [99]
The government found no similar difficulty with Nathaniel Crewe, Bishop
of the great and opulent see of Durham, a man nobly born, and raised so
high in his profession that he could scarcely wish to rise higher, but
mean, vain, and cowardly. He had been made Dean of the Chapel Royal when
the Bishop of London was banished from the palace. The honour of being
an Ecclesiastical Commissioner turned Crewe's head. It was to no purpose
that some of his friends represented to him the risk which he ran by
sitting in an illegal tribunal. He was not ashamed to answer that he
could not live out of the royal smile, and exultingly expressed his
hope that his name would appear in history, a hope which has not been
altogether disappointed. [100]
Thomas Sprat, Bishop of Rochester, was the third clerical Commissioner.
He was a man to whose talents posterity has scarcely done justice.
Unhappily for his fame, it has been usual to print his verses in
collections of the British poets; and those who judge of him by his
verses must consider him as a servile imitator, who, without one spark
of Cowley's admirable genius, mimicked whatever was least commendable
in Cowley's manner: but those who are acquainted with Sprat's prose
writings will form a very different estimate of his powers. He was
indeed a great master of our language, and possessed at once the
eloquence of the orator, of the controversialist, and of the historian.
His moral character might have passed with little censure had he
belonged to a less sacred profession; for the worst that can be said of
him is that he was indolent, luxurious, and worldly: but such failings,
though not commonly regarded as very heinous in men of secular callings,
are scandalous in a prelate. The Archbishopric of York was vacant; Sprat
hoped to obtain it, and therefore accepted a seat at the ecclesiastical
board: but he was too goodnatured a man to behave harshly; and he was
too sensible a man not to know that he might at some future time be
called to a serious account by a Parliament. He therefore, though he
consented to act, tried to do as little mischief, and to make as few
enemies, as possible. [101]
The three remaining Commissioners were the Lord Treasurer, the Lord
President, and the Chief Justice of the King's Bench. Rochester,
disapproving and murmuring, consented to serve. Much as he had to endure
at the court, he could not bear to quit it. Much as he loved the Church,
he could not bring himself to sacrifice for her sake his white staff,
his patronage, his salary of eight thousand pounds a year, and the far
larger indirect emoluments of his office. He excused his conduct to
others, and perhaps to himself, by pleading that, as a Commissioner, he
might be able to prevent much evil, and that, if he refused to act,
some person less attached to the Protestant religion would be found to
replace him. Sunderland was the representative of the Jesuitical cabal.
Herbert's recent decision on the question of the dispensing power seemed
to prove that he would not flinch from any service which the King might
require.
As soon as the Commission had been opened, the Bishop of London was
cited before the new tribunal. He appeared. "I demand of you," said
Jeffreys, "a direct and positive answer. Why did not you suspend Dr.
Sharp? "
The Bishop requested a copy of the Commission in order that he might
know by what authority he was thus interrogated. "If you mean," said
Jeffreys, "to dispute our authority, I shall take another course with
you. As to the Commission, I do not doubt that you have seen it. At all
events you may see it in any coffeehouse for a penny. " The insolence of
the Chancellor's reply appears to have shocked the other Commissioners,
and he was forced to make some awkward apologies. He then returned to
the point from which he had started. "This," he said, "is not a court in
which written charges are exhibited. Our proceedings are summary, and
by word of mouth. The question is a plain one. Why did you not obey
the King? " With some difficulty Compton obtained a brief delay, and the
assistance of counsel. When the case had been heard, it was evident
to all men that the Bishop had done only what he was bound to do. The
Treasurer, the Chief Justice, and Sprat were for acquittal. The King's
wrath was moved. It seemed that his Ecclesiastical Commission would fail
him as his Tory Parliament had failed him. He offered Rochester a
simple choice, to pronounce the Bishop guilty, or to quit the Treasury.
Rochester was base enough to yield. Compton was suspended from all
spiritual functions; and the charge of his great diocese was committed
to his judges, Sprat and Crewe. He continued, however, to reside in
his palace and to receive his revenues; for it was known that, had any
attempt been made to deprive him of his temporalities, he would have
put himself under the protection of the common law; and Herbert himself
declared that, at common law, judgment must be given against the crown.
This consideration induced the King to pause. Only a few weeks had
elapsed since he had packed the courts of Westminster Hall in order to
obtain a decision in favour of his dispensing power. He now found that,
unless he packed them again, he should not be able to obtain a decision
in favour of the proceedings of his Ecclesiastical Commission. He
determined, therefore, to postpone for a short time the confiscation of
the freehold property of refractory clergymen. [102]
The temper of the nation was indeed such as might well make him
hesitate. During some months discontent had been steadily and rapidly
increasing. The celebration of the Roman Catholic worship had long been
prohibited by Act of Parliament. During several generations no Roman
Catholic clergyman had dared to exhibit himself in any public place with
the badges of his office. Against the regular clergy, and against the
restless and subtle Jesuits by name, had been enacted a succession of
rigorous statutes. Every Jesuit who set foot in this country was
liable to be hanged, drawn, and quartered. A reward was offered for his
detection. He was not allowed to take advantage of the general rule,
that men are not bound to accuse themselves. Whoever was suspected of
being a Jesuit might be interrogated, and, if he refused to answer,
might be sent to prison for life. [103] These laws, though they had not,
except when there was supposed to be some peculiar danger, been strictly
executed, and though they had never prevented Jesuits from resorting to
England, had made disguise necessary. But all disguise was now thrown
off. Injudicious members of the King's Church, encouraged by him, took
a pride in defying statutes which were still of undoubted validity,
and feelings which had a stronger hold of the national mind than at any
former period. Roman Catholic chapels rose all over the country. Cowls,
girdles of ropes, and strings of beads constantly appeared in the
streets, and astonished a population, the oldest of whom had never seen
a conventual garb except on the stage. A convent rose at Clerkenwell on
the site of the ancient cloister of Saint John. The Franciscans occupied
a mansion in Lincoln's Inn Fields. The Carmelites were quartered in the
City. A society of Benedictine monks was lodged in Saint James's Palace.
In the Savoy a spacious house, including a church and a school, was
built for the Jesuits. [104] The skill and care with which those fathers
had, during several generations, conducted the education of youth, had
drawn forth reluctant praises from the wisest Protestants. Bacon had
pronounced the mode of instruction followed in the Jesuit colleges to
be the best yet known in the world, and had warmly expressed his regret
that so admirable a system of intellectual and moral discipline should
be subservient to the interests of a corrupt religion. [105] It was
not improbable that the new academy in the Savoy might, under royal
patronage, prove a formidable rival to the great foundations of Eton,
Westminster, and Winchester. Indeed, soon after the school was opened,
the classes consisted of four hundred boys, about one half of whom were
Protestants. The Protestant pupils were not required to attend mass: but
there could be no doubt that the influence of able preceptors, devoted
to the Roman Catholic Church, and versed in all the arts which win the
confidence and affection of youth, would make many converts.
These things produced great excitement among the populace, which is
always more moved by what impresses the senses than by what is
addressed to the reason. Thousands of rude and ignorant men, to whom the
dispensing power and the Ecclesiastical Commission were words without a
meaning, saw with dismay and indignation a Jesuit college rising on the
banks of the Thames, friars in hoods and gowns walking in the Strand,
and crowds of devotees pressing in at the doors of temples where homage
was paid to graven images. Riots broke out in several parts of the
country. At Coventry and Worcester the Roman Catholic worship was
violently interrupted. [106] At Bristol the rabble, countenanced, it was
said, by the magistrates, exhibited a profane and indecent pageant, in
which the Virgin Mary was represented by a buffoon, and in which a mock
host was carried in procession. The garrison was called out to disperse
the mob. The mob, then and ever since one of the fiercest in the
kingdom, resisted. Blows were exchanged, and serious hurts inflicted.
[107] The agitation was great in the capital, and greater in the City,
properly so called, than at Westminster. For the people of Westminster
had been accustomed to see among them the private chapels of Roman
Catholic Ambassadors: but the City had not, within living memory, been
polluted by any idolatrous exhibition. Now, however, the resident of
the Elector Palatine, encouraged by the King, fitted up a chapel in Lime
Street. The heads of the corporation, though men selected for office
on account of their known Toryism, protested against this proceeding,
which, as they said, the ablest gentlemen of the long robe regarded as
illegal. The Lord Mayor was ordered to appear before the Privy Council.
"Take heed what you do," said the King. "Obey me; and do not trouble
yourself either about gentlemen of the long robe or gentlemen of the
short robe. " The Chancellor took up the word, and reprimanded the
unfortunate magistrate with the genuine eloquence of the Old Bailey
bar. The chapel was opened. All the neighbourhood was soon in commotion.
Great crowds assembled in Cheapside to attack the new mass house. The
priests were insulted. A crucifix was taken out of the building and set
up on the parish pump. The Lord Mayor came to quell the tumult, but was
received with cries of "No wooden gods. " The trainbands were ordered to
disperse the crowd: but they shared in the popular feeling; and murmurs
were heard from the ranks, "We cannot in conscience fight for Popery. "
[108]
The Elector Palatine was, like James, a sincere and zealous Catholic,
and was, like James, the ruler of a Protestant people; but the two
princes resembled each other little in temper and understanding. The
Elector had promised to respect the rights of the Church which he found
established in his dominions. He had strictly kept his word, and had not
suffered himself to be provoked to any violence by the indiscretion of
preachers who, in their antipathy to his faith, occasionally forgot the
respect which they owed to his person. [109] He learned, with concern,
that great offence had been given to the people of London by the
injudicious act of his representative, and, much to his honour, declared
that he would forego the privilege to which, as a sovereign prince, he
was entitled, rather than endanger the peace of a great city. "I, too,"
he wrote to James, "have Protestant subjects; and I know with how much
caution and delicacy it is necessary that a Catholic prince so situated
should act. " James, instead of expressing gratitude for this humane and
considerate conduct, turned the letter into ridicule before the foreign
ministers. It was determined that the Elector should have a chapel in
the City whether he would or not, and that, if the trainbands refused to
do their duty, their place should be supplied by the Guards. [110]
The effect of these disturbances on trade was serious. The Dutch
minister informed the States General that the business of the Exchange
was at a stand. The Commissioners of the Customs reported to the King
that, during the month which followed the opening of Lime Street Chapel,
the receipt in the port of the Thames had fallen off by some thousands
of pounds. [111] Several Aldermen, who, though zealous royalists
appointed under the new charter, were deeply interested in the
commercial prosperity of their city, and loved neither Popery nor
martial law, tendered their resignations. But the King was resolved
not to yield. He formed a camp on Hounslow Heath, and collected
there, within a circumference of about two miles and a half, fourteen
battalions of foot and thirty-two squadrons of horse, amounting to
thirteen thousand fighting men. Twenty-six pieces of artillery, and
many wains laden with arms and ammunition, were dragged from the Tower
through the City to Hounslow. [112] The Londoners saw this great force
assembled in their neighbourhood with a terror which familiarity soon
diminished. A visit to Hounslow became their favourite amusement on
holidays. The camp presented the appearance of a vast fair. Mingled with
the musketeers and dragoons, a multitude of fine gentlemen and ladies
from Soho Square, sharpers and painted women from Whitefriars, invalids
in sedans, monks in hoods and gowns, lacqueys in rich liveries, pedlars,
orange girls, mischievous apprentices and gaping clowns, was constantly
passing and repassing through the long lanes of tents. From some
pavilions were heard the noises of drunken revelry, from others the
curses of gamblers. In truth the place was merely a gay suburb of the
capital. The King, as was amply proved two years later, had greatly
miscalculated. He had forgotten that vicinity operates in more ways than
one. He had hoped that his army would overawe London: but the result of
his policy was that the feelings and opinions of London took complete
possession of his army. [113]
Scarcely indeed had the encampment been formed when there were rumours
of quarrels between the Protestant and Popish soldiers. [114] A little
tract, entitled A humble and hearty Address to all English Protestants
in the Army, had been actively circulated through the ranks. The writer
vehemently exhorted the troops to use their arms in defence, not of the
mass book, but of the Bible, of the Great Charter, and of the Petition
of Right. He was a man already under the frown of power. His character
was remarkable, and his history not uninstructive.
His name was Samuel Johnson. He was a priest of the Church of England,
and had been chaplain to Lord Russell. Johnson was one of those persons
who are mortally hated by their opponents, and less loved than respected
by their allies. His morals were pure, his religious feelings ardent,
his learning and abilities not contemptible, his judgment weak,
his temper acrimonious, turbulent, and unconquerably stubborn. His
profession made him peculiarly odious to the zealous supporters of
monarchy; for a republican in holy orders was a strange and almost an
unnatural being. During the late reign Johnson had published a book
entitled Julian the Apostate. The object of this work was to show
that the Christians of the fourth century did not hold the doctrine
of nonresistance. It was easy to produce passages from Chrysostom and
Jerome written in a spirit very different from that of the Anglican
divines who preached against the Exclusion Bill. Johnson, however, went
further. He attempted to revive the odious imputation which had, for
very obvious reasons, been thrown by Libanius on the Christian soldiers
of Julian, and insinuated that the dart which slew the imperial renegade
came, not from the enemy, but from some Rumbold or Ferguson in the Roman
ranks. A hot controversy followed. Whig and Tory disputants wrangled
fiercely about an obscure passage, in which Gregory of Nazianzus praises
a pious Bishop who was going to bastinado somebody. The Whigs maintained
that the holy man was going to bastinado the Emperor; the Tories that,
at the worst, he was only going to bastinado a captain of the guard.
Johnson prepared a reply to his assailants, in which he drew an
elaborate parallel between Julian and James, then Duke of York, Julian
had, during many years, pretended to abhor idolatry, while in heart an
idolater. Julian had, to serve a turn, occasionally affected respect for
the rights of conscience. Julian had punished cities which were zealous
for the true religion, by taking away their municipal privileges. Julian
had, by his flatterers, been called the Just. James was provoked beyond
endurance. Johnson was prosecuted for a libel, convicted, and condemned
to a fine which he had no means of paying. He was therefore kept in
gaol; and it seemed likely that his confinement would end only with his
life. [115]
Over the room which he occupied in the King's Bench prison lodged
another offender whose character well deserves to be studied. This was
Hugh Speke, a young man of good family, but of a singularly base and
depraved nature. His love of mischief and of dark and crooked ways
amounted almost to madness. To cause confusion without being found
out was his business and his pastime; and he had a rare skill in using
honest enthusiasts as the instruments of his coldblooded malice. He
had attempted, by means of one of his puppets, to fasten on Charles and
James the crime of murdering Essex in the Tower. On this occasion the
agency of Speke had been traced and, though he succeeded in throwing the
greater part of the blame on his dupe, he had not escaped with impunity.
He was now a prisoner; but his fortune enabled him to live with comfort;
and he was under so little restraint that he was able to keep up regular
communication with one of his confederates who managed a secret press.
Johnson was the very man for Speke's purposes, zealous and intrepid, a
scholar and a practised controversialist, yet as simple as a child. A
close intimacy sprang up between the two fellow prisoners. Johnson wrote
a succession of bitter and vehement treatises which Speke conveyed to
the printer. When the camp was formed at Hounslow, Speke urged Johnson
to compose an address which might excite the troops to mutiny. The paper
was instantly drawn up. Many thousands of copies were struck off and
brought to Speke's room, whence they were distributed over the whole
country, and especially among the soldiers. A milder government than
that which then ruled England would have been moved to high resentment
by such a provocation. Strict search was made. A subordinate agent who
had been employed to circulate the address saved himself by giving up
Johnson; and Johnson was not the man to save himself by giving up Speke.
An information was filed, and a conviction obtained without difficulty.
Julian Johnson, as he was popularly called, was sentenced to stand
thrice in the pillory, and to be whipped from Newgate to Tyburn. The
Judge, Sir Francis Withins, told the criminal to be thankful for the
great lenity of the Attorney General, who might have treated the case
as one of high treason. "I owe him no thanks," answered Johnson,
dauntlessly. "Am I, whose only crime is that I have defended the Church
and the laws, to be grateful for being scourged like a dog, while Popish
scribblers are suffered daily to insult the Church and to violate the
laws with impunity? " The energy with which he spoke was such that both
the Judges and the crown lawyers thought it necessary to vindicate
themselves, and protested that they knew of no Popish publications
such as those to which the prisoner alluded. He instantly drew from his
pocket some Roman Catholic books and trinkets which were then freely
exposed for sale under the royal patronage, read aloud the titles of the
books, and threw a rosary across the table to the King's counsel. "And
now," he cried with a loud voice, "I lay this information before God,
before this court, and before the English people. We shall soon see
whether Mr. Attorney will do his duty. "
It was resolved that, before the punishment was inflicted, Johnson
should be degraded from the priesthood. The prelates who had been
charged by the Ecclesiastical Commission with the care of the diocese
of London cited him before them in the chapter house of Saint Paul's
Cathedral. The manner in which he went through the ceremony made a deep
impression on many minds. When he was stripped of his sacred robe he
exclaimed, "You are taking away my gown because I have tried to keep
your gowns on your backs. " The only part of the formalities which seemed
to distress him was the plucking of the Bible out of his hand. He made
a faint struggle to retain the sacred book, kissed it, and burst into
tears. "You cannot," he said, "deprive me of the hopes which I owe to
it. " Some attempts were made to obtain a remission of the flogging. A
Roman Catholic priest offered to intercede in consideration of a bribe
of two hundred pounds.
such a proceeding was without example, that the book was written in a
foreign tongue, that it had been printed at a foreign press, that it
related entirely to transactions which had taken place in a foreign
country, and that no English government had ever animadverted on
such works. James would not suffer the question to be discussed. "My
resolution," he said, "is taken. It has become the fashion to treat
Kings disrespectfully; and they must stand by each other. One King
should always take another's part: and I have particular reasons for
showing this respect to the King of France. " There was silence at
the board. The order was forthwith issued; and Claude's pamphlet was
committed to the flames, not without the deep murmurs of many who had
always been reputed steady loyalists. [74]
The promised collection was long put off under various pretexts. The
King would gladly have broken his word; but it was pledged so solemnly
that he could not for very shame retract. [75] Nothing, however, which
could cool the zeal of congregations was omitted. It had been expected
that, according to the practice usual on such occasions, the people
would be exhorted to liberality from the pulpits. But James was
determined not to tolerate declamations against his religion and his
ally. The Archbishop of Canterbury was therefore commanded to inform
the clergy that they must merely read the brief, and must not presume
to preach on the sufferings of the French Protestants. [76] Nevertheless
the contributions were so large that, after all deductions, the sum of
forty thousand pounds was paid into the Chamber of London. Perhaps none
of the munificent subscriptions of our own age has borne so great a
proportion to the means of the nation. [77]
The King was bitterly mortified by the large amount of the collection
which had been made in obedience to his own call. He knew, he said, what
all this liberality meant. It was mere Whiggish spite to himself and his
religion. [78] He had already resolved that the money should be of no
use to those whom the donors wished to benefit. He had been, during some
weeks, in close communication with the French embassy on this subject,
and had, with the approbation of the court of Versailles, determined on
a course which it is not very easy to reconcile with those principles of
toleration to which he afterwards pretended to be attached. The refugees
were zealous for the Calvinistic discipline and worship. James therefore
gave orders that none should receive a crust of bread or a basket of
coals who did not first take the sacrament according to the Anglican
ritual. [79] It is strange that this inhospitable rule should have been
devised by a prince who affected to consider the Test Act as an outrage
on the rights of conscience: for, however unjustifiable it may be to
establish a sacramental test for the purpose of ascertaining whether
men are fit for civil and military office, it is surely much more
unjustifiable to establish a sacramental test for the purpose of
ascertaining whether, in their extreme distress, they are fit objects of
charity. Nor had James the plea which may be urged in extenuation of
the guilt of almost all other persecutors: for the religion which he
commanded the refugees to profess, on pain of being left to starve,
was not his own religion. His conduct towards them was therefore less
excusable than that of Lewis: for Lewis oppressed them in the hope of
bringing them over from a damnable heresy to the true Church: James
oppressed them only for the purpose of forcing them to apostatize from
one damnable heresy to another.
Several Commissioners, of whom the Chancellor was one, had been
appointed to dispense the public alms. When they met for the first time,
Jeffreys announced the royal pleasure. The refugees, he said, were too
generally enemies of monarchy and episcopacy. If they wished for relief,
they must become members of the Church of England, and must take the
sacrament from the hands of his chaplain. Many exiles, who had come full
of gratitude and hope to apply for succour, heard their sentence, and
went brokenhearted away. [80]
May was now approaching; and that month had been fixed for the meeting
of the Houses: but they were again prorogued to November. [81] It
was not strange that the King did not wish to meet them: for he had
determined to adopt a policy which he knew to be, in the highest degree,
odious to them. From his predecessors he had inherited two prerogatives,
of which the limits had never been defined with strict accuracy, and
which, if exerted without any limit, would of themselves have sufficed
to overturn the whole polity of the State and of the Church. These were
the dispensing power and the ecclesiastical supremacy. By means of the
dispensing power the King purposed to admit Roman Catholics, not merely
to civil and military, but to spiritual, offices. By means of the
ecclesiastical supremacy he hoped to make the Anglican clergy his
instruments for the destruction of their own religion.
This scheme developed itself by degrees. It was not thought safe to
begin by granting to the whole Roman Catholic body a dispensation from
all statutes imposing penalties and tests. For nothing was more fully
established than that such a dispensation was illegal. The Cabal had,
in 1672, put forth a general Declaration of Indulgence. The Commons,
as soon as they met, had protested against it. Charles the Second had
ordered it to be cancelled in his presence, and had, both by his own
mouth and by a written message, assured the Houses that the step which
had caused so much complaint should never be drawn into precedent. It
would have been difficult to find in all the Inns of Court a barrister
of reputation to argue in defence of a prerogative which the Sovereign,
seated on his throne in full Parliament, had solemnly renounced a few
years before. But it was not quite so clear that the King might not,
on special grounds, grant exemptions to individuals by name. The first
object of James, therefore, was to obtain from the courts of common
law an acknowledgment that, to this extent at least, he possessed the
dispensing power.
But, though his pretensions were moderate when compared with those which
he put forth a few months later, he soon found that he had against him
almost the whole sense of Westminster Hall. Four of the Judges gave him
to understand that they could not, on this occasion, serve his purpose;
and it is remarkable that all the four were violent Tories, and that
among them were men who had accompanied Jeffreys on the Bloody Circuit,
and who had consented to the death of Cornish and of Elizabeth Gaunt.
Jones, the Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, a man who had never before
shrunk from any drudgery, however cruel or servile, now held in the
royal closet language which might have become the lips of the purest
magistrates in our history. He was plainly told that he must either
give up his opinion or his place. "For my place," he answered, "I care
little. I am old and worn out in the service of the crown; but I am
mortified to find that your Majesty thinks me capable of giving a
judgment which none but an ignorant or a dishonest man could give. " "I
am determined," said the King, "to have twelve Judges who will be all
of my mind as to this matter. " "Your Majesty," answered Jones, "may
find twelve Judges of your mind, but hardly twelve lawyers. " [82] He was
dismissed together with Montague, Chief Baron of the Exchequer, and
two puisne Judges, Neville and Charlton. One of the new Judges was
Christopher Milton, younger brother of the great poet. Of Christopher
little is known except that, in the time of the civil war, he had been
a Royalist, and that he now, in his old age, leaned towards Popery. It
does not appear that he was ever formally reconciled to the Church of
Rome: but he certainly had scruples about communicating with the Church
of England, and had therefore a strong interest in supporting the
dispensing power. [83]
The King found his counsel as refractory as his Judges. The first
barrister who learned that he was expected to defend the dispensing
power was the Solicitor General, Heneage Finch. He peremptorily refused,
and was turned out of office on the following day. [84] The Attorney
General, Sawyer, was ordered to draw warrants authorising members of
the Church of Rome to hold benefices belonging to the Church of England.
Sawyer had been deeply concerned in some of the harshest and most
unjustifiable prosecutions of that age; and the Whigs abhorred him as a
man stained with the blood of Russell and Sidney: but on this occasion
he showed no want of honesty or of resolution. "Sir," said he, "this is
not merely to dispense with a statute; it is to annul the whole statute
law from the accession of Elizabeth to this day. I dare not do it; and I
implore your Majesty to consider whether such an attack upon the rights
of the Church be in accordance with your late gracious promises. " [85]
Sawyer would have been instantly dismissed as Finch had been, if the
government could have found a successor: but this was no easy matter. It
was necessary for the protection of the rights of the crown that one
at least of the crown lawyers should be a man of learning, ability, and
experience; and no such man was willing to defend the dispensing power.
The Attorney General was therefore permitted to retain his place
during some months. Thomas Powis, an insignificant man, who had no
qualification for high employment except servility, was appointed
Solicitor.
The preliminary arrangements were now complete. There was a Solicitor
General to argue for the dispensing power, and twelve Judges to decide
in favour of it. The question was therefore speedily brought to a
hearing. Sir Edward Hales, a gentleman of Kent, had been converted
to Popery in days when it was not safe for any man of note openly to
declare himself a Papist. He had kept his secret, and, when questioned,
had affirmed that he was a Protestant with a solemnity which did little
credit to his principles. When James had ascended the throne, disguise
was no longer necessary. Sir Edward publicly apostatized, and was
rewarded with the command of a regiment of foot. He had held his
commission more than three months without taking the sacrament. He was
therefore liable to a penalty of five hundred pounds, which an informer
might recover by action of debt. A menial servant was employed to bring
a suit for this sum in the Court of King's Bench. Sir Edward did not
dispute the facts alleged against him, but pleaded that he had letters
patent authorising him to hold his commission notwithstanding the Test
Act. The plaintiff demurred, that is to say, admitted Sir Edward's plea
to be true in fact, but denied that it was a sufficient answer. Thus was
raised a simple issue of law to be decided by the court. A barrister,
who was notoriously a tool of the government, appeared for the mock
plaintiff, and made some feeble objections to the defendant's plea. The
new Solicitor General replied. The Attorney General took no part in the
proceedings. Judgment was given by the Lord Chief Justice, Sir Edward
Herbert. He announced that he had submitted the question to all the
twelve Judges, and that, in the opinion of eleven of them, the King
might lawfully dispense with penal statutes in particular cases, and
for special reasons of grave importance. The single dissentient, Baron
Street, was not removed from his place. He was a man of morals so bad
that his own relations shrank from him, and that the Prince of Orange,
at the time of the Revolution, was advised not to see him. The character
of Street makes it impossible to believe that he would have been more
scrupulous than his brethren. The character of James makes it impossible
to believe that a refractory Baron of the Exchequer would have been
permitted to retain his post. There can be no reasonable doubt that the
dissenting Judge was, like the plaintiff and the plaintiff's counsel,
acting collusively. It was important that there should be a great
preponderance of authority in favour of the dispensing power; yet it
was important that the bench, which had been carefully packed for the
occasion, should appear to be independent. One Judge, therefore,
the least respectable of the twelve, was permitted, or more probably
commanded, to give his voice against the prerogative. [86]
The power which the courts of law had thus recognised was not suffered
to lie idle. Within a month after the decision of the King's Bench
had been pronounced, four Roman Catholic Lords were sworn of the Privy
Council. Two of these, Powis and Bellasyse, were of the moderate
party, and probably took their seats with reluctance and with many sad
forebodings. The other two, Arundell and Dover, had no such misgivings.
[87]
The dispensing power was, at the same time, employed for the purpose
of enabling Roman Catholics to hold ecclesiastical preferment. The new
Solicitor readily drew the warrants in which Sawyer had refused to be
concerned. One of these warrants was in favour of a wretch named Edward
Sclater, who had two livings which he was determined to keep at all
costs and through all changes. He administered the sacrament to his
parishioners according to the rites of the Church of England on Palm
Sunday 1686. On Easter Sunday, only seven days later, he was at mass.
The royal dispensation authorised him to retain the emoluments of his
benefices. To the remonstrances of the patrons from whom he had received
his preferment he replied in terms of insolent defiance, and, while the
Roman Catholic cause prospered, put forth an absurd treatise in defence
of his apostasy. But, a very few weeks after the Revolution, a great
congregation assembled at Saint Mary's in the Savoy, to see him received
again into the bosom of the Church which he had deserted. He read his
recantation with tears flowing from his eyes, and pronounced a bitter
invective against the Popish priests whose arts had seduced him. [88]
Scarcely less infamous was the conduct of Obadiah Walker. He was an aged
priest of the Church of England, and was well known in the University of
Oxford as a man of learning. He had in the late reign been suspected of
leaning towards Popery, but had outwardly conformed to the established
religion, and had at length been chosen Master of University College.
Soon after the accession of James, Walker determined to throw off the
disguise which he had hitherto worn. He absented himself from the
public worship of the Church of England, and, with some fellows and
undergraduates whom he had perverted, heard mass daily in his own
apartments. One of the first acts performed by the new Solicitor General
was to draw up an instrument which authorised Walker and his proselytes
to hold their benefices, notwithstanding their apostasy. Builders were
immediately employed to turn two sets of rooms into an oratory. In a
few weeks the Roman Catholic rites were publicly performed in University
College. A Jesuit was quartered there as chaplain. A press was
established there under royal license for the printing of Roman Catholic
tracts. During two years and a half, Walker continued to make war on
Protestantism with all the rancour of a renegade: but when fortune
turned he showed that he wanted the courage of a martyr. He was brought
to the bar of the House of Commons to answer for his conduct, and was
base enough to protest that he had never changed his religion, that he
had never cordially approved of the doctrines of the Church of Rome,
and that he had never tried to bring any other person within the pale
of that Church. It was hardly worth while to violate the most sacred
obligations of law and of plighted faith, for the purpose of making such
converts as these. [89]
In a short time the King went a step further. Sclater and Walker had
only been permitted to keep, after they became Papists, the preferment
which had been bestowed on them while they passed for Protestants. To
confer a high office in the Established Church on an avowed enemy of
that Church was a far bolder violation of the laws and of the royal
word. But no course was too bold for James. The Deanery of Christchurch
became vacant. That office was, both in dignity and in emolument, one of
the highest in the University of Oxford. The Dean was charged with the
government of a greater number of youths of high connections and of
great hopes than could then be found in any other college. He was also
the head of a Cathedral. In both characters it was necessary that he
should be a member of the Church of England. Nevertheless John Massey,
who was notoriously a member of the Church of Rome, and who had not
one single recommendation, except that he was a member of the Church of
Rome, was appointed by virtue of the dispensing power; and soon within
the walls of Christchurch an altar was decked, at which mass was daily
celebrated. [90] To the Nuncio the King said that what had been done at
Oxford should very soon be done at Cambridge. [91]
Yet even this was a small evil compared with that which Protestants
had good ground to apprehend. It seemed but too probable that the whole
government of the Anglican Church would shortly pass into the hands of
her deadly enemies. Three important sees had lately become vacant, that
of York, that of Chester, and that of Oxford. The Bishopric of Oxford
was given to Samuel Parker, a parasite, whose religion, if he had any
religion, was that of Rome, and who called himself a Protestant only
because he was encumbered with a wife. "I wished," the King said to
Adda, "to appoint an avowed Catholic: but the time is not come. Parker
is well inclined to us; he is one of us in feeling; and by degrees he
will bring round his clergy. " [92] The Bishopric of Chester, vacant by the
death of John Pearson, a great name both in philology and in divinity,
was bestowed on Thomas Cartwright, a still viler sycophant than Parker.
The Archbishopric of York remained several years vacant. As no good
reason could be found for leaving so important a place unfilled, men
suspected that the nomination was delayed only till the King could
venture to place the mitre on the head of an avowed Papist. It is indeed
highly probable that the Church of England was saved from this outrage
by the good sense and good feeling of the Pope. Without a special
dispensation from Rome no Jesuit could be a Bishop; and Innocent could
not be induced to grant such a dispensation to Petre.
James did not even make any secret of his intention to exert vigorously
and systematically for the destruction of the Established Church all the
powers which he possessed as her head. He plainly said that, by a wise
dispensation of Providence, the Act of Supremacy would be the means of
healing the fatal breach which it had caused. Henry and Elizabeth had
usurped a dominion which rightfully belonged to the Holy See. That
dominion had, in the course of succession, descended to an orthodox
prince, and would be held by him in trust for the Holy See. He was
authorised by law to repress spiritual abuses; and the first spiritual
abuse which he would repress should be the liberty which the Anglican
clergy assumed of defending their own religion and of attacking the
doctrines of Rome. [93]
But he was met by a great difficulty. The ecclesiastical supremacy
which had devolved on him, was by no means the same great and terrible
prerogative which Elizabeth, James the First, and Charles the First had
possessed. The enactment which annexed to the crown an almost boundless
visitatorial authority over the Church, though it had never been
formally repealed, had really lost a great part of its force. The
substantive law remained; but it remained unaccompanied by any
formidable sanction or by any efficient system of procedure, and was
therefore little more than a dead letter.
The statute, which restored to Elizabeth the spiritual dominion assumed
by her father and resigned by her sister, contained a clause authorising
the sovereign to constitute a tribunal which might investigate, reform,
and punish all ecclesiastical delinquencies. Under the authority given
by this clause, the Court of High Commission was created. That court
was, during many years, the terror of Nonconformists, and, under the
harsh administration of Laud, became an object of fear and hatred even
to those who most loved the Established Church. When the Long Parliament
met, the High Commission was generally regarded as the most grievous
of the many grievances under which the nation laboured. An act was
therefore somewhat hastily passed, which not only took away from the
Crown the power of appointing visitors to superintend the Church, but
abolished all ecclesiastical courts without distinction.
After the Restoration, the Cavaliers who filled the House of Commons,
zealous as they were for the prerogative, still remembered with
bitterness the tyranny of the High Commission, and were by no means
disposed to revive an institution so odious. They at the same time
thought, and not without reason, that the statute which had swept away
all the courts Christian of the realm, without providing any substitute,
was open to grave objection. They accordingly repealed that statute,
with the exception of the part which related to the High Commission.
Thus, the Archidiaconal Courts, the Consistory Courts, the Court of
Arches, the Court of Peculiars, and the Court of Delegates were revived:
but the enactment by which Elizabeth and her successors had been
empowered to appoint Commissioners with visitatorial authority over
the Church was not only not revived, but was declared, with the utmost
strength of language, to be completely abrogated. It is therefore as
clear as any point of constitutional law can be that James the Second
was not competent to appoint a Commission with power to visit and govern
the Church of England. [94] But, if this were so, it was to little
purpose that the Act of Supremacy, in high sounding words, empowered
him to amend what was amiss in that Church. Nothing but a machinery as
stringent as that which the Long Parliament had destroyed could force
the Anglican clergy to become his agents for the destruction of the
Anglican doctrine and discipline. He therefore, as early as the month
of April 1686, determined to create a new Court of High Commission. This
design was not immediately executed. It encountered the opposition of
every minister who was not devoted to France and to the Jesuits. It
was regarded by lawyers as an outrageous violation of the law, and by
Churchmen as a direct attack upon the Church. Perhaps the contest
might have lasted longer, but for an event which wounded the pride and
inflamed the rage of the King. He had, as supreme ordinary, put forth
directions, charging the clergy of the establishment to abstain from
touching in their discourses on controverted points of doctrine. Thus,
while sermons in defence of the Roman Catholic religion were preached on
every Sunday and holiday within the precincts of the royal palaces, the
Church of the state, the Church of the great majority of the nation, was
forbidden to explain and vindicate her own principles. The spirit of the
whole clerical order rose against this injustice. William Sherlock,
a divine of distinguished abilities, who had written with sharpness
against Whigs and Dissenters, and had been rewarded by the government
with the Mastership of the Temple and with a pension, was one of the
first who incurred the royal displeasure. His pension was stopped, and
he was severely reprimanded. [95] John Sharp, Dean of Norwich and Rector
of St. Giles's in the Fields, soon gave still greater offence. He was
a man of learning and fervent piety, a preacher of great fame, and an
exemplary parish priest. In politics he was, like most of his brethren,
a Tory, and had just been appointed one of the royal chaplains. He
received an anonymous letter which purported to come from one of his
parishioners who had been staggered by the arguments of Roman Catholic
theologians, and who was anxious to be satisfied that the Church of
England was a branch of the true Church of Christ. No divine, not
utterly lost to all sense of religious duty and of professional honour,
could refuse to answer such a call. On the following Sunday Sharp
delivered an animated discourse against the high pretensions of the
see of Rome. Some of his expressions were exaggerated, distorted, and
carried by talebearers to Whitehall. It was falsely said that he had
spoken with contumely of the theological disquisitions which had been
found in the strong box of the late King, and which the present King
had published. Compton, the Bishop of London, received orders from
Sunderland to suspend Sharp till the royal pleasure should be further
known. The Bishop was in great perplexity. His recent conduct in the
House of Lords had given deep offence to the court. Already his name had
been struck out of the list of Privy Councillors. Already he had been
dismissed from his office in the royal chapel. He was unwilling to give
fresh provocation but the act which he was directed to perform was a
judicial act. He felt that it was unjust, and he was assured by the best
advisers that it was also illegal, to inflict punishment without giving
any opportunity for defence. He accordingly, in the humblest terms,
represented his difficulties to the King, and privately requested
Sharp not to appear in the pulpit for the present. Reasonable as were
Compton's scruples, obsequious as were his apologies, James was greatly
incensed. What insolence to plead either natural justice or positive
law in opposition to an express command of the Sovereign Sharp was
forgotten. The Bishop became a mark for the whole vengeance of the
government. [96] The King felt more painfully than ever the want of that
tremendous engine which had once coerced refractory ecclesiastics. He
probably knew that, for a few angry words uttered against his father's
government, Bishop Williams had been suspended by the High Commission
from all ecclesiastical dignities and functions. The design of reviving
that formidable tribunal was pushed on more eagerly than ever. In July
London was alarmed by the news that the King had, in direct defiance of
two acts of Parliament drawn in the strongest terms, entrusted the whole
government of the Church to seven Commissioners. [97] The words in which
the jurisdiction of these officers was described were loose, and might
be stretched to almost any extent. All colleges and grammar schools,
even those founded by the liberality of private benefactors, were placed
under the authority of the new board. All who depended for bread on
situations in the Church or in academical institutions, from the Primate
down to the youngest curate, from the Vicechancellors of Oxford and
Cambridge down to the humblest pedagogue who taught Corderius, were at
the royal mercy. If any one of those many thousands was suspected
of doing or saying anything distasteful to the government, the
Commissioners might cite him before them.
In their mode of dealing
with him they were fettered by no rules. They were themselves at once
prosecutors and judges. The accused party was furnished with no copy of
the charge. He was examined and crossexamined. If his answers did not
give satisfaction, he was liable to be suspended from his office, to be
ejected from it, to be pronounced incapable of holding any preferment
in future. If he were contumacious, he might be excommunicated, or, in
other words, be deprived of all civil rights and imprisoned for life. He
might also, at the discretion of the court, be loaded with all the costs
of the proceeding by which he had been reduced to beggary. No appeal
was given. The Commissioners were directed to execute their office
notwithstanding any law which might be, or might seem to be,
inconsistent with these regulations. Lastly, lest any person should
doubt that it was intended to revive that terrible court from which the
Long Parliament had freed the nation, the new tribunal was directed to
use a seal bearing exactly the same device and the same superscription
with the seal of the old High Commission. [98]
The chief Commissioner was the Chancellor. His presence and assent were
necessary to every proceeding. All men knew how unjustly, insolently,
and barbarously he had acted in courts where he had been, to a certain
extent, restrained by the known laws of England. It was, therefore,
not difficult to foresee how he would conduct himself in a situation in
which he was at entire liberty to make forms of procedure and rules of
evidence for himself.
Of the other six Commissioners three were prelates and three laymen. The
name of Archbishop Sancroft stood first. But he was fully convinced that
the court was illegal, that all its judgments would be null, and that
by sitting in it he should incur a serious responsibility. He therefore
determined not to comply with the royal mandate. He did not, however,
act on this occasion with that courage and sincerity which he showed
when driven to extremity two years later. He begged to be excused on
the plea of business and ill health. The other members of the board,
he added, were men of too much ability to need his assistance. These
disingenuous apologies ill became the Primate of all England at such a
crisis; nor did they avert the royal displeasure. Sancroft's name was
not indeed struck out of the list of Privy Councillors: but, to the
bitter mortification of the friends of the Church, he was no longer
summoned on Council days. "If," said the King, "he is too sick or too
busy to go to the Commission, it is a kindness to relieve him from
attendance at Council. " [99]
The government found no similar difficulty with Nathaniel Crewe, Bishop
of the great and opulent see of Durham, a man nobly born, and raised so
high in his profession that he could scarcely wish to rise higher, but
mean, vain, and cowardly. He had been made Dean of the Chapel Royal when
the Bishop of London was banished from the palace. The honour of being
an Ecclesiastical Commissioner turned Crewe's head. It was to no purpose
that some of his friends represented to him the risk which he ran by
sitting in an illegal tribunal. He was not ashamed to answer that he
could not live out of the royal smile, and exultingly expressed his
hope that his name would appear in history, a hope which has not been
altogether disappointed. [100]
Thomas Sprat, Bishop of Rochester, was the third clerical Commissioner.
He was a man to whose talents posterity has scarcely done justice.
Unhappily for his fame, it has been usual to print his verses in
collections of the British poets; and those who judge of him by his
verses must consider him as a servile imitator, who, without one spark
of Cowley's admirable genius, mimicked whatever was least commendable
in Cowley's manner: but those who are acquainted with Sprat's prose
writings will form a very different estimate of his powers. He was
indeed a great master of our language, and possessed at once the
eloquence of the orator, of the controversialist, and of the historian.
His moral character might have passed with little censure had he
belonged to a less sacred profession; for the worst that can be said of
him is that he was indolent, luxurious, and worldly: but such failings,
though not commonly regarded as very heinous in men of secular callings,
are scandalous in a prelate. The Archbishopric of York was vacant; Sprat
hoped to obtain it, and therefore accepted a seat at the ecclesiastical
board: but he was too goodnatured a man to behave harshly; and he was
too sensible a man not to know that he might at some future time be
called to a serious account by a Parliament. He therefore, though he
consented to act, tried to do as little mischief, and to make as few
enemies, as possible. [101]
The three remaining Commissioners were the Lord Treasurer, the Lord
President, and the Chief Justice of the King's Bench. Rochester,
disapproving and murmuring, consented to serve. Much as he had to endure
at the court, he could not bear to quit it. Much as he loved the Church,
he could not bring himself to sacrifice for her sake his white staff,
his patronage, his salary of eight thousand pounds a year, and the far
larger indirect emoluments of his office. He excused his conduct to
others, and perhaps to himself, by pleading that, as a Commissioner, he
might be able to prevent much evil, and that, if he refused to act,
some person less attached to the Protestant religion would be found to
replace him. Sunderland was the representative of the Jesuitical cabal.
Herbert's recent decision on the question of the dispensing power seemed
to prove that he would not flinch from any service which the King might
require.
As soon as the Commission had been opened, the Bishop of London was
cited before the new tribunal. He appeared. "I demand of you," said
Jeffreys, "a direct and positive answer. Why did not you suspend Dr.
Sharp? "
The Bishop requested a copy of the Commission in order that he might
know by what authority he was thus interrogated. "If you mean," said
Jeffreys, "to dispute our authority, I shall take another course with
you. As to the Commission, I do not doubt that you have seen it. At all
events you may see it in any coffeehouse for a penny. " The insolence of
the Chancellor's reply appears to have shocked the other Commissioners,
and he was forced to make some awkward apologies. He then returned to
the point from which he had started. "This," he said, "is not a court in
which written charges are exhibited. Our proceedings are summary, and
by word of mouth. The question is a plain one. Why did you not obey
the King? " With some difficulty Compton obtained a brief delay, and the
assistance of counsel. When the case had been heard, it was evident
to all men that the Bishop had done only what he was bound to do. The
Treasurer, the Chief Justice, and Sprat were for acquittal. The King's
wrath was moved. It seemed that his Ecclesiastical Commission would fail
him as his Tory Parliament had failed him. He offered Rochester a
simple choice, to pronounce the Bishop guilty, or to quit the Treasury.
Rochester was base enough to yield. Compton was suspended from all
spiritual functions; and the charge of his great diocese was committed
to his judges, Sprat and Crewe. He continued, however, to reside in
his palace and to receive his revenues; for it was known that, had any
attempt been made to deprive him of his temporalities, he would have
put himself under the protection of the common law; and Herbert himself
declared that, at common law, judgment must be given against the crown.
This consideration induced the King to pause. Only a few weeks had
elapsed since he had packed the courts of Westminster Hall in order to
obtain a decision in favour of his dispensing power. He now found that,
unless he packed them again, he should not be able to obtain a decision
in favour of the proceedings of his Ecclesiastical Commission. He
determined, therefore, to postpone for a short time the confiscation of
the freehold property of refractory clergymen. [102]
The temper of the nation was indeed such as might well make him
hesitate. During some months discontent had been steadily and rapidly
increasing. The celebration of the Roman Catholic worship had long been
prohibited by Act of Parliament. During several generations no Roman
Catholic clergyman had dared to exhibit himself in any public place with
the badges of his office. Against the regular clergy, and against the
restless and subtle Jesuits by name, had been enacted a succession of
rigorous statutes. Every Jesuit who set foot in this country was
liable to be hanged, drawn, and quartered. A reward was offered for his
detection. He was not allowed to take advantage of the general rule,
that men are not bound to accuse themselves. Whoever was suspected of
being a Jesuit might be interrogated, and, if he refused to answer,
might be sent to prison for life. [103] These laws, though they had not,
except when there was supposed to be some peculiar danger, been strictly
executed, and though they had never prevented Jesuits from resorting to
England, had made disguise necessary. But all disguise was now thrown
off. Injudicious members of the King's Church, encouraged by him, took
a pride in defying statutes which were still of undoubted validity,
and feelings which had a stronger hold of the national mind than at any
former period. Roman Catholic chapels rose all over the country. Cowls,
girdles of ropes, and strings of beads constantly appeared in the
streets, and astonished a population, the oldest of whom had never seen
a conventual garb except on the stage. A convent rose at Clerkenwell on
the site of the ancient cloister of Saint John. The Franciscans occupied
a mansion in Lincoln's Inn Fields. The Carmelites were quartered in the
City. A society of Benedictine monks was lodged in Saint James's Palace.
In the Savoy a spacious house, including a church and a school, was
built for the Jesuits. [104] The skill and care with which those fathers
had, during several generations, conducted the education of youth, had
drawn forth reluctant praises from the wisest Protestants. Bacon had
pronounced the mode of instruction followed in the Jesuit colleges to
be the best yet known in the world, and had warmly expressed his regret
that so admirable a system of intellectual and moral discipline should
be subservient to the interests of a corrupt religion. [105] It was
not improbable that the new academy in the Savoy might, under royal
patronage, prove a formidable rival to the great foundations of Eton,
Westminster, and Winchester. Indeed, soon after the school was opened,
the classes consisted of four hundred boys, about one half of whom were
Protestants. The Protestant pupils were not required to attend mass: but
there could be no doubt that the influence of able preceptors, devoted
to the Roman Catholic Church, and versed in all the arts which win the
confidence and affection of youth, would make many converts.
These things produced great excitement among the populace, which is
always more moved by what impresses the senses than by what is
addressed to the reason. Thousands of rude and ignorant men, to whom the
dispensing power and the Ecclesiastical Commission were words without a
meaning, saw with dismay and indignation a Jesuit college rising on the
banks of the Thames, friars in hoods and gowns walking in the Strand,
and crowds of devotees pressing in at the doors of temples where homage
was paid to graven images. Riots broke out in several parts of the
country. At Coventry and Worcester the Roman Catholic worship was
violently interrupted. [106] At Bristol the rabble, countenanced, it was
said, by the magistrates, exhibited a profane and indecent pageant, in
which the Virgin Mary was represented by a buffoon, and in which a mock
host was carried in procession. The garrison was called out to disperse
the mob. The mob, then and ever since one of the fiercest in the
kingdom, resisted. Blows were exchanged, and serious hurts inflicted.
[107] The agitation was great in the capital, and greater in the City,
properly so called, than at Westminster. For the people of Westminster
had been accustomed to see among them the private chapels of Roman
Catholic Ambassadors: but the City had not, within living memory, been
polluted by any idolatrous exhibition. Now, however, the resident of
the Elector Palatine, encouraged by the King, fitted up a chapel in Lime
Street. The heads of the corporation, though men selected for office
on account of their known Toryism, protested against this proceeding,
which, as they said, the ablest gentlemen of the long robe regarded as
illegal. The Lord Mayor was ordered to appear before the Privy Council.
"Take heed what you do," said the King. "Obey me; and do not trouble
yourself either about gentlemen of the long robe or gentlemen of the
short robe. " The Chancellor took up the word, and reprimanded the
unfortunate magistrate with the genuine eloquence of the Old Bailey
bar. The chapel was opened. All the neighbourhood was soon in commotion.
Great crowds assembled in Cheapside to attack the new mass house. The
priests were insulted. A crucifix was taken out of the building and set
up on the parish pump. The Lord Mayor came to quell the tumult, but was
received with cries of "No wooden gods. " The trainbands were ordered to
disperse the crowd: but they shared in the popular feeling; and murmurs
were heard from the ranks, "We cannot in conscience fight for Popery. "
[108]
The Elector Palatine was, like James, a sincere and zealous Catholic,
and was, like James, the ruler of a Protestant people; but the two
princes resembled each other little in temper and understanding. The
Elector had promised to respect the rights of the Church which he found
established in his dominions. He had strictly kept his word, and had not
suffered himself to be provoked to any violence by the indiscretion of
preachers who, in their antipathy to his faith, occasionally forgot the
respect which they owed to his person. [109] He learned, with concern,
that great offence had been given to the people of London by the
injudicious act of his representative, and, much to his honour, declared
that he would forego the privilege to which, as a sovereign prince, he
was entitled, rather than endanger the peace of a great city. "I, too,"
he wrote to James, "have Protestant subjects; and I know with how much
caution and delicacy it is necessary that a Catholic prince so situated
should act. " James, instead of expressing gratitude for this humane and
considerate conduct, turned the letter into ridicule before the foreign
ministers. It was determined that the Elector should have a chapel in
the City whether he would or not, and that, if the trainbands refused to
do their duty, their place should be supplied by the Guards. [110]
The effect of these disturbances on trade was serious. The Dutch
minister informed the States General that the business of the Exchange
was at a stand. The Commissioners of the Customs reported to the King
that, during the month which followed the opening of Lime Street Chapel,
the receipt in the port of the Thames had fallen off by some thousands
of pounds. [111] Several Aldermen, who, though zealous royalists
appointed under the new charter, were deeply interested in the
commercial prosperity of their city, and loved neither Popery nor
martial law, tendered their resignations. But the King was resolved
not to yield. He formed a camp on Hounslow Heath, and collected
there, within a circumference of about two miles and a half, fourteen
battalions of foot and thirty-two squadrons of horse, amounting to
thirteen thousand fighting men. Twenty-six pieces of artillery, and
many wains laden with arms and ammunition, were dragged from the Tower
through the City to Hounslow. [112] The Londoners saw this great force
assembled in their neighbourhood with a terror which familiarity soon
diminished. A visit to Hounslow became their favourite amusement on
holidays. The camp presented the appearance of a vast fair. Mingled with
the musketeers and dragoons, a multitude of fine gentlemen and ladies
from Soho Square, sharpers and painted women from Whitefriars, invalids
in sedans, monks in hoods and gowns, lacqueys in rich liveries, pedlars,
orange girls, mischievous apprentices and gaping clowns, was constantly
passing and repassing through the long lanes of tents. From some
pavilions were heard the noises of drunken revelry, from others the
curses of gamblers. In truth the place was merely a gay suburb of the
capital. The King, as was amply proved two years later, had greatly
miscalculated. He had forgotten that vicinity operates in more ways than
one. He had hoped that his army would overawe London: but the result of
his policy was that the feelings and opinions of London took complete
possession of his army. [113]
Scarcely indeed had the encampment been formed when there were rumours
of quarrels between the Protestant and Popish soldiers. [114] A little
tract, entitled A humble and hearty Address to all English Protestants
in the Army, had been actively circulated through the ranks. The writer
vehemently exhorted the troops to use their arms in defence, not of the
mass book, but of the Bible, of the Great Charter, and of the Petition
of Right. He was a man already under the frown of power. His character
was remarkable, and his history not uninstructive.
His name was Samuel Johnson. He was a priest of the Church of England,
and had been chaplain to Lord Russell. Johnson was one of those persons
who are mortally hated by their opponents, and less loved than respected
by their allies. His morals were pure, his religious feelings ardent,
his learning and abilities not contemptible, his judgment weak,
his temper acrimonious, turbulent, and unconquerably stubborn. His
profession made him peculiarly odious to the zealous supporters of
monarchy; for a republican in holy orders was a strange and almost an
unnatural being. During the late reign Johnson had published a book
entitled Julian the Apostate. The object of this work was to show
that the Christians of the fourth century did not hold the doctrine
of nonresistance. It was easy to produce passages from Chrysostom and
Jerome written in a spirit very different from that of the Anglican
divines who preached against the Exclusion Bill. Johnson, however, went
further. He attempted to revive the odious imputation which had, for
very obvious reasons, been thrown by Libanius on the Christian soldiers
of Julian, and insinuated that the dart which slew the imperial renegade
came, not from the enemy, but from some Rumbold or Ferguson in the Roman
ranks. A hot controversy followed. Whig and Tory disputants wrangled
fiercely about an obscure passage, in which Gregory of Nazianzus praises
a pious Bishop who was going to bastinado somebody. The Whigs maintained
that the holy man was going to bastinado the Emperor; the Tories that,
at the worst, he was only going to bastinado a captain of the guard.
Johnson prepared a reply to his assailants, in which he drew an
elaborate parallel between Julian and James, then Duke of York, Julian
had, during many years, pretended to abhor idolatry, while in heart an
idolater. Julian had, to serve a turn, occasionally affected respect for
the rights of conscience. Julian had punished cities which were zealous
for the true religion, by taking away their municipal privileges. Julian
had, by his flatterers, been called the Just. James was provoked beyond
endurance. Johnson was prosecuted for a libel, convicted, and condemned
to a fine which he had no means of paying. He was therefore kept in
gaol; and it seemed likely that his confinement would end only with his
life. [115]
Over the room which he occupied in the King's Bench prison lodged
another offender whose character well deserves to be studied. This was
Hugh Speke, a young man of good family, but of a singularly base and
depraved nature. His love of mischief and of dark and crooked ways
amounted almost to madness. To cause confusion without being found
out was his business and his pastime; and he had a rare skill in using
honest enthusiasts as the instruments of his coldblooded malice. He
had attempted, by means of one of his puppets, to fasten on Charles and
James the crime of murdering Essex in the Tower. On this occasion the
agency of Speke had been traced and, though he succeeded in throwing the
greater part of the blame on his dupe, he had not escaped with impunity.
He was now a prisoner; but his fortune enabled him to live with comfort;
and he was under so little restraint that he was able to keep up regular
communication with one of his confederates who managed a secret press.
Johnson was the very man for Speke's purposes, zealous and intrepid, a
scholar and a practised controversialist, yet as simple as a child. A
close intimacy sprang up between the two fellow prisoners. Johnson wrote
a succession of bitter and vehement treatises which Speke conveyed to
the printer. When the camp was formed at Hounslow, Speke urged Johnson
to compose an address which might excite the troops to mutiny. The paper
was instantly drawn up. Many thousands of copies were struck off and
brought to Speke's room, whence they were distributed over the whole
country, and especially among the soldiers. A milder government than
that which then ruled England would have been moved to high resentment
by such a provocation. Strict search was made. A subordinate agent who
had been employed to circulate the address saved himself by giving up
Johnson; and Johnson was not the man to save himself by giving up Speke.
An information was filed, and a conviction obtained without difficulty.
Julian Johnson, as he was popularly called, was sentenced to stand
thrice in the pillory, and to be whipped from Newgate to Tyburn. The
Judge, Sir Francis Withins, told the criminal to be thankful for the
great lenity of the Attorney General, who might have treated the case
as one of high treason. "I owe him no thanks," answered Johnson,
dauntlessly. "Am I, whose only crime is that I have defended the Church
and the laws, to be grateful for being scourged like a dog, while Popish
scribblers are suffered daily to insult the Church and to violate the
laws with impunity? " The energy with which he spoke was such that both
the Judges and the crown lawyers thought it necessary to vindicate
themselves, and protested that they knew of no Popish publications
such as those to which the prisoner alluded. He instantly drew from his
pocket some Roman Catholic books and trinkets which were then freely
exposed for sale under the royal patronage, read aloud the titles of the
books, and threw a rosary across the table to the King's counsel. "And
now," he cried with a loud voice, "I lay this information before God,
before this court, and before the English people. We shall soon see
whether Mr. Attorney will do his duty. "
It was resolved that, before the punishment was inflicted, Johnson
should be degraded from the priesthood. The prelates who had been
charged by the Ecclesiastical Commission with the care of the diocese
of London cited him before them in the chapter house of Saint Paul's
Cathedral. The manner in which he went through the ceremony made a deep
impression on many minds. When he was stripped of his sacred robe he
exclaimed, "You are taking away my gown because I have tried to keep
your gowns on your backs. " The only part of the formalities which seemed
to distress him was the plucking of the Bible out of his hand. He made
a faint struggle to retain the sacred book, kissed it, and burst into
tears. "You cannot," he said, "deprive me of the hopes which I owe to
it. " Some attempts were made to obtain a remission of the flogging. A
Roman Catholic priest offered to intercede in consideration of a bribe
of two hundred pounds.
