No More Learning

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. The money was raised; and the priest did his
best, but in vain.

"Mr. Johnson," said the King, "has the spirit of a martyr; and it is fit
that he should be one. " William the Third said, a few years later, of
one of the most acrimonious and intrepid Jacobites, "He has set his
heart on being a martyr, and I have set mine on disappointing him. "
These two speeches would alone suffice to explain the widely different
fates of the two princes.

The day appointed for the flogging came. A whip of nine lashes was used.
Three hundred and seventeen stripes were inflicted; but the sufferer
never winced. He afterwards said that the pain was cruel, but that, as
he was dragged at the tail of the cart, he remembered how patiently the
cross had been borne up Mount Calvary, and was so much supported by the
thought that, but for the fear of incurring the suspicion of vain glory,
he would have sung a psalm with as firm and cheerful a voice as if he
had been worshipping God in the congregation. It is impossible not to
wish that so much heroism had been less alloyed by intemperance and
intolerance. [116]

Among the clergy of the Church of England Johnson found no sympathy. He
had attempted to justify rebellion; he had even hinted approbation of
regicide; and they still, in spite of much provocation, clung to the
doctrine of nonresistance. But they saw with alarm and concern the
progress of what they considered as a noxious superstition, and, while
they abjured all thought of defending their religion by the sword,
betook themselves manfully to weapons of a different kind. To preach
against the errors of Popery was now regarded by them as a point of duty
and a point of honour. The London clergy, who were then in abilities
and influence decidedly at the head of their profession, set an example
which was bravely followed by their ruder brethren all over the country.
Had only a few bold men taken this freedom, they would probably have
been at once cited before the Ecclesiastical Commission; but it was
hardly possible to punish an offence which was committed every Sunday
by thousands of divines, from Berwick to Penzance. The presses of
the capital, of Oxford, and of Cambridge, never rested. The act which
subjected literature to a censorship did not seriously impede the
exertions of Protestant controversialists; for it contained a proviso
in favour of the two Universities, and authorised the publication of
theological works licensed by the Archbishop of Canterbury. It was
therefore out of the power of the government to silence the defenders of
the established religion. They were a numerous, an intrepid, and a
well appointed band of combatants. Among them were eloquent declaimers,
expert dialecticians, scholars deeply read in the writings of the
fathers and in all parts of ecclesiastical history. Some of them, at a
later period, turned against one another the formidable arms which they
had wielded against the common enemy, and by their fierce contentions
and insolent triumphs brought reproach on the Church which they had
saved. But at present they formed an united phalanx. In the van appeared
a rank of steady and skilful veterans, Tillotson, Stillingfleet,
Sherlock, Prideaux, Whitby, Patrick, Tenison, Wake. The rear was brought
up by the most distinguished bachelors of arts who were studying for
deacon's orders. Conspicuous amongst the recruits whom Cambridge sent to
the field was a distinguished pupil of the great Newton, Henry Wharton,
who had, a few months before, been senior wrangler of his year, and
whose early death was soon after deplored by men of all parties as an
irreparable loss to letters. [117] Oxford was not less proud of a youth,
whose great powers, first essayed in this conflict, afterwards troubled
the Church and the State during forty eventful years, Francis Atterbury.
By such men as these every question in issue between the Papists and
the Protestants was debated, sometimes in a popular style which boys and
women could comprehend, sometimes with the utmost subtlety of logic, and
sometimes with an immense display of learning. The pretensions of the
Holy See, the authority of tradition, purgatory, transubstantiation, the
sacrifice of the mass, the adoration of the host, the denial of the cup
to the laity, confession, penance, indulgences, extreme unction, the
invocation of saints, the adoration of images, the celibacy of the
clergy, the monastic vows, the practice of celebrating public worship in
a tongue unknown to the multitude, the corruptions of the court of Rome,
the history of the Reformation, the characters of the chief reformers,
were copiously discussed. Great numbers of absurd legends about miracles
wrought by saints and relics were translated from the Italian and
published as specimens of the priestcraft by which the greater part of
Christendom had been fooled. Of the tracts put forth on these subjects
by Anglican divines during the short reign of James the Second many have
probably perished. Those which may still be found in our great libraries
make up a mass of near twenty thousand pages. [118]

The Roman Catholics did not yield the victory without a struggle. One
of them, named Henry Hills, had been appointed printer to the royal
household and chapel, and had been placed by the King at the head of
a great office in London from which theological tracts came forth by
hundreds. Obadiah Walker's press was not less active at Oxford. But,
with the exception of some bad translations of Bossuet's admirable
works, these establishments put forth nothing of the smallest value. It
was indeed impossible for any intelligent and candid Roman Catholic
to deny that the champions of his Church were, in every talent and
acquirement, completely over-matched. The ablest of them would not, on
the other side, have been considered as of the third rate. Many of them,
even when they had something to say, knew not how to say it. They had
been excluded by their religion from English schools and universities;
nor had they ever, till the accession of James, found England an
agreeable, or even a safe, residence. They had therefore passed the
greater part of their lives on the Continent, and had almost unlearned
their mother tongue. When they preached, their outlandish accent moved
the derision of the audience. They spelt like washerwomen. Their diction
was disfigured by foreign idioms; and, when they meant to be eloquent,
they imitated, as well as they could, what was considered as fine
writing in those Italian academies where rhetoric had then reached the
last stage of corruption. Disputants labouring under these disadvantages
would scarcely, even with truth on their side, have been able to make
head against men whose style is eminently distinguished by simple purity
and grace. [119]

The situation of England in the year 1686 cannot be better described
than in the words of the French Ambassador. "The discontent," he wrote,
"is great and general: but the fear of incurring still worse evils
restrains all who have anything to lose. The King openly expresses his
joy at finding himself in a situation to strike bold strokes. He likes
to be complimented on this subject. He has talked to me about it, and
has assured me that he will not flinch. " [120]

Meanwhile in other parts of the empire events of grave importance had
taken place. The situation of the episcopalian Protestants of Scotland
differed widely from that in which their English brethren stood. In the
south of the island the religion of the state was the religion of
the people, and had a strength altogether independent of the strength
derived from the support of the government. The sincere conformists were
far more numerous than the Papists and the Protestant Dissenters taken
together. The Established Church of Scotland was the Church of a small
minority. The majority of the lowland population was firmly attached to
the Presbyterian discipline. Prelacy was abhorred by the great body
of Scottish Protestants, both as an unscriptural and as a foreign
institution. It was regarded by the disciples of Knox as a relic of the
abominations of Babylon the Great. It painfully reminded a people proud
of the memory of Wallace and Bruce that Scotland, since her sovereigns
had succeeded to a fairer inheritance, had been independent in name
only. The episcopal polity was also closely associated in the public
mind with all the evils produced by twenty-five years of corrupt and
cruel maladministration. Nevertheless this polity stood, though on a
narrow basis and amidst fearful storms, tottering indeed, yet upheld by
the civil magistrate, and leaning for support, whenever danger became
serious, on the power of England. The records of the Scottish Parliament
were thick set with laws denouncing vengeance on those who in any
direction strayed from the prescribed pale. By an Act passed in the time
of Knox, and breathing his spirit, it was a high crime to hear mass,
and the third offence was capital. [121] An Act recently passed, at
the instance of James, made it death to preach in any Presbyterian
conventicle whatever, and even to attend such a conventicle in the open
air. [122] The Eucharist was not, as in England, degraded into a civil
test; but no person could hold any office, could sit in Parliament, or
could even vote for a member of Parliament, without subscribing, under
the sanction of an oath, a declaration which condemned in the strongest
terms the principles both of the Papists and of the Covenanters. [123]

In the Privy Council of Scotland there were two parties corresponding to
the two parties which were contending against each other at Whitehall.
William Douglas, Duke of Queensberry, was Lord Treasurer, and had,
during some years, been considered as first minister. He was nearly
connected by affinity, by similarity of opinions, and by similarity of
temper, with the Treasurer of England. Both were Tories: both were men
of hot temper and strong prejudices; both were ready to support their
master in any attack on the civil liberties of his people; but both
were sincerely attached to the Established Church. Queensberry had early
notified to the court that, if any innovation affecting that Church were
contemplated, to such innovation he could be no party. But among his
colleagues were several men not less unprincipled than Sunderland. In
truth the Council chamber at Edinburgh had been, during a quarter of
a century, a seminary of all public and private vices; and some of
the politicians whose character had been formed there had a peculiar
hardness of heart and forehead to which Westminster, even in that bad
age, could hardly show anything quite equal. The Chancellor, James
Drummond, Earl of Perth, and his brother, the Secretary of State, John
Lord Melfort, were bent on supplanting Queensberry. The Chancellor had
already an unquestionable title to the royal favour. He had brought into
use a little steel thumbscrew which gave such exquisite torment that it
had wrung confessions even out of men on whom His Majesty's favourite
boot had been tried in vain. [124] But it was well known that even
barbarity was not so sure a way to the heart of James as apostasy. To
apostasy, therefore, Perth and Melfort resorted with a certain audacious
baseness which no English statesman could hope to emulate. They declared
that the papers found in the strong box of Charles the Second had
converted them both to the true faith; and they began to confess and to
hear mass. [125] How little conscience had to do with Perth's change of
religion he amply proved by taking to wife, a few weeks later, in direct
defiance of the laws of the Church which he had just joined, a lady who
was his cousin german, without waiting for a dispensation. When the good
Pope learned this, he said, with scorn and indignation which well became
him, that this was a strange sort of conversion. [126] But James was
more easily satisfied. The apostates presented themselves at Whitehall,
and there received such assurances of his favour, that they ventured to
bring direct charges against the Treasurer. Those charges, however,
were so evidently frivolous that James was forced to acquit the accused
minister; and many thought that the Chancellor had ruined himself by his
malignant eagerness to ruin his rival. There were a few, however,
who judged more correctly. Halifax, to whom Perth expressed some
apprehensions, answered with a sneer that there was no danger. "Be of
good cheer, my Lord; thy faith hath made thee whole. " The prediction was
correct. Perth and Melfort went back to Edinburgh, the real heads of the
government of their country. [127] Another member of the Scottish Privy
Council, Alexander Stuart, Earl of Murray, the descendant and heir of
the Regent, abjured the religion of which his illustrious ancestor had
been the foremost champion, and declared himself a member of the
Church of Rome. Devoted as Queensberry had always been to the cause of
prerogative, he could not stand his ground against competitors who
were willing to pay such a price for the favour of the court. He had to
endure a succession of mortifications and humiliations similar to those
which, about the same time, began to embitter the life of his friend
Rochester. Royal letters came down authorising Papists to hold offices
without taking the test. The clergy were strictly charged not to reflect
on the Roman Catholic religion in their discourses. The Chancellor took
on himself to send the macers of the Privy Council round to the few
printers and booksellers who could then be found in Edinburgh, charging
them not to publish any work without his license. It was well understood
that this order was intended to prevent the circulation of Protestant
treatises. One honest stationer told the messengers that he had in his
shop a book which reflected in very coarse terms on Popery, and begged
to know whether he might sell it. They asked to see it; and he showed
them a copy of the Bible. [128] A cargo of images, beads, crosses and
censers arrived at Leith directed to Lord Perth. The importation of such
articles had long been considered as illegal; but now the officers of
the customs allowed the superstitious garments and trinkets to pass.
[129] In a short time it was known that a Popish chapel had been fitted
up in the Chancellor's house, and that mass was regularly said there.
The mob rose. The mansion where the idolatrous rites were celebrated
was fiercely attacked. The iron bars which protected the windows were
wrenched off. Lady Perth and some of her female friends were pelted
with mud. One rioter was seized, and ordered by the Privy Council to be
whipped. His fellows rescued him and beat the hangman. The city was
all night in confusion. The students of the University mingled with the
crowd and animated the tumult. Zealous burghers drank the health of the
college lads and confusion to Papists, and encouraged each other to face
the troops. The troops were already under arms. They were received with
a shower of stones, which wounded an officer. Orders were given to fire;
and several citizens were killed. The disturbance was serious; but
the Drummonds, inflamed by resentment and ambition, exaggerated it
strangely. Queensberry observed that their reports would lead any
person, who had not been a witness of the tumult, to believe that
a sedition as formidable as that of Masaniello had been raging at
Edinburgh. They in return accused the Treasurer, not only of extenuating
the crime of the insurgents, but of having himself prompted it, and
did all in their power to obtain evidence of his guilt. One of the
ringleaders, who had been taken, was offered a pardon if he would own
that Queensberry had set him on; but the same religious enthusiasm,
which had impelled the unhappy prisoner to criminal violence, prevented
him from purchasing his life by a calumny. He and several of his
accomplices were hanged. A soldier, who was accused of exclaiming,
during the affray, that he should like to run his sword through a
Papist, was shot; and Edinburgh was again quiet: but the sufferers
were regarded as martyrs; and the Popish Chancellor became an object of
mortal hatred, which in no long time was largely gratified. [130]

The King was much incensed. The news of the tumult reached him when the
Queen, assisted by the Jesuits, had just triumphed over Lady Dorchester
and her Protestant allies. The malecontents should find, he declared,
that the only effect of the resistance offered to his will was to make
him more and more resolute. [131] He sent orders to the Scottish Council
to punish the guilty with the utmost severity, and to make unsparing use
of the boot. [132] He pretended to be fully convinced of the Treasurer's
innocence, and wrote to that minister in gracious words; but the
gracious words were accompanied by ungracious acts. The Scottish
Treasury was put into commission in spite of the earnest remonstrances
of Rochester, who probably saw his own fate prefigured in that of his
kinsman. [133] Queensberry was, indeed, named First Commissioner, and
was made President of the Privy Council: but his fall, though thus
broken, was still a fall. He was also removed from the government of the
castle of Edinburgh, and was succeeded in that confidential post by the
Duke of Gordon, a Roman Catholic. [134]

And now a letter arrived from London, fully explaining to the Scottish
Privy Council the intentions of the King. What he wanted was that the
Roman Catholics should be exempted from all laws imposing penalties and
disabilities on account of nonconformity, but that the persecution
of the Covenanters should go on without mitigation.