CHAPTER XVII.
1665.
THE PLAGUE.
This year appears as a terrible one in the annals of London.[461] Two men in Drury Lane had sickened in the previous December. Upon inquiry, headache, fever, burning sensations, dimness of sight, and livid spots had indicated that the Plague was in the capital of England. The intelligence soon spread. The weekly bills of mortality, for the next four months, exhibited an increase of deaths. The month of May showed that the disease was extending; and in the first week of July, 1006 persons fell victims to the destroyer. Men fled in terror; vehicles of all kinds thronged the highways, filled with those whose circumstances enabled them to change their abode; but multitudes, especially of the poorer class, remained, and, being crowded together in narrow streets and alleys, they were soon marked by the Angel of Death. The mortality reported from week to week rose from hundreds to thousands, until during the month of September, the terrific number of 10,000 occurred in one week. In one night, it is said, 4,000 expired. Shop after shop, and house after house was closed. The long red cross, with the words, "Lord, have mercy upon us" inscribed upon the door, indicated what was going on within. Watchmen stood armed with halberds, to prevent communication between the inmates and their neighbours. Instead of the crowds which once lined the thoroughfares, only a few persons crept cautiously in the middle of the road, fearful of contact with each other. "The highways were unoccupied, and the travellers walked through by-ways." A coach was rarely seen, save when, with curtains drawn, it conveyed some Plague-stricken mortal to the pest-house. Wagons, laden with timber or stone, had disappeared, for men had no heart to build; and the half-finished structure sunk into premature decay. Carts, bringing provision, were not suffered within the gates; markets were held in the outskirts, where the seller would not touch the buyer's money, until it had been purified by passing through a vessel of vinegar. Similar precautions were used at the post office, which was so fumed morning and evening,—whilst "letters were aired over vinegar,"—that the people employed in it could hardly see each other; but, says the writer, who mentions that fact, "had the contagion been catching by letters, they had been dead long ago."[462] Grass sprung up in the streets, and a fearful silence brooded over the wide desolation. London cries, sounds of music, the murmur of cheerful groups, and the din of business had ceased. The lonely passenger, as he walked along, shuddered at the shrieks of miserable beings tortured by disease, or at the still more awful silence. Doors and windows were left open—houses were empty—the inmates gone.
Some dropped in the streets; others had time to go to the next stall or porch, "and just sit down and die." Men, who drove the death-carts, perished on their way to the pit, or fell dead upon the corpses, which were tumbled into the place of burial. A person went home, hale and strong—at eventide there was trouble, and before the morning, he was not. As the mother nursed the babe, a purple spot appeared on her breast, and, in a short time, the helpless little one was clinging to its lifeless parent.
The real horrors of the Plague-year were augmented by imagination. Men saw in the heavens portentous forms, blazing stars, and angels with flaming swords; on the earth they discerned spectres in menacing attitudes. Some fancied themselves inspired. One of these fanatics made the streets ring with his cry, "Yet forty days, and London shall be destroyed." Another, with nothing but a girdle round his loins, and bearing a vessel of burning coals upon his head, appeared by night and by day, exclaiming, "Oh, the great and dreadful God!" There were individuals, as amidst the plague of Athens, "who spent their days in merriment and folly—who feared neither the displeasure of God, nor the laws of men—not the former, because they deemed it the same thing whether they worshipped or neglected to do so, seeing that all in common perished—not the latter, because no one expected his life would last till he received the punishment of his crimes;"[463] but the greater part of the population looked upon the calamity in the light of a Divine judgment, and trembled, with inexpressible fear, at the signs of God's displeasure.
1665.
A Proclamation appeared in July, appointing as a fast-day the 12th of that month; and, afterwards, the first Wednesday in every succeeding month, until the Plague should cease. Collections were ordered to be made on these occasions for relief of the sufferers; and also forms of morning and evening prayer were published by authority, together with "an exhortation fit for the time."[464]
It is more humiliating than surprising, to find how far political and ecclesiastical considerations became mingled with the prevailing alarm.
Charles issued a Proclamation to the Lord-Lieutenants of Counties, exhorting them to be extraordinarily watchful over all persons of seditious temper; to imprison those who gave ground for suspicion, and cause others to give security for good conduct on any jealousy of a commotion.[465] On the other hand it was affirmed, that at their meetings Nonconformists expressed a sense of the Lord's displeasure for the sins of His people, but made no reflections on the Government. Had the King heard their earnest prayers for God's mercy and favour, and their contrite confessions of sins, he would not, it was thought, regard them as unworthy of the indulgence which he seemed disposed to grant.[466]
THE PLAGUE.
Henchman, Bishop of London, wrote to Lord Arlington, expressing thanks for warnings relative to the disorders which would arise, should ejected ministers be allowed to occupy the vacant pulpits. The sober clergy, he says, remained in town, implying by the statement that others had fled; and he informs His Lordship that he had refused some who offered to supply destitute churches, suspecting them to be factious, although they promised to conform. Most of his officers had deserted him and gone down into the country; but he could not learn that any Nonconformist minister had invaded the City pulpits. He was glad that many who had never attended Divine worship before, now presented themselves at church.[467] The Bishop found it necessary to threaten with expulsion from their livings those who fled, if they did not resume their posts;[468] and Sheldon, in the midst of the Plague, issued a circular commanding the Bishops of his province to return the names of all ejected ministers; which returns are preserved in the Lambeth Library.[469] To his credit it should be recorded also, that in this season of visitation, he exerted himself for the temporal welfare of his fellow-creatures, though it does not appear that he manifested any great anxiety about their spiritual well-being.
He directed frequent collections to be made on behalf of those who were perishing for want of the necessaries of human life, "thousands of poor artisans being ready to starve." He wrote for help to the Archbishop of York, and he gave judicious instructions respecting the probate of wills—the large number of deaths having led to an undue granting of administrations, to the increase of the infection and the injury of people's estates. His Grace directed that all surrogations should be revoked; that the granting of administration and probate should be suspended for fourteen days at least, and that afterwards no administration or probate should pass, until the expiration of one fortnight following the departure of the deceased; an arrangement which was judged "to be a visible means to hinder the further dispersing of the pestilence, and to do a right and justice to the interested."[470]
1665.
Simon Patrick, who held the livings of Battersea and St. Paul's, Covent Garden, remained in London throughout the whole period. He studied, preached, visited the sick, and distributed alms; and upon a review of the awful season and his own peril, recorded the following words: "I had many heavenly meditations in my mind, and found the pleasure wherewith they filled the soul was far beyond all the pleasures of the flesh. Nor could I fancy anything that would last so long, nor give me such joy and delight, as those thoughts which I had of the other world, and the taste which God vouchsafed me of it."[471]
Vacant churches, neglected parishes, and excited multitudes presented opportunities of usefulness to some of the ejected ministers, of which, in spite of the Bishop's precautions, they were quick to avail themselves.
THE PLAGUE.
Thomas Vincent had been a student at Christ Church when Dr. Owen was Dean, and upon leaving the University, became chaplain to the Earl of Leicester. He succeeded Mr. Case in the living of St. Mary Magdalen, Milk Street, whence he was ejected by the Act of Uniformity. In his retirement he devoted himself to the study of the Bible, and committed to memory large portions of it, observing to his friends, that he did not know, but that they who had taken from him his pulpit, might, in time, take from him his Bible. When the Plague broke out he was residing at Islington; for some time it did not penetrate into that neighbourhood, but sympathy with sufferers, not far off, proved a stronger feeling than a regard for his own safety. Contrary to the advice of some of his friends, he devoted himself to the work of preaching and visiting, in districts where the pestilence prevailed; and he states, as remarkable,[472] that pious people "died with such comfort as Christians do not ordinarily arrive unto, except when they are called forth to suffer martyrdom for the testimony of Jesus Christ." So extraordinary was his preaching, that it became a general inquiry every week, where he would be on the following Sunday—and amongst the multitudes who crowded to listen to his ministry, many persons were awakened by his searching discourses. With a total disregard of the danger of such gatherings at such a time, people crowded large edifices to suffocation. The broad aisles, as well as the pews and benches, were packed with one dense mass—anxious countenances looked up to the Divine in his black cap; the reading of the Scriptures, the prayer, and the sermon, being listened to amidst a breathless silence, only broken at intervals by half-suppressed sobs and supplications.
1665.
Other methods of usefulness were employed. In a volume of broadsheets in the British Museum may be seen "Short Instructions for the Sick, especially who, by contagion or otherwise, are deprived of the presence of a faithful pastor, by Richard Baxter, written in the Great Plague Year,"—full of characteristic appeals, intended to be pasted on the cottage-wall, as a faithful monitor to all the inmates.
The malady in London began to decline in the latter part of September, and at the end of the year it ceased, when the City soon filled again, resuming its wonted aspect of activity and bustle, and the beneficed clergy who had fled reappeared in their pulpits. The minister of St. Olave's, where Pepys attended, was the first to leave, the last to return; and the minute chronicler informs us, that when he went with his wife to church, to hear this Divine preach to his long-neglected flock, he "made but a very poor and short excuse, and a bad sermon."[473]
The Plague, when it left London, visited, with its horrors, many other parts of England.
It is curious to find that the Corporation of Norwich gave orders to the parish clerks, not to toll for the dead, any bell, but one belonging to the parish in which the person died; because it had become a practice for the citizens in one parish to have the bells tolled for deceased friends in another parish, so that all the church steeples were sometimes ringing out a knell for the same individual.
THE PLAGUE.
As in London, so in the country, the ejected clergy[474] watched for opportunities of usefulness, but they were often thwarted in their laudable efforts. Owen Stockton, ejected at Colchester, when he saw many, "even the shepherds of the flock, hastening their flight," offered, if the magistrates "would indulge him the liberty of a public church, to stay and preach,"—"till either God should take him away by death, or cause the pestilence to cease." The magistrates had no power to set aside the law, and the privilege asked being denied, the Puritan confessor, from the study of the words in the Book of Isaiah—"Hide thyself as it were for a little moment until the indignation be overpast"—satisfied himself as to the lawfulness of removing from place to place, in time of peril, and hastened with his family to the retired village of Chattisham, in Suffolk.[475]
A touching story is told of a clergyman at Eyam, in Derbyshire. A box of cloth was sent from London to a tailor in the village, who, soon after he had emptied the package, fell sick, and died. The pestilence presently swept away all in his house except one. It spread from cottage to cottage, and a grave-stone remains to tell the story of seven persons of the name of Hancock, who died within eight days. As the churchyard did not suffice for the burial of the dead, graves were dug in the fields and upon the hill-side, where corpses were hastily interred. The clergyman was Mr. Mompesson, a young man of twenty-eight, whose wife, alarmed for the safety of her husband and their two children, besought him to flee, but he would not leave his flock. With heroic love, whilst seeking his safety, she exposed herself to imminent danger; and consenting to the removal of the children, resolved to abide in the parsonage, where they remained for seven months. In conjunction with the Earl of Devonshire, the patron of the living, the Incumbent arranged that all communication with neighbouring places should be cut off, that no one should go beyond a boundary marked by stones, where people came and left provisions, and where the buyer put his money in a vessel of water. Combining singular prudence with ardent zeal, Mompesson provided for the continuance of religious services, without hazarding the health of his parishioners by bringing them into a crowded church, and wisely performed Divine service in the open air. In Cucklet Dale, by the side of a running brook, with a rock for his pulpit, with craggy hills on one side, and lofty trees on the other for the walls of his temple, he assembled his flock for worship, and was wonderfully preserved from contagion; but just as the Plague began to decline, his noble wife fell a victim to its power.[476]
1665.
Nor let Thomas Stanley, a minister who had been ejected from the living of Eyam, be forgotten. He could not preach to the people whom he loved; but by visitation, advice, and prayer, he sought to promote their temporal and spiritual interests. Some looked with jealousy upon his efforts, and endeavoured to persuade the Earl of Devonshire to remove him from the place; but, whoever they were, the Earl was his friend, declaring it much more reasonable that the whole country should testify their thankfulness to such a spiritual benefactor.
These are instances of activity. There were also examples of endurance. Samuel Shaw, ejected from the rectory of Long Whatton, in Leicestershire, retired to the village of Coates, near Loughborough, and there engaged in agricultural pursuits for the support of his family. His fields were ripe for the sickle, the valleys were covered with corn, and the good man shared in Nature's joy, as he looked upon his quiet homestead, "little dreaming," as he tells us, "of the Plague, which was almost a hundred miles off." Some friends from London came down to see him, and brought the infection; soon the Plague-spot appeared, and touched one after another of his household, until all were smitten, and the farm-cottage became a pest-house. The master of the dwelling shut himself up for three months, tending the sick as far as his own health permitted; for he himself suffered from the fearful malady. Two of his children died, one of his servants died, two of his friends from London died: five out of ten were thus cut off. Yet, although enfeebled by sickness, having no one besides himself to perform the rites of sepulture, he turned his garden into a grave-yard, and with his own hands buried the dead.[477]
THE PLAGUE.
Driven from London by the Plague, the two Houses held their sittings in the Great Hall of Christ's Church, Oxford, where Charles I. had met his mock parliament.
The subject of the continued existence and of the alarming increase of Nonconformity again came upon the carpet. Instead of disinterested exertions, put forth by ejected ministers in a Plague-stricken country, being rewarded by commendation, jealousy was expressed respecting the manifestations of their zeal. It was odiously represented in parliamentary circles, that Dissenters in many places, "began to preach openly, not without reflecting on the sins of the Court, and on the ill-usage that they themselves had met with."[478] Prejudices were increased by reports to the effect, that Conventiclers in Scotland were bold and mutinous, and that they were supposed to have entered into treasonable correspondence with English Presbyterians;[479] at the same time, perhaps, circumstances pertaining to a new conflict with Holland, in which this country was then engaged, served to intensify these mischievous feelings.
1665.
The Dutch war, though not approved of by the King or by his Chancellor, found favour at Court with a party headed by the Duke of York, and was warmly supported by Parliament; besides which, an Act was passed for attainting the English who should continue to reside in Holland, or who should engage in the Dutch service.[480] Some of the fanatical Sectaries, it was alleged, entered that service, and were intending to take up arms against their King and their country; and, moreover, it was known that this war against the United Provinces incurred much unpopularity even with moderate Nonconformists. Influenced by such considerations, and also by reports, of which we have so many specimens, Archbishop Sheldon felt anxious to ascertain the numbers and the strength of these disaffected people—a project which he afterwards carried out, with results appearing at a later period. He not only issued orders, that Bishops should be careful what persons they received into the ministry: that in all things the canons concerning ordination should be observed: that all pluralists should be reported, with full particulars respecting their pluralities: that it should be certified to the Archbishop where lectures were set up, and who were the lecturers, and how they were "affected to the Government of His Majesty, and the doctrine and discipline of the Church of England:" but that information also should be returned respecting all schoolmasters and instructors of youth, and practisers of physic: and that the Bishops of his province should inform him what Nonconformist ministers in their dioceses had been ejected, what was their profession in life, and how they behaved themselves in relation to the peace and quiet, as well of the Church, as of the State; and also whether any such had removed from one diocese into another.[481]
FIVE MILE ACT.
Parliament now determined to deal another heavy blow at the obstinacy and insolence of Dissent. If there were in England people disposed to conspire against the Government, adequate means for detecting such persons existed: but, not satisfied with laws against treason, Parliament, under cover of putting an end to plots, passed a measure affecting men, against whom no reasonable suspicion whatever could be entertained.
The Five Mile Act—the measure to which we now refer—was passed in the month of October, 1665, and was entitled "An Act for restraining Nonconformists from inhabiting in corporations." It complained of persons taking upon themselves to preach to unlawful assemblies, under pretext of religion, in order to instil the poisonous principles of schism and rebellion into the hearts of His Majesty's subjects; and it imposed, more stringently than ever, the oath of non-resistance and passive obedience.
This was the form of the oath:—"I do swear that it is not lawful, upon any pretence whatsoever, to take arms against the King; and that I do abhor that traitorous position of taking arms by his authority against his person, or against those that are commissioned by him, in pursuance of such commissions; and that I will not at any time endeavour any alteration of Government, either in Church or State."
1665.
Failing to take this oath, Nonconformist ministers were forbidden after the 24th of March following, to come, except as passengers, within five miles of any corporate town or any place where, since the passing of the Act of Oblivion, they had been in the habit of officiating. A payment of forty pounds was prescribed as the penalty for offending against the Act; and those who refused the oath, and did not attend Divine service in the Established Church, incurred incapacity for exercising even the functions of a tutor. Any two county magistrates were empowered, upon oath to them of a violation of this law, to commit the transgressor to prison for six months.[482]
The Act of Uniformity had banished Nonconformist ministers from the parish pulpits; the Conventicle Act had broken up the congregations which these ministers had secretly gathered since St. Bartholomew's Day, 1662; and now by the Five Mile Act, these persons were forced into exile, and perhaps reduced to starvation.[483]
A spirit of retaliation may be traced in the new enactment. When the Presbyterian visitors, in the year 1646, took possession of the University, and the students proved rebellious, a military proclamation threatened that the refractory who tarried within five miles of the city, should be treated as spies.[484] And Cromwell had, by his ordinance in 1655, forbidden ejected ministers to attempt the business of education, or to officiate in their religious calling. Archbishop Sheldon, sitting from day to day in the Hall of Christ Church, as the Bill was read three times, might experience a gratified resentment as he called to mind the former five mile proclamation; and as he thought of his own expulsion from the Wardenship of All Souls', others might indulge in similar reminiscences and feelings.[485] But the revenge proceeded far beyond the provocation. What was done by the Oxford visitors, and those who supported them, was done in a time of war, or immediately afterwards. What was done by the Oxford Parliament was done in a time of peace. Moreover, Cromwell, in his declaration, had prescribed no penalty for disobedience, and had promised to deal leniently with all persons who were well-disposed towards his government;[486] but now, men were required to swear to an abstract proposition which destroyed the last defence of freedom, or to be mulcted in a large penalty, with the superadded hardship of a banishment from home.
FIVE MILE ACT.
The Bill met with a faint opposition in the Lower House; in the Upper, not only the Lords Wharton and Ashley—the first a Nonconformist, it will be remembered, the latter supposed to be inclined that way—but also the Earl of Southampton, at that time Lord Treasurer, spoke distinctly against it. The latter declared that no honest man could take such an oath—he could not do it himself, for however firm might be his attachment to the Church, as things were managed, he did not know but that he might himself discover reasons for seeking some change in its constitution.[487] Dr. Erle, then Bishop of Salisbury, also disapproved of this assault upon liberty. The Primate Sheldon, and the Bishop of Exeter, Seth Ward, were zealous in their support of it; at the same time all who secretly favoured Roman Catholicism, regarded it with satisfaction;[488] it being in harmony with their policy, to reduce the Sectaries to such a state of misery, as that they should be forced to accept toleration from His Majesty on his own terms. Nearly half the House of Commons now became so infatuated as to support another Bill, which was founded upon the opposition made by members of the House of Lords, and which was intended to impose the obnoxious oath and declaration upon the nation at large.[489] This Bill, however, was rejected by the votes of three members, "who had the merit of saving their country from the greatest ignominy which could have befallen it, that of riveting as well as forging its own chains."[490]
1665.
FIVE MILE ACT.
A difference of opinion arose amongst Nonconformists respecting the course to be pursued in relation to the Five Mile Act. Some were willing to take the oath in a qualified sense. Bridgeman, Chief Justice of the Court of Common Plea[491] and other Judges explained the words in the oath, "I will not at any time endeavour any alteration of Government, either in Church or State," to mean an unlawful endeavour. With this qualification afforded by high legal authorities, some distinguished Nonconformists submitted to the statute. About twenty ministers in the City of London took the oath, including Dr. Bates; and about twelve in Devonshire, including John Howe. Bates argued, that the word endeavour might be construed in a qualified sense, according to the preface of the Act, its congruity with other laws, the testimony of members of Parliament,[492] and the concurrent opinion of the Judges. When he, with others, presented himself before their Lordships, Bridgeman courteously observed, "Gentlemen, I perceive you are come to take the oath. I am glad of it. The intent of it is to distinguish between the King's good subjects, and those who are mentioned in the Act, and to prevent seditious and tumultuous endeavours to alter the Government." One of the ministers, Mr. Clarke, replied, "In this sense we take it;" upon which Lord Keeling, the same who introduced the Bill of Uniformity, said in a hasty tone, "Will you take the oath as the Parliament has appointed it?" Bates replied, "My Lord, we are come hither to attest our loyalty, and to declare, we will not seditiously endeavour to alter the Government." When the oath had been administered, Keeling proceeded with great vehemence to interpret what they had done as involving the renunciation of the Covenant, "that damnable oath," as he politely termed it, "which sticks between the teeth of so many." He hoped, as there was one King and one faith, so there would be one Government, and that if these ministers did not now conform, what they had just done would be considered as meant "to save a stake."[493] The ministers retired with sadness, without noticing the insult.
1665.
A certain interpretation being admitted by the Court, there could be no charge of dishonest evasion against those who, in such a way, publicly declared their construction of the words. Yet they really substituted another declaration for that which was required by the law; and those who allowed the substitution actually set the law aside. The law was no doubt unjust; and to correct the injustice an unnatural sense was put upon its terms. But notwithstanding this kind of sophistry—so often practised even by people who are straightforward in other ways—the pledge of obedience which the Nonconformists gave, sufficed to show the intense cruelty of treating such men as if they had been rebels.[494]
The greater number of Nonconformists regarded the subject in a different light from that in which it was viewed by Bates and Howe; and not being able, with their convictions, to acquiesce in a forced construction of the formulary, they refused to adopt it, whilst they also still resolved to preach the Gospel: thus following the example of the Apostles, who said, "Whether it be right in the sight of God to hearken unto you more than unto God, judge ye." The essence of the whole question as to the explanation of formularies, and the course which conscience dictates in cases where formularies are felt to be objectionable, was involved in the controversy raised by the Five Mile Act; and was a subject of casuistry too tempting for Richard Baxter not to touch, even if practical considerations and personal interests had not prompted him to engage in the inquiry. Several closely-printed folio pages are devoted by him to an examination of the arguments on both sides—the result of his cogitations being that he himself records a resolution, not to take the oath at all. He looked upon the whole proceeding as unrighteous; and pronounced the statute a "history," adapted to make Nonconformists appear to posterity as if they were disloyal. He was moved to draw up a defence on their behalf, but, on reading it to some of his friends, they persuaded him to throw it aside, and submit in silence. "The wise statesmen," adds the simple-hearted theologian—and the remark involves a just satire on the way in which the world often judges—"laughed at me, for thinking that reason would be regarded by such men as we had to do with,—and would not exasperate them the more."[495]
FIVE MILE ACT.
Those who declined to take the oath were either subject to fine, or had to dwell in such places only as were allowed by the Act, such compulsory residence, in a number of cases, rendering necessary an expensive and inconvenient removal. Baxter and Owen, who were living in London, repaired, the one to Acton, the other to Ealing. Many in the Northern part of the country went to Manchester, Bolton, Sheffield, and Mansfield, which were called "Cities of Refuge"—inasmuch as they were, at that time, towns without corporations. Oliver Heywood left Coley, not to go so far as many did, for he only crossed the hills to Denton—"Yet it was the weariest, most tedious journey," he remarks, "I have had that way, which I have gone many hundred times, but scarce ever with so sad a heart, in so sharp a storm of weather."[496]
1665.
Philip Henry refused to take the oath, and his case proved one of peculiar hardship, for Broad Oak, where he lived, was but four reputed miles from Worthenbury, where he had preached, although upon measurement the distance turned out to be above five miles. Reputed miles were, by the authorities, counted instead of measured miles, and consequently the good man was compelled to leave his family for a time, "and to sojourn among his friends, to whom he endeavoured, wherever he came, to impart some spiritual gift."[497]
Several ministers in the Northern Counties escaped the penalties of the Conventicle and Five Mile Acts. This anomaly may be accounted for, in part, by remembering the scanty population in those districts, and the impossibility, under any circumstances, of maintaining such a vigilant oversight of the inhabitants as to detect all instances of disobedience. But the comparative exemption of some neighbourhoods in the North from the vigorous oppression experienced elsewhere, is also in part to be attributed to the influence of three noblemen who were Lord-Lieutenants, respectively, of the Counties of York, of Lancaster, and of Derby. The Lord-Lieutenant of Yorkshire was no other than the notorious Duke of Buckingham, who had married Lord Fairfax's daughter. Vicious and worthless as the Duke was, he had strong opinions in favour of toleration, if for no higher reason, at least from dislike to Clarendon's policy, and perhaps, too, from the influence of family connections.[498] This erratic Peer had engaged a Nonconformist minister as his chaplain, and when his mother-in-law, Lady Fairfax, died, he endeavoured to arrange for the funeral sermon being publicly preached by this gentleman.[499] The Lord-Lieutenant of Lancashire was the Earl of Derby; and of him, Newcome, the Presbyterian minister of Manchester, tells several stories indicative of his liberality. The Rector of Walton, a Heywood of Heywood, on one occasion asked the Earl to put down a Conventicle at Toxteth Park. "What did the people do there?" he asked. "Preach and pray," was the answer. "If that be all," replied the Earl, "why should they be restrained; will you neither preach nor pray yourselves, nor suffer others to preach and pray?" The Lord-Lieutenant of the County of Derby was the Earl of Devonshire, and he also disliked the persecuting measures.
NONENFORCEMENT OF LAW.
Where no leniency was intended, the law, in some cases, failed in its effect. This called forth the lamentation of certain zealots. "I am bound to say," remarks one of this class, "nothing was prosecuted at the last quarter sessions against the Quakers, nor the rest of that diabolical rabble—although several bills of indictment have been framed and presented at sessions against that viperous brood,—yet by reason most of the grand jury are fanatics, the bills were not found, and that they have several places of meeting will manifestly appear.... The honest souls, especially Church officers and others, are much afflicted to be reviled and affronted in the performance of their offices by the bold faction.... The fanatics abound in good horses, and seem to be ready for mischief; but if half a score such as might be named were secured in our castles, and made to give good security for their conformity to the King's Majesty and the Church, doubtless it would abate their pride, and, it may be, confound their devices."[500]
1666.
One great reason assigned for the two oppressive Acts just described, was, as we have seen, the disaffection of Nonconformists; and—particularly in reference to the Five Mile Act—the allegation that they were implicated in certain designs of invasion contemplated by the Dutch was strongly urged. In this, as in former cases, we have no means of testing the information which abounds in the letters written at the time by the enemies of the accused. Many of the rumours are utterly incredible—as for example that it was intended to restore Richard Cromwell; that it would be easy to secure in some parts the gentry on his side; that the watchword was to be "Tumble down Dick, they will declare for a Commonwealth;" and that the Earl of Derby favoured the disaffected party. We may be confident, too, from what we know of their characters, that the principal Nonconformist ministers frowned upon all political plots. Yet no one who has perused the State Papers can deny, that at the time now under review, enough was reported at headquarters to make the Government very uncomfortable.[501]
DUTCH WAR.
France just then was looking to England for elements of disturbance which might favour its designs upon our country in aid of Holland, Louis XIV. being on terms of friendship with the Dutch; and we find the Grand Monarque, in a letter to the States, proposing to give occupation to Charles at home by exciting the Presbyterians and Catholics to revolt.[502]
In the summer of 1665, the Dutch, encouraged by promises of assistance from the French, had been seen cruising around our coasts, and were defeated by the English fleet; in 1666 a more important action occurred on the 5th of June, when our countrymen burnt or disabled between twenty and thirty of the ninety ships belonging to the enemy; and another occurred on the 25th of July, which ended, after three days' fighting, in the defeat of the Dutch.[503]
1666.
It was to one of the engagements at that period that Dryden refers in his picturesque description: "The noise of the cannon from both navies reached our ears about the city, so that all men being alarmed with it and in dreadful suspense of the event, which we knew was then deciding, every one went following the sound as his fancy led him; and leaving the town almost empty, some took towards the park, some cross the river, others down it—all seeking the noise in the depth of the silence."[504] Such imminent peril alarmed the whole country, as well as London; and when, for a time, the worst was over, apprehension remained of further attacks from the great naval power of Holland, and some persons of Republican sentiments were hoping that their own objects would be promoted by the war. English refugees in the United Provinces were corresponding with their friends at home; and much, it would appear, was said and done to nourish Republican hopes on English soil. A considerable amount of sympathy with the Dutch existed in the West of England; and, in consequence of this sympathy and correspondence, the Government took measures to prevent letters passing between the two countries. Aphara Behn—an eccentric and notorious poetess and novelist—was employed upon a semi-official mission to Antwerp, for the purpose of obtaining information from the English fugitives respecting any political schemes which they might have in hand.[505]
A great calamity now requires attention.