No More Learning

The fallen
dynasty and the fallen hierarchy were restored. The Puritan was in his
turn subjected to disabilities and penalties; and he immediately found
out that it was barbarous to punish men for entertaining conscientious
scruples about a garb, about a ceremony, about the functions of
ecclesiastical officers. His piteous complaints and his arguments in
favour of toleration had at length imposed on many well meaning persons.
Even zealous churchmen had begun to entertain a hope that the severe
discipline which he had undergone had made him candid, moderate,
charitable. Had this been really so, it would doubtless have been our
duty to treat his scruples with extreme tenderness. But, while we were
considering what we could do to meet his wishes in England, he had
obtained ascendency in Scotland; and, in an instant, he was all himself
again, bigoted, insolent, and cruel. Manses had been sacked; churches
shut up; prayer books burned; sacred garments torn; congregations
dispersed by violence; priests hustled, pelted, pilloried, driven forth,
with their wives and babes, to beg or die of hunger. That these outrages
were to be imputed, not to a few lawless marauders, but to the great
body of the Presbyterians of Scotland, was evident from the fact
that the government had not dared either to inflict punishment on the
offenders or to grant relief to the sufferers. Was it not fit then that
the Church of England should take warning? Was it reasonable to ask
her to mutilate her apostolical polity and her beautiful ritual for the
purpose of conciliating those who wanted nothing but power to rabble her
as they had rabbled her sister? Already these men had obtained a boon
which they ill deserved, and which they never would have granted.
They worshipped God in perfect security. Their meeting houses were
as effectually protected as the choirs of our cathedrals. While
no episcopal minister could, without putting his life in jeopardy,
officiate in Ayrshire or Renfrewshire, a hundred Presbyterian ministers
preached unmolested every Sunday in Middlesex. The legislature had,
with a generosity perhaps imprudent, granted toleration to the most
intolerant of men; and with toleration it behoved them to be content.

Thus several causes conspired to inflame the parochial clergy against
the scheme of comprehension. Their temper was such that, if the plan
framed in the Jerusalem Chamber had been directly submitted to them,
it would have been rejected by a majority of twenty to one. But in
the Convocation their weight bore no proportion to their number.
The Convocation has, happily for our country, been so long utterly
insignificant that, till a recent period, none but curious students
cared to inquire how it was constituted; and even now many persons, not
generally ill informed, imagine it to have been a council representing
the Church of England. In truth the Convocation so often mentioned
in our ecclesiastical history is merely the synod of the Province of
Canterbury, and never had a right to speak in the name of the whole
clerical body. The Province of York had also its convocation: but,
till the eighteenth century was far advanced, the Province of York was
generally so poor, so rude, and so thinly peopled, that, in political
importance, it could hardly be considered as more than a tenth part of
the kingdom. The sense of the Southern clergy was therefore popularly
considered as the sense of the whole profession. When the formal
concurrence of the Northern clergy was required, it seems to have been
given as a matter of course. Indeed the canons passed by the Convocation
of Canterbury in 1604 were ratified by James the First, and were ordered
to be strictly observed in every part of the kingdom, two years before
the Convocation of York went through the form of approving them. Since
these ecclesiastical councils became mere names, a great change has
taken place in the relative position of the two Archbishoprics. In all
the elements of power, the region beyond Trent is now at least a third
part of England. When in our own time the representative system was
adjusted to the altered state of the country, almost all the small
boroughs which it was necessary to disfranchise were in the south. Two
thirds of the new members given to great provincial towns were given
to the north. If therefore any English government should suffer the
Convocations, as now constituted, to meet for the despatch of business,
two independent synods would be legislating at the same time for one
Church. It is by no means impossible that one assembly might adopt
canons which the other might reject, that one assembly might condemn as
heretical propositions which the other might hold to be orthodox, [501]
In the seventeenth century no such danger was apprehended. So little
indeed was the Convocation of York then considered, that the two Houses
of Parliament had, in their address to William, spoken only of one
Convocation, which they called the Convocation of the Clergy of the
Kingdom.

The body which they thus not very accurately designated is divided into
two Houses. The Upper House is composed of the Bishops of the Province
of Canterbury. The Lower House consisted, in 1689, of a hundred and
forty-four members. Twenty-two Deans and fifty-four Archdeacons sate
there in virtue of their offices. Twenty-four divines sate as proctors
for twenty-four chapters. Only forty-four proctors were elected by
the eight thousand parish priests of the twenty-two dioceses. These
forty-four proctors, however, were almost all of one mind. The elections
had in former times been conducted in the most quiet and decorous
manner. But on this occasion the canvassing was eager: the contests were
sharp: Rochester, the leader of the party which in the House of Lords
had opposed the Comprehension-Bill, and his brother Clarendon, who had
refused to take the oaths, had gone to Oxford, the head quarters of that
party, for the purpose of animating and organizing the opposition, [502]
The representatives of the parochial clergy must have been men whose
chief distinction was their zeal: for in the whole list can be found not
a single illustrious name, and very few names which are now known even
to curious students, [503] The official members of the Lower House,
among whom were many distinguished scholars and preachers, seem to have
been not very unequally divided.

During the summer of 1689 several high ecclesiastical dignities became
vacant, and were bestowed on divines who were sitting in the Jerusalem
Chamber. It has already been mentioned that Thomas, Bishop of Worcester,
died just before the day fixed for taking the oaths. Lake, Bishop of
Chichester, lived just long enough to refuse them, and with his last
breath declared that he would maintain even at the stake the doctrine
of indefeasible hereditary right. The see of Chichester was filled by
Patrick, that of Worcester by Stillingfleet; and the deanery of
Saint Paul's which Stillingfleet quitted was given to Tillotson. That
Tillotson was not raised to the episcopal bench excited some surprise.
But in truth it was because the government held his services in the
highest estimation that he was suffered to remain a little longer a
simple presbyter. The most important office in the Convocation was that
of Prolocutor of the Lower House. The Prolocutor was to be chosen by the
members: and the only moderate man who had a chance of being chosen was
Tillotson. It had in fact been already determined that he should be the
next Archbishop of Canterbury. When he went to kiss hands for his new
deanery he warmly thanked the King. "Your Majesty has now set me at ease
for the remainder of my life. " "No such thing, Doctor, I assure you,"
said William. He then plainly intimated that, whenever Sancroft should
cease to fill the highest ecclesiastical station, Tillotson would
succeed to it. Tillotson stood aghast; for his nature was quiet and
unambitious: he was beginning to feel the infirmities of old age: he
cared little for money: of worldly advantages those which he most
valued were an honest fame and the general good will of mankind: those
advantages he already possessed; and he could not but be aware that, if
he became primate, he should incur the bitterest hatred of a powerful
party, and should become a mark for obloquy, from which his gentle
and sensitive nature shrank as from the rack or the wheel. William was
earnest and resolute. "It is necessary," he said, "for my service; and
I must lay on your conscience the responsibility of refusing me your
help. " Here the conversation ended. It was, indeed, not necessary that
the point should be immediately decided; for several months were still
to elapse before the Archbishopric would be vacant.

Tillotson bemoaned himself with unfeigned anxiety and sorrow to Lady
Russell, whom, of all human beings, he most honoured and trusted, [504]
He hoped, he said, that he was not inclined to shrink from the service
of the Church; but he was convinced that his present line of service was
that in which he could be most useful. If he should be forced to accept
so high and so invidious a post as the primacy, he should soon sink
under the load of duties and anxieties too heavy for his strength. His
spirits, and with his spirits his abilities, would fail him. He gently
complained of Burnet, who loved and admired him with a truly generous
heartiness, and who had laboured to persuade both the King and
Queen that there was in England only one man fit for the highest
ecclesiastical dignity. "The Bishop of Salisbury," said Tillotson, "is
one of the best and worst friends that I know. "

Nothing that was not a secret to Burnet was likely to be long a secret
to any body. It soon began to be whispered about that the King had
fixed on Tillotson to fill the place of Sancroft. The news caused cruel
mortification to Compton, who, not unnaturally, conceived that his own
claims were unrivalled. He had educated the Queen and her sister; and
to the instruction which they had received from him might fairly be
ascribed, at least in part, the firmness with which, in spite of the
influence of their father, they had adhered to the established religion.
Compton was, moreover, the only prelate who, during the late reign, had
raised his voice in Parliament against the dispensing power, the only
prelate who had been suspended by the High Commission, the only prelate
who had signed the invitation to the Prince of Orange, the only prelate
who had actually taken arms against Popery and arbitrary power, the
only prelate, save one, who had voted against a Regency. Among the
ecclesiastics of the Province of Canterbury who had taken the oaths,
he was highest in rank. He had therefore held, during some months, a
vicarious primacy: he had crowned the new Sovereigns: he had consecrated
the new Bishops: he was about to preside in the Convocation. It may be
added, that he was the son of an Earl; and that no person of equally
high birth then sate, or had ever sate, since the Reformation, on the
episcopal bench. That the government should put over his head a priest
of his own diocese, who was the son of a Yorkshire clothier, and who was
distinguished only by abilities and virtues, was provoking; and Compton,
though by no means a badhearted man, was much provoked. Perhaps his
vexation was increased by the reflection that he had, for the sake of
those by whom he was thus slighted, done some things which had strained
his conscience and sullied his reputation, that he had at one time
practised the disingenuous arts of a diplomatist, and at another time
given scandal to his brethren by wearing the buff coat and jackboots of
a trooper. He could not accuse Tillotson of inordinate ambition. But,
though Tillotson was most unwilling to accept the Archbishopric himself,
he did not use his influence in favour of Compton, but earnestly
recommended Stillingfleet as the man fittest to preside over the Church
of England. The consequence was that, on the eve of the meeting of
Convocation, the Bishop who was to be at the head of the Upper House
became the personal enemy of the presbyter whom the government wished to
see at the head of the Lower House. This quarrel added new difficulties
to difficulties which little needed any addition, [505]

It was not till the twentieth of November that the Convocation met for
the despatch of business. The place of meeting had generally been Saint
Paul's Cathedral. But Saint Paul's Cathedral was slowly rising from
its ruins; and, though the dome already towered high above the hundred
steeples of the City, the choir had not yet been opened for public
worship. The assembly therefore sate at Westminster, [506] A table was
placed in the beautiful chapel of Henry the Seventh. Compton was in
the chair. On his right and left those suffragans of Canterbury who
had taken the oaths were ranged in gorgeous vestments of scarlet
and miniver. Below the table was assembled the crowd of presbyters.
Beveridge preached a Latin sermon, in which he warmly eulogized the
existing system, and yet declared himself favourable to a moderate
reform. Ecclesiastical laws were, he said, of two kinds. Some laws were
fundamental and eternal: they derived their authority from God; nor
could any religious community repeal them without ceasing to form a part
of the universal Church. Other laws were local and temporary. They had
been framed by human wisdom, and might be altered by human wisdom. They
ought not indeed to be altered without grave reasons. But surely, at
that moment, such reasons were not wanting. To unite a scattered flock
in one fold under one shepherd, to remove stumbling blocks from the path
of the weak, to reconcile hearts long estranged, to restore spiritual
discipline to its primitive vigour, to place the best and purest of
Christian societies on a base broad enough to stand against all the
attacks of earth and hell, these were objects which might well justify
some modification, not of Catholic institutions, but of national or
provincial usages, [507]

The Lower House, having heard this discourse, proceeded to appoint
a Prolocutor. Sharp, who was probably put forward by the members
favourable to a comprehension as one of the highest churchmen among
them, proposed Tillotson. Jane, who had refused to act under the
Royal Commission, was proposed on the other side. After some animated
discussion, Jane was elected by fifty-five votes to twenty-eight, [508]

The Prolocutor was formally presented to the Bishop of London, and
made, according to ancient usage, a Latin oration. In this oration the
Anglican Church was extolled as the most perfect of all institutions.
There was a very intelligible intimation that no change whatever in her
doctrine, her discipline, or her ritual was required; and the discourse
concluded with a most significant sentence. Compton, when a few months
before he exhibited himself in the somewhat unclerical character of
a colonel of horse, had ordered the colours of his regiment to be
embroidered with the well known words "Nolumus leges Angliae mutari";
and with these words Jane closed his peroration, [509]

Still the Low Churchmen did not relinquish all hope. They very wisely
determined to begin by proposing to substitute lessons taken from the
canonical books for the lessons taken from the Apocrypha. It should seem
that this was a suggestion which, even if there had not been a single
dissenter in the kingdom, might well have been received with favour. For
the Church had, in her sixth Article, declared that the canonical books
were, and that the Apocryphal books were not, entitled to be called Holy
Scriptures, and to be regarded as the rule of faith. Even this reform,
however, the High Churchmen were determined to oppose. They asked,
in pamphlets which covered the counters of Paternoster Row and Little
Britain, why country congregations should be deprived of the pleasure of
hearing about the ball of pitch with which Daniel choked the dragon,
and about the fish whose liver gave forth such a fume as sent the devil
flying from Ecbatana to Egypt. And were there not chapters of the
Wisdom of the Son of Sirach far more interesting and edifying than
the genealogies and muster rolls which made up a large part of the
Chronicles of the Jewish Kings and of the narrative of Nehemiah?
No grave divine however would have liked to maintain, in Henry the
Seventh's Chapel, that it was impossible to find, in many hundreds of
pages dictated by the Holy Spirit, fifty or sixty chapters more edifying
than any thing which could be extracted from the works of the most
respectable uninspired moralist or historian. The leaders of the
majority therefore determined to shun a debate in which they must have
been reduced to a disagreeable dilemma. Their plan was, not to
reject the recommendations of the Commissioners, but to prevent those
recommendations from being discussed; and with this view a system of
tactics was adopted which proved successful.

The law, as it had been interpreted during a long course of years,
prohibited the Convocation from even deliberating on any ecclesiastical
ordinance without a previous warrant from the Crown. Such a warrant,
sealed with the great seal, was brought in form to Henry the Seventh's
Chapel by Nottingham. He at the same time delivered a message from the
King. His Majesty exhorted the assembly to consider calmly and without
prejudice the recommendations of the Commission, and declared that
he had nothing in view but the honour and advantage of the Protestant
religion in general, and of the Church of England in particular, [510]

The Bishops speedily agreed on an address of thanks for the royal
message, and requested the concurrence of the Lower House. Jane and
his adherents raised objection after objection. First they claimed the
privilege of presenting a separate address. When they were forced to
waive this claim, they refused to agree to any expression which imported
that the Church of England had any fellowship with any other Protestant
community. Amendments and reasons were sent backward and forward.
Conferences were held at which Burnet on one side and Jane on the other
were the chief speakers. At last, with great difficulty, a compromise
was made; and an address, cold and ungracious compared with that which
the Bishops had framed, was presented to the King in the Banqueting
House. He dissembled his vexation, returned a kind answer, and intimated
a hope that the assembly would now at length proceed to consider the
great question of Comprehension, [511]

Such however was not the intention of the leaders of the Lower House.
As soon as they were again in Henry the Seventh's Chapel, one of them
raised a debate about the nonjuring bishops. In spite of the unfortunate
scruple which those prelates entertained, they were learned and holy
men. Their advice might, at this conjuncture, be of the greatest service
to the Church. The Upper House was hardly an Upper House in the absence
of the Primate and of many of his most respectable suffragans. Could
nothing be done to remedy this evil? [512] Another member complained of
some pamphlets which had lately appeared, and in which the Convocation
was not treated with proper deference. The assembly took fire. Was it
not monstrous that this heretical and schismatical trash should be cried
by the hawkers about the streets, and should be exposed to sale in the
booths of Westminster Hall, within a hundred yards of the Prolocutor's
chair? The work of mutilating the Liturgy and of turning cathedrals into
conventicles might surely be postponed till the Synod had taken measures
to protect its own freedom and dignity. It was then debated how the
printing of such scandalous books should be prevented. Some were
for indictments, some for ecclesiastical censures, [513] In such
deliberations as these week after week passed away. Not a single
proposition tending to a Comprehension had been even discussed.
Christmas was approaching. At Christmas there was to be a recess. The
Bishops were desirous that, during the recess, a committee should sit to
prepare business. The Lower House refused to consent, [514] That House,
it was now evident, was fully determined not even to enter on the
consideration of any part of the plan which had been framed by the Royal
Commissioners. The proctors of the dioceses were in a worse humour than
when they first came up to Westminster. Many of them had probably never
before passed a week in the capital, and had not been aware how great
the difference was between a town divine and a country divine. The sight
of the luxuries and comforts enjoyed by the popular preachers of the
city raised, not unnaturally, some sore feeling in a Lincolnshire or
Caernarvonshire vicar who was accustomed to live as hardly as small
farmer. The very circumstance that the London clergy were generally for
a comprehension made the representatives of the rural clergy obstinate
on the other side, [515] The prelates were, as a body, sincerely
desirous that some concession might be made to the nonconformists. But
the prelates were utterly unable to curb the mutinous democracy. They
were few in number. Some of them were objects of extreme dislike to the
parochial clergy. The President had not the full authority of a primate;
nor was he sorry to see those who had, as he concerned, used him ill,
thwarted and mortified. It was necessary to yield. The Convocation
was prorogued for six weeks. When those six weeks had expired, it was
prorogued again; and many years elapsed before it was permitted to
transact business.

So ended, and for ever, the hope that the Church of England might be
induced to make some concession to the scruples of the nonconformists. A
learned and respectable minority of the clerical order relinquished
that hope with deep regret. Yet in a very short time even Barnet and
Tillotson found reason to believe that their defeat was really an
escape, and that victory would have been a disaster. A reform, such as,
in the days of Elizabeth, would have united the great body of English
Protestants, would, in the days of William, have alienated more hearts
than it would have conciliated. The schism which the oaths had produced
was, as yet, insignificant. Innovations such as those proposed by the
Royal Commissioners would have given it a terrible importance. As yet
a layman, though he might think the proceedings of the Convention
unjustifiable, and though he might applaud the virtue of the nonjuring
clergy, still continued to sit under the accustomed pulpit, and to kneel
at the accustomed altar. But if, just at this conjuncture, while his
mind was irritated by what he thought the wrong done to his favourite
divines, and while he was perhaps doubting whether he ought not to
follow them, his ears and eyes had been shocked by changes in the
worship to which he was fondly attached, if the compositions of
the doctors of the Jerusalem Chamber had taken the place of the old
collects, if he had seen clergymen without surplices carrying the
chalice and the paten up and down the aisle to seated communicants, the
tie which bound him to the Established Church would have been dissolved.
He would have repaired to some nonjuring assembly, where the service
which he loved was performed without mutilation. The new sect, which
as yet consisted almost exclusively of priests, would soon have been
swelled by numerous and large congregations; and in those congregations
would have been found a much greater proportion of the opulent, of the
highly descended, and of the highly educated, than any other body of
dissenters could show. The Episcopal schismatics, thus reinforced, would
probably have been as formidable to the new King and his successors as
ever the Puritan schismatics had been to the princes of the House of
Stuart. It is an indisputable and a most instructive fact, that we are,
in a great measure, indebted for the civil and religious liberty which
we enjoy to the pertinacity with which the High Church party, in
the Convocation of 1689, refused even to deliberate on any plan of
Comprehension, [516]




CHAPTER XV

The Parliament meets; Retirement of Halifax--Supplies voted--The Bill
of Rights passed--Inquiry into Naval Abuses--Inquiry into the Conduct of
the Irish War--Reception of Walker in England--Edmund Ludlow--Violence
of the Whigs--Impeachments--Committee of Murder--Malevolence of John
Hampden--The Corporation Bill--Debates on the Indemnity Bill--Case of
Sir Robert Sawyer--The King purposes to retire to Holland--He is induced
to change his Intention; the Whigs oppose his going to Ireland--He
prorogues the Parliament--Joy of the Tories--Dissolution and General
Election--Changes in the Executive Departments--Caermarthen Chief
Minister--Sir John Lowther--Rise and Progress of Parliamentary
Corruption in England--Sir John Trevor--Godolphin retires; Changes at
the Admiralty--Changes in the Commissions of Lieutenancy--Temper of
the Whigs; Dealings of some Whigs with Saint Germains; Shrewsbury;
Ferguson--Hopes of the Jacobites--Meeting of the new Parliament;
Settlement of the Revenue--Provision for the Princess of Denmark--Bill
declaring the Acts of the preceding Parliament valid--Debate on the
Changes in the Lieutenancy of London--Abjuration Bill--Act of Grace--The
Parliament prorogued; Preparations for the first War--Administration of
James at Dublin--An auxiliary Force sent from France to Ireland--Plan
of the English Jacobites; Clarendon, Aylesbury,
Dartmouth--Penn--Preston--The Jacobites betrayed by Fuller--Crone
arrested--Difficulties of William--Conduct of Shrewsbury--The Council of
Nine--Conduct of Clarendon--Penn held to Bail--Interview between William
and Burnet; William sets out for Ireland--Trial of Crone--Danger of
Invasion and Insurrection; Tourville's Fleet in the--Channel--Arrests
of suspected Persons--Torrington ordered to give Battle to
Tourville--Battle of Beachy Head--Alarm in London; Battle of
Fleurus--Spirit of the Nation--Conduct of Shrewsbury

WHILE the Convocation was wrangling on one side of Old Palace Yard, the
Parliament was wrangling even more fiercely on the other. The Houses,
which had separated on the twentieth of August, had met again on the
nineteenth of October. On the day of meeting an important change struck
every eye. Halifax was no longer on the woolsack. He had reason to
expect that the persecution, from which in the preceding session he had
narrowly escaped, would be renewed. The events which had taken place
during the recess, and especially the disasters of the campaign in
Ireland, had furnished his persecutors with fresh means of annoyance.
His administration had not been successful; and, though his failure was
partly to be ascribed to causes against which no human wisdom could have
contended, it was also partly to be ascribed to the peculiarities of his
temper and of his intellect. It was certain that a large party in the
Commons would attempt to remove him; and he could no longer depend
on the protection of his master. It was natural that a prince who was
emphatically a man of action should become weary of a minister who was a
man of speculation. Charles, who went to Council as he went to the play,
solely to be amused, was delighted with an adviser who had a hundred
pleasant and ingenious things to say on both sides of every question.
But William had no taste for disquisitions and disputations, however
lively and subtle, which occupied much time and led to no conclusion. It
was reported, and is not improbable, that on one occasion he could
not refrain from expressing in sharp terms at the council board his
impatience at what seemed to him a morbid habit of indecision, [517]
Halifax, mortified by his mischances in public life, dejected by
domestic calamities, disturbed by apprehensions of an impeachment, and
no longer supported by royal favour, became sick of public life,
and began to pine for the silence and solitude of his seat in
Nottinghamshire, an old Cistercian Abbey buried deep among woods. Early
in October it was known that he would no longer preside in the Upper
House. It was at the same time whispered as a great secret that he meant
to retire altogether from business, and that he retained the Privy Seal
only till a successor should be named. Chief Baron Atkyns was appointed
Speaker of the Lords, [518]

On some important points there appeared to be no difference of opinion
in the legislature. The Commons unanimously resolved that they would
stand by the King in the work of reconquering Ireland, and that they
would enable him to prosecute with vigour the war against France, [519]
With equal unanimity they voted an extraordinary supply of two millions,
[520] It was determined that the greater part of this sum should be
levied by an assessment on real property. The rest was to be raised
partly by a poll tax, and partly by new duties on tea, coffee and
chocolate. It was proposed that a hundred thousand pounds should be
exacted from the Jews; and this proposition was at first favourably
received by the House: but difficulties arose. The Jews presented a
petition in which they declared that they could not afford to pay such a
sum, and that they would rather leave the kingdom than stay there to
be ruined. Enlightened politicians could not but perceive that special
taxation, laid on a small class which happens to be rich, unpopular and
defenceless, is really confiscation, and must ultimately improverish
rather than enrich the State. After some discussion, the Jew tax was
abandoned, [521]

The Bill of Rights, which, in the last Session, had, after causing
much altercation between the Houses, been suffered to drop, was again
introduced, and was speedily passed. The peers no longer insisted that
any person should be designated by name as successor to the crown, if
Mary, Anne and William should all die without posterity. During eleven
years nothing more was heard of the claims of the House of Brunswick.

The Bill of Rights contained some provisions which deserve special
mention. The Convention had resolved that it was contrary to the
interest of the kingdom to be governed by a Papist, but had prescribed
no test which could ascertain whether a prince was or was not a Papist.
The defect was now supplied. It was enacted that every English sovereign
should, in full Parliament, and at the coronation, repeat and subscribe
the Declaration against Transubstantiation.

It was also enacted that no person who should marry a Papist should be
capable of reigning in England, and that, if the Sovereign should marry
a Papist, the subject should be absolved from allegiance. Burnet boasts
that this part of the Bill of Rights was his work. He had little reason
to boast: for a more wretched specimen of legislative workmanship will
not easily be found. In the first place, no test is prescribed. Whether
the consort of a Sovereign has taken the oath of supremacy, has signed
the declaration against transubstantiation, has communicated according
to the ritual of the Church of England, are very simple issues of
fact. But whether the consort of a Sovereign is or is not a Papist is
a question about which people may argue for ever. What is a Papist?
The word is not a word of definite signification either in law or in
theology. It is merely a popular nickname, and means very different
things in different mouths. Is every person a Papist who is willing to
concede to the Bishop of Rome a primacy among Christian prelates? If so,
James the First, Charles the First, Laud, Heylyn, were Papists, [522] Or
is the appellation to be confined to persons who hold the ultramontane
doctrines touching the authority of the Holy See? If so, neither Bossuet
nor Pascal was a Papist.

What again is the legal effect of the words which absolve the subject
from his allegiance? Is it meant that a person arraigned for high
treason may tender evidence to prove that the Sovereign has married
a Papist? Would Whistlewood, for example, have been entitled to an
acquittal, if he could have proved that King George the Fourth had
married Mrs. Fitzherbert, and that Mrs. Fitzherbert was a Papist? It
is not easy to believe that any tribunal would have gone into such a
question.
Yet to what purpose is it to enact that, in a certain case,
the subject shall be absolved from his allegiance, if the tribunal
before which he is tried for a violation of his allegiance is not to go
into the question whether that case has arisen?

The question of the dispensing power was treated in a very different
manner, was fully considered, and was finally settled in the only way in
which it could be settled. The Declaration of Right had gone no further
than to pronounce that the dispensing power, as of late exercised, was
illegal. That a certain dispensing power belonged to the Crown was a
proposition sanctioned by authorities and precedents of which even Whig
lawyers could not speak without respect; but as to the precise extent
of this power hardly any two jurists were agreed; and every attempt
to frame a definition had failed. At length by the Bill of Rights the
anomalous prerogative which had caused so many fierce disputes was
absolutely and for ever taken away, [523]

In the House of Commons there was, as might have been expected, a series
of sharp debates on the misfortunes of the autumn. The negligence
or corruption of the Navy Board, the frauds of the contractors, the
rapacity of the captains of the King's ships, the losses of the London
merchants, were themes for many keen speeches. There was indeed reason
for anger. A severe inquiry, conducted by William in person at the
Treasury, had just elicited the fact that much of the salt with which
the meat furnished to the fleet had been cured had been by accident
mixed with galls such as are used for the purpose of making ink.
The victuallers threw the blame on the rats, and maintained that the
provisions thus seasoned, though certainly disagreeable to the palate,
were not injurious to health, [524] The Commons were in no temper
to listen to such excuses. Several persons who had been concerned
in cheating the government and poisoning the sailors were taken into
custody by the Serjeant, [525] But no censure was passed on the chief
offender, Torrington, nor does it appear that a single voice was raised
against him. He had personal friends in both parties. He had many
popular qualities. Even his vices were not those which excite public
hatred. The people readily forgave a courageous openhanded sailor for
being too fond of his bottle, his boon companions and his mistresses and
did not sufficiently consider how great must be the perils of a country
of which the safety depends on a man sunk in indolence, stupified by
wine, enervated by licentiousness, ruined by prodigality, and enslaved
by sycophants and harlots.

The sufferings of the army in Ireland called forth strong expressions
of sympathy and indignation. The Commons did justice to the firmness
and wisdom with which Schomberg had conducted the most arduous of all
campaigns. That he had not achieved more was attributed chiefly to the
villany of the Commissariat. The pestilence itself it was said, would
have been no serious calamity if it had not been aggravated by the
wickedness of man. The disease had generally spared those who had warm
garments and bedding, and had swept away by thousands those who were
thinly clad and who slept on the wet ground. Immense sums had been drawn
out of the Treasury: yet the pay of the troops was in arrear. Hundreds
of horses, tens of thousands of shoes, had been paid for by the public:
yet the baggage was left behind for want of beasts to draw it; and the
soldiers were marching barefoot through the mire. Seventeen hundred
pounds had been charged to the government for medicines: yet the common
drugs with which every apothecary in the smallest market town was
provided were not to be found in the plaguestricken camp. The cry
against Shales was loud. An address was carried to the throne,
requesting that he might be sent for to England, and that his accounts
and papers might be secured. With this request the King readily
complied; but the Whig majority was not satisfied. By whom had Shales
been recommended for so important a place as that of Commissary General?
He had been a favourite at Whitehall in the worst times. He had been
zealous for the Declaration of Indulgence. Why had this creature of
James been entrusted with the business of catering for the army of
William? It was proposed by some of those who were bent on driving all
Tories and Trimmers from office to ask His Majesty by whose advice a
man so undeserving of the royal confidence had been employed. The most
moderate and judicious Whigs pointed out the indecency and impolicy
of interrogating the King, and of forcing him either to accuse his
ministers or to quarrel with the representatives of his people. "Advise
His Majesty, if you will," said Somers, "to withdraw his confidence
from the counsellors who recommended this unfortunate appointment. Such
advice, given, as we should probably give it, unanimously, must have
great weight with him. But do not put to him a question such as no
private gentleman would willingly answer. Do not force him, in defence
of his own personal dignity, to protect the very men whom you wish him
to discard. " After a hard fight of two days, and several divisions, the
address was carried by a hundred and ninety five votes to a hundred and
forty six, [526] The King, as might have been foreseen, coldly refused
to turn informer; and the House did not press him further, [527] To
another address, which requested that a Commission might be sent to
examine into the state of things in Ireland, William returned a very
gracious answer, and desired the Commons to name the Commissioners. The
Commons, not to be outdone in courtesy, excused themselves, and left it
to His Majesty's wisdom to select the fittest persons, [528]

In the midst of the angry debates on the Irish war a pleasing incident
produced for a moment goodhumour and unanimity. Walker had arrived in
London, and had been received there with boundless enthusiasm. His
face was in every print shop. Newsletters describing his person and his
demeanour were sent to every corner of the kingdom. Broadsides of
prose and verse written in his praise were cried in every street. The
Companies of London feasted him splendidly in their halls. The common
people crowded to gaze on him wherever he moved, and almost stifled him
with rough caresses. Both the Universities offered him the degree of
Doctor of Divinity. Some of his admirers advised him to present himself
at the palace in that military garb in which he had repeatedly headed
the sallies of his fellow townsmen. But, with a better judgment than
he sometimes showed, he made his appearance at Hampton Court in the
peaceful robe of his profession, was most graciously received, and was
presented with an order for five thousand pounds. "And do not think,
Doctor," William said, with great benignity, "that I offer you this sum
as payment for your services. I assure you that I consider your claims
on me as not at all diminished. " [529]

It is true that amidst the general applause the voice of detraction made
itself heard. The defenders of Londonderry were men of two nations
and of two religions. During the siege, hatred of the Irishry had
held together all Saxons; and hatred of Popery had held together all
Protestants. But, when the danger was over, the Englishman and the
Scotchman, the Episcopalian and the Presbyterian, began to wrangle about
the distribution of praises and rewards. The dissenting preachers, who
had zealously assisted Walker in the hour of peril, complained that,
in the account which he published of the siege, he had, though
acknowledging that they had done good service, omitted to mention
their names. The complaint was just; and, had it been made in language
becoming Christians and gentlemen, would probably have produced a
considerable effect on the public mind. But Walker's accusers in their
resentment disregarded truth and decency, used scurrilous language,
brought calumnious accusations which were triumphantly refuted, and
thus threw away the advantage which they had possessed. Walker defended
himself with moderation and candour. His friends fought his battle with
vigour, and retaliated keenly on his assailants. At Edinburgh perhaps
the public opinion might have been against him. But in London the
controversy seems only to have raised his character. He was regarded
as an Anglican divine of eminent merit, who, after having heroically
defended his religion against an army of Popish Rapparees, was rabbled
by a mob of Scotch Covenanters, [530]

He presented to the Commons a petition setting forth the destitute
condition to which the widows and orphans of some brave men who had
fallen during the siege were now reduced. The Commons instantly passed
a vote of thanks to him, and resolved to present to the King an address
requesting that ten thousand pounds might be distributed among the
families whose sufferings had been so touchingly described. The next day
it was rumoured about the benches that Walker was in the lobby. He was
called in. The Speaker, with great dignity and grace, informed him that
the House had made haste to comply with his request, commended him
in high terms for having taken on himself to govern and defend a city
betrayed by its proper governors and defenders, and charged him to tell
those who had fought under him that their fidelity and valour would
always be held in grateful remembrance by the Commons of England, [531]

About the same time the course of parliamentary business was diversified
by another curious and interesting episode, which, like the former,
sprang out of the events of the Irish war. In the preceding spring,
when every messenger from Ireland brought evil tidings, and when the
authority of James was acknowledged in every part of that kingdom,
except behind the ramparts of Londonderry and on the banks of Lough
Erne, it was natural that Englishmen should remember with how terrible
an energy the great Puritan warriors of the preceding generation had
crushed the insurrection of the Celtic race. The names of Cromwell, of
Ireton, and of the other chiefs of the conquering army, were in many
mouths. One of those chiefs, Edmund Ludlow, was still living. At
twenty-two he had served as a volunteer in the parliamentary army; at
thirty he had risen to the rank of Lieutenant General. He was now old;
but the vigour of his mind was unimpaired. His courage was of the
truest temper; his understanding strong, but narrow. What he saw he
saw clearly: but he saw not much at a glance. In an age of perfidy and
levity, he had, amidst manifold temptations and dangers, adhered firmly
to the principles of his youth. His enemies could not deny that his life
had been consistent, and that with the same spirit with which he had
stood up against the Stuarts he had stood up against the Cromwells.
There was but a single blemish on his fame: but that blemish, in the
opinion of the great majority of his countrymen, was one for which no
merit could compensate and which no time could efface. His name and seal
were on the death warrant of Charles the First.

After the Restoration, Ludlow found a refuge on the shores of the Lake
of Geneva. He was accompanied thither by another member of the High
Court of Justice, John Lisle, the husband of that Alice Lisle whose
death has left a lasting stain on the memory of James the Second. But
even in Switzerland the regicides were not safe. A large price was
set on their heads; and a succession of Irish adventurers, inflamed by
national and religious animosity, attempted to earn the bribe. Lisle
fell by the hand of one of these assassins. But Ludlow escaped unhurt
from all the machinations of his enemies. A small knot of vehement and
determined Whigs regarded him with a veneration, which increased as
years rolled away, and left him almost the only survivor, certainly the
most illustrious survivor, of a mighty race of men, the conquerors in
a terrible civil war, the judges of a king, the founders of a republic.
More than once he had been invited by the enemies of the House of Stuart
to leave his asylum, to become their captain, and to give the signal for
rebellion: but he had wisely refused to take any part in the desperate
enterprises which the Wildmans and Fergusons were never weary of
planning, [532]

The Revolution opened a new prospect to him. The right of the people to
resist oppression, a right which, during many years, no man could
assert without exposing himself to ecclesiastical anathemas and to civil
penalties, had been solemnly recognised by the Estates of the realm, and
had been proclaimed by Garter King at Arms on the very spot where the
memorable scaffold had been set up forty years before. James had not,
indeed, like Charles, died the death of a traitor. Yet the punishment of
the son might seem to differ from the punishment of the father rather in
degree than in principle. Those who had recently waged war on a tyrant,
who had turned him out of his palace, who had frightened him out of his
country, who had deprived him of his crown, might perhaps think that the
crime of going one step further had been sufficiently expiated by thirty
years of banishment. Ludlow's admirers, some of whom appear to have
been in high public situations, assured him that he might safely venture
over, nay, that he might expect to be sent in high command to Ireland,
where his name was still cherished by his old soldiers and by their
children, [533] He came and early in September it was known that he
was in London, [534] But it soon appeared that he and his friends had
misunderstood the temper of the English people. By all, except a small
extreme section of the Whig party, the act, in which he had borne a part
never to be forgotten, was regarded, not merely with the disapprobation
due to a great violation of law and justice, but with horror such as
even the Gunpowder Plot had not excited. The absurd and almost impious
service which is still read in our churches on the thirtieth of January
had produced in the minds of the vulgar a strange association of ideas.
The sufferings of Charles were confounded with the sufferings of the
Redeemer of mankind; and every regicide was a Judas, a Caiaphas or a
Herod. It was true that, when Ludlow sate on the tribunal in Westminster
Hall, he was an ardent enthusiast of twenty eight, and that he now
returned from exile a greyheaded and wrinkled man in his seventieth
year. Perhaps, therefore, if he had been content to live in close
retirement, and to shun places of public resort, even zealous Royalists
might not have grudged the old Republican a grave in his native soil.
But he had no thought of hiding himself. It was soon rumoured that one
of those murderers, who had brought on England guilt, for which she
annually, in sackcloth and ashes, implored God not to enter into
judgment with her, was strutting about the streets of her capital, and
boasting that he should ere long command her armies. His lodgings, it
was said, were the head quarters of the most noted enemies of monarchy
and episcopacy, [535] The subject was brought before the House of
Commons. The Tory members called loudly for justice on the traitor. None
of the Whigs ventured to say a word in his defence. One or two faintly
expressed a doubt whether the fact of his return had been proved by
evidence such as would warrant a parliamentary proceeding. The objection
was disregarded. It was resolved, without a division, that the King
should be requested to issue a proclamation for the apprehending of
Ludlow. Seymour presented the address; and the King promised to do what
was asked. Some days however elapsed before the proclamation appeared,
[536] Ludlow had time to make his escape, and again hid himself in his
Alpine retreat, never again to emerge. English travellers are still
taken to see his house close to the lake, and his tomb in a church among
the vineyards which overlook the little town of Vevay. On the house was
formerly legible an inscription purporting that to him to whom God is a
father every land is a fatherland; [537] and the epitaph on the tomb
still attests the feelings with which the stern old Puritan to the last
regarded the people of Ireland and the House of Stuart.

Tories and Whigs had concurred, or had affected to concur, in paying
honour to Walker and in putting a brand on Ludlow. But the feud between
the two parties was more bitter than ever. The King had entertained a
hope that, during the recess, the animosities which had in the preceding
session prevented an Act of Indemnity from passing would have been
mitigated. On the day on which the Houses reassembled, he had pressed
them earnestly to put an end to the fear and discord which could never
cease to exist, while great numbers held their property and their
liberty, and not a few even their lives, by an uncertain tenure. His
exhortation proved of no effect. October, November, December passed
away; and nothing was done. An Indemnity Bill indeed had been brought
in, and read once; but it had ever since lain neglected on the table of
the House, [538] Vindictive as had been the mood in which the Whigs had
left Westminster, the mood in which they returned was more vindictive
still. Smarting from old sufferings, drunk with recent prosperity,
burning with implacable resentment, confident of irresistible strength,
they were not less rash and headstrong than in the days of the Exclusion
Bill. Sixteen hundred and eighty was come again. Again all compromise
was rejected. Again the voices of the wisest and most upright friends
of liberty were drowned by the clamour of hotheaded and designing
agitators. Again moderation was despised as cowardice, or execrated as
treachery. All the lessons taught by a cruel experience were forgotten.
The very same men who had expiated, by years of humiliation, of
imprisonment, of penury, of exile, the folly with which they had misused
the advantage given them by the Popish plot, now misused with equal
folly the advantage given them by the Revolution. The second madness
would, in all probability, like the first, have ended in their
proscription, dispersion, decimation, but for the magnanimity and
wisdom of that great prince, who, bent on fulfilling his mission, and
insensible alike to flattery and to outrage, coldly and inflexibly saved
them in their own despite.

It seemed that nothing but blood would satisfy them. The aspect and
the temper of the House of Commons reminded men of the time of
the ascendency of Oates; and, that nothing might be wanting to the
resemblance, Oates himself was there. As a witness, indeed, he could now
render no service: but he had caught the scent of carnage, and came to
gloat on the butchery in which he could no longer take an active part.
His loathsome features were again daily seen, and his well known "Ah
Laard, ah Laard! " was again daily heard in the lobbies and in the
gallery, [539] The House fell first on the renegades of the late reign.
Of those renegades the Earls of Peterborough and Salisbury were the
highest in rank, but were also the lowest in intellect: for Salisbury
had always been an idiot; and Peterborough had long been a dotard. It
was however resolved by the Commons that both had, by joining the Church
of Rome, committed high treason, and that both should be impeached,
[540] A message to that effect was sent to the Lords. Poor old
Peterborough was instantly taken into custody, and was sent, tottering
on a crutch, and wrapped up in woollen stuffs, to the Tower. The next
day Salisbury was brought to the bar of his peers. He muttered something
about his youth and his foreign education, and was then sent to bear
Peterborough company, [541] The Commons had meanwhile passed on to
offenders of humbler station and better understanding. Sir Edward Hales
was brought before them. He had doubtless, by holding office in defiance
of the Test Act, incurred heavy penalties. But these penalties fell far
short of what the revengeful spirit of the victorious party demanded;
and he was committed as a traitor, [542] Then Obadiah Walker was led in.
He behaved with a pusillanimity and disingenuousness which deprived him
of all claim to respect or pity. He protested that he had never changed
his religion, that his opinions had always been and still were those of
some highly respectable divines of the Church of England, and that there
were points on which he differed from the Papists. In spite of this
quibbling, he was pronounced guilty of high treason, and sent to prison,
[543] Castlemaine was put next to the bar, interrogated, and committed
under a warrant which charged him with the capital crime of trying to
reconcile the kingdom to the Church of Rome, [544]

In the meantime the Lords had appointed a Committee to Inquire who
were answerable for the deaths of Russell, of Sidney, and of some other
eminent Whigs. Of this Committee, which was popularly called the Murder
Committee, the Earl of Stamford, a Whig who had been deeply concerned in
the plots formed by his party against the Stuarts, was chairman, [545]
The books of the Council were inspected: the clerks of the Council were
examined: some facts disgraceful to the Judges, to the Solicitors of
the Treasury, to the witnesses for the Crown, and to the keepers of the
state prisons, were elicited: but about the packing of the juries no
evidence could be obtained. The Sheriffs kept their own counsel. Sir
Dudley North, in particular, underwent a most severe cross examination
with characteristic clearness of head and firmness of temper, and
steadily asserted that he had never troubled himself about the political
opinions of the persons whom he put on any panel, but had merely
inquired whether they were substantial citizens. He was undoubtedly
lying; and so some of the Whig peers told him in very plain words and
in very loud tones: but, though they were morally certain of his guilt,
they could find no proofs which would support a criminal charge against
him. The indelible stain however remains on his memory, and is still a
subject of lamentation to those who, while loathing his dishonesty and
cruelty, cannot forget that he was one of the most original, profound
and accurate thinkers of his age, [546]

Halifax, more fortunate than Dudley North, was completely cleared, not
only from legal, but also from moral guilt. He was the chief object of
attack; and yet a severe examination brought nothing to light that was
not to his honour. Tillotson was called as a witness. He swore that he
had been the channel of communication between Halifax and Russell when
Russell was a prisoner in the Tower. "My Lord Halifax," said the Doctor,
"showed a very compassionate concern for my Lord Russell; and my Lord
Russell charged me with his last thanks for my Lord Halifax's humanity
and kindness. " It was proved that the unfortunate Duke of Monmouth had
borne similar testimony to Halifax's good nature. One hostile witness
indeed was produced, John Hampden, whose mean supplications and enormous
bribes had saved his neck from the halter. He was now a powerful and
prosperous man: he was a leader of the dominant party in the House of
Commons; and yet he was one of the most unhappy beings on the face of
the earth. The recollection of the pitiable figure which he had made
at the bar of the Old Bailey embittered his temper, and impelled him
to avenge himself without mercy on those who had directly or indirectly
contributed to his humiliation. Of all the Whigs he was the most
intolerant and the most obstinately hostile to all plans of amnesty.
The consciousness that he had disgraced himself made him jealous of his
dignity and quick to take offence. He constantly paraded his services
and his sufferings, as if he hoped that this ostentatious display would
hide from others the stain which nothing could hide from himself. Having
during many months harangued vehemently against Halifax in the House
of Commons, he now came to swear against Halifax before the Lords. The
scene was curious. The witness represented himself as having saved
his country, as having planned the Revolution, as having placed their
Majesties on the throne. He then gave evidence intended to show that his
life had been endangered by the machinations of the Lord Privy Seal: but
that evidence missed the mark at which it was aimed, and recoiled on him
from whom it proceeded. Hampden was forced to acknowledge that he had
sent his wife to implore the intercession of the man whom he was now
persecuting. "Is it not strange," asked Halifax, "that you should have
requested the good offices of one whose arts had brought your head into
peril? " "Not at all," said Hampden; "to whom was I to apply except to
the men who were in power? I applied to Lord Jeffreys: I applied to
Father Petre; and I paid them six thousand pounds for their services. "
"But did Lord Halifax take any money? " "No, I cannot say that he did. "
"And, Mr. Hampden, did not you afterwards send your wife to thank him
for his kindness? " "Yes, I believe I did," answered Hampden; "but I know
of no solid effects of that kindness. If there were any, I should be
obliged to my Lord to tell me what they were. " Disgraceful as had been
the appearance which this degenerate heir of an illustrious name
had made at the Old Bailey, the appearance which he made before the
Committee of Murder was more disgraceful still, [547] It is pleasing to
know that a person who had been far more cruelly wronged than he, but
whose nature differed widely from his, the nobleminded Lady Russell,
remonstrated against the injustice with which the extreme Whigs treated
Halifax, [548]

The malice of John Hampden, however, was unwearied and unabashed. A few
days later, in a committee of the whole House of Commons on the state
of the nation, he made a bitter speech, in which he ascribed all the
disasters of the year to the influence of the men who had, in the days
of the Exclusion Bill, been censured by Parliaments, of the men who had
attempted to mediate between James and William. The King, he said, ought
to dismiss from his counsels and presence all the three noblemen who had
been sent to negotiate with him at Hungerford. He went on to speak
of the danger of employing men of republican principles. He doubtless
alluded to the chief object of his implacable malignity. For Halifax,
though from temper averse to violent changes, was well known to be in
speculation a republican, and often talked, with much ingenuity and
pleasantry, against hereditary monarchy. The only effect, however, of
the reflection now thrown on him was to call forth a roar of derision.
That a Hampden, that the grandson of the great leader of the Long
Parliament, that a man who boasted of having conspired with Algernon
Sidney against the royal House, should use the word republican as a term
of reproach! When the storm of laughter had subsided, several members
stood up to vindicate the accused statesmen. Seymour declared that, much
as he disapproved of the manner in which the administration had lately
been conducted, he could not concur in the vote which John Hampden had
proposed. "Look where you will," he said, "to Ireland, to Scotland, to
the navy, to the army, you will find abundant proofs of mismanagement.
If the war is still to be conducted by the same hands, we can expect
nothing but a recurrence of the same disasters. But I am not prepared to
proscribe men for the best thing that they ever did in their lives, to
proscribe men for attempting to avert a revolution by timely mediation. "
It was justly said by another speaker that Halifax and Nottingham had
been sent to the Dutch camp because they possessed the confidence of
the nation, because they were universally known to be hostile to the
dispensing power, to the Popish religion, and to the French ascendency.
It was at length resolved that the King should be requested in general
terms to find out and to remove the authors of the late miscarriages,
[549] A committee was appointed to prepare an Address. John Hampden was
chairman, and drew up a representation in terms so bitter that, when it
was reported to the House, his own father expressed disapprobation, and
one member exclaimed: "This an address! It is a libel. " After a sharp
debate, the Address was recommitted, and was not again mentioned, [550]

Indeed, the animosity which a large part of the House had felt against
Halifax was beginning to abate. It was known that, though he had not yet
formally delivered up the Privy Seal, he had ceased to be a confidential
adviser of the Crown. The power which he had enjoyed during the first
months of the reign of William and Mary had passed to the more daring,
more unscrupulous and more practical Caermarthen, against whose
influence Shrewsbury contended in vain. Personally Shrewsbury stood high
in the royal favour: but he was a leader of the Whigs, and, like all
leaders of parties, was frequently pushed forward against his will by
those who seemed to follow him. He was himself inclined to a mild and
moderate policy: but he had not sufficient firmness to withstand the
clamorous importunity with which such politicians as John Howe and John
Hampden demanded vengeance on their enemies. His advice had therefore,
at this time, little weight with his master, who neither loved the
Tories nor trusted them, but who was fully determined not to proscribe
them.

Meanwhile the Whigs, conscious that they had lately sunk in the opinion
both of the King and of the nation, resolved on making a bold and crafty
attempt to become independent of both. A perfect account of that attempt
cannot be constructed out of the scanty and widely dispersed materials
which have come down to us. Yet the story, as it has come down to us, is
both interesting and instructive.

A bill for restoring the rights of those corporations which had
surrendered their charters to the Crown during the last two reigns had
been brought into the House of Commons, had been received with general
applause by men of all parties, had been read twice, and had been
referred to a select committee, of which Somers was chairman. On the
second of January Somers brought up the report. The attendance of Tories
was scanty: for, as no important discussion was expected, many country
gentlemen had left town, and were keeping a merry Christmas by the
chimney fires of their manor houses. The muster of zealous Whigs was
strong. As soon as the bill had been reported, Sacheverell, renowned in
the stormy parliaments of the reign of Charles the Second as one of the
ablest and keenest of the Exclusionists, stood up and moved to add a
clause providing that every municipal functionary who had in any manner
been a party to the surrendering of the franchises of a borough should
be incapable for seven years of holding any office in that borough.
The constitution of almost every corporate town in England had been
remodelled during that hot fit of loyalty which followed the detection
of the Rye House Plot; and, in almost every corporate town, the voice
of the Tories had been for delivering up the charter, and for trusting
every thing to the paternal care of the Sovereign. The effect of
Sacheverell's clause, therefore, was to make some thousands of the most
opulent and highly considered men in the kingdom incapable, during seven
years, of bearing any part in the government of the places in which
they resided, and to secure to the Whig party, during seven years, an
overwhelming influence in borough elections.

The minority exclaimed against the gross injustice of passing, rapidly
and by surprise, at a season when London was empty, a law of the highest
importance, a law which retrospectively inflicted a severe penalty on
many hundreds of respectable gentlemen, a law which would call forth the
strongest passions in every town from Berwick to St. Ives, a law which
must have a serious effect on the composition of the House itself.