ECCLESIASTICAL
HISTORY OF ENGLAND.

The Church of the Revolution.

BY

JOHN STOUGHTON, D.D.

London:

HODDER AND STOUGHTON,

27 & 31, PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C.

MDCCCLXXIV.

UNWIN BROTHERS, PRINTERS.

ADVERTISEMENT.

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

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

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

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

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

CONTENTS.

CONTENTS OF APPENDIX.

CHAPTER I.

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

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

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

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

EARLY DAYS OF WILLIAM

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

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

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

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

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

PRINCESS MARY IN HOLLAND.

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

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

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

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

PRINCESS MARY IN HOLLAND.

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

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

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

PREPARATIONS FOR REVOLUTION.

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

1688.

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

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

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

PREPARATIONS FOR REVOLUTION.

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

1688.

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

PREPARATIONS FOR REVOLUTION.

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

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

1688.

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

PREPARATIONS FOR REVOLUTION.

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

1688.

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

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

“May it please your Grace,

“Mr. Gilbert, the bearer, going for London, and being desirous of paying his duty to your Grace, I gave him this opportunity, as well to receive your blessing as to present you with the present state of the West. He is the laborious minister of Plymouth, who, by his courage, life, and doctrine, hath done a great deal of good in that town. I wish his Lordship the Bishop of Exeter had as fixt and steady resolutions, but his Lordship, acting according to a settled maxim of his own, I will be safe, had given order for the publishing the Declaration, notwithstanding the Bishop of Bath and Wells, and my letter to him; and was at last brought to recall them by the Dean’s sending him word, that if he would betray the Church, he should not the Cathedral; for he would rather be hanged at the doors of it, than that the Declaration should be read there, or in any part of his jurisdiction, which is large in the county. The gentry and clergy complained to me very much of the Bishop’s giving a church to the Mayor[16] for his Conventicle (in which the Declaration was read), and for his great respects to Mr. Beare, the last sessions, which gave great offence. Who this Mr. Beare is, Mr. Gilbert can give your Grace a full account. I had a long and warm argument with the Bishop, to divert him from waiting on the Judges and treating them,—setting at large before him what a malicious, wicked instrument Justice Bolduck was in our business; but all I said was to no purpose. However, the Dean and Chapter assured me, they would withdraw their civility, and not receive them either at the church or at an entertainment, as hath been customary. I hope I shall do some good with the gentry of Devonshire and Cornwall. I humbly beg your blessing, and remain,

“Yours Grace’s most obedient, humble servant,

“J. Bristol.”[17]

PREPARATIONS FOR REVOLUTION.

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

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

1688.

PREPARATIONS FOR REVOLUTION.

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

1688.

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

PREPARATIONS FOR REVOLUTION.

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

1688.

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

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

PREPARATIONS FOR REVOLUTION.

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

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

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

1688.

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

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

PREPARATIONS FOR REVOLUTION.

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

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

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

1688.

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

CHAPTER II.

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

1688.

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

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

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

THE CRISIS.

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

1688.

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

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

THE CRISIS.

1688.

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

THE CRISIS.

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

1688.

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

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

THE CRISIS.

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

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

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

1688.

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

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

THE CRISIS.

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

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

1688.

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

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

THE CRISIS.

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

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

1688.

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

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

THE CRISIS.

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

1688.

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

THE CRISIS.

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

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

1688.

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

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

THE CRISIS.

“May it please your Grace,

“His Majesty’s intimation to me, that he thought my presence would, if occasion required, very much influence his army, I could not take it for less than a command, and accordingly posted to Sarum, where I pressed him, with all imaginable arguments, to call a Parliament, as the most visible way to put a stop to those confusions which threatened the Government; and I left him in a far more inclinable disposition to it than I found him, and engaged several persons near him to second what I had attempted. The next day, which was Friday, I found that several of the troops were commanded towards London, and, waiting upon His Majesty, he told me he would be with me as to-morrow; so that, in order to his reception, I came yesterday from Sarum, which is a long journey of above forty miles, and I now understand that His Majesty comes not this way. This account of myself I thought proper to give your Grace, that I may receive the commands, which shall, with all duty, be obeyed by your son and servant.”[59]

1688.

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

THE CRISIS.

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

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

1688.

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

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

THE CRISIS.

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

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

1688.

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

THE CRISIS.

1688.

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

THE CRISIS.

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

1688.

THE CRISIS.

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

1688.

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

THE CRISIS.

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

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

1688.

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

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

THE CRISIS.

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

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

1688.

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

CHAPTER III.

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

1688.

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

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

CHARACTER OF THE REVOLUTION.

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

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

1689.

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

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

CHARACTER OF THE REVOLUTION.

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

1689.

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

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

CHARACTER OF THE REVOLUTION.

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

1689.

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

CHARACTER OF THE REVOLUTION.

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

1689.

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

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

CHARACTER OF THE REVOLUTION.

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

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

1689.

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

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

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

CHARACTER OF THE REVOLUTION.

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

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

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

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

1689.

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

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

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

CHARACTER OF THE REVOLUTION.

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

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

1689.

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

CHARACTER OF THE REVOLUTION.

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

1689.

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

CHARACTER OF THE REVOLUTION.

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

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

1689.

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

CHARACTER OF THE REVOLUTION.

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

1689.

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

CHARACTER OF THE REVOLUTION.

1689.

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

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

CHARACTER OF THE REVOLUTION.

1689.

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

CHARACTER OF THE REVOLUTION.

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

CHAPTER IV.

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

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

OATH OF ALLEGIANCE.

1689.

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

OATH OF ALLEGIANCE.

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

1689.

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

OATH OF ALLEGIANCE.

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

1689.

OATH OF ALLEGIANCE.

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

1689.

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

OATH OF ALLEGIANCE.

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

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

1689.

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

CORONATION.

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

1689.

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

COMPREHENSION.

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

The steps in reference to Comprehension may be conveniently considered first.

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

1689.

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

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

COMPREHENSION.

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

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

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

1689.

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

COMPREHENSION.

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

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

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

1689.

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

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

COMPREHENSION.

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

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

1689.

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

COMPREHENSION.

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

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

1689.