The dissenters, who had originally consented to the Test and Corporation Acts, upon a most unselfish ground—for they sacrificed their own interest in order that the Romanists might be prevented from being admitted to places of power and trust—now demanded the repeal of those Acts. The request perplexed the crown and ministry, especially when an election was pending. To promise the dissenters (and it was more especially the Presbyterians who moved in this matter) relief would be to deprive the crown of the votes of churchmen; and to reject the petition would be to set every dissenter against the government and its candidates. Sir Robert Walpole, in his perplexity, looked around for a good genius to rescue him from the dilemma in which he was placed. He paused, on considering Hoadly, Bishop of Salisbury. The bishop was the very deus ex machinâ most needed, but he had been shabbily treated on matters of preferment; and Walpole, who had face for most things, had not the face to ask help from a man whom he had ill-treated. The Queen stepped in and levelled the difficulty.
Caroline sent for Hoadly to come to her at Kensington. She received the prelate with affability, and overwhelmed him with flattery, compliments on his ability, and grateful expressions touching his zeal and the value of his services in the King’s cause. She had now, she said, a further service to ask at his hands; and, of course, it was one which demanded of him no sacrifice of opinion or consistency: the Queen would have been the last person to ask such a thing of the reverend prelate! The service was this. The dissenters required the repeal of the Test and Corporation Acts. The government did not dispute their right to have such a concession made to them, but it did feel that the moment was inconvenient; and, therefore, Bishop Hoadly, for whom the whole body of dissenters entertained the most profound respect, was solicited to make this opinion known to them, and to induce them to defer their petition to a more favourable opportunity.
The Queen supported her request by such close and cogent arguments, flattered the bishop so adroitly, and drew such a picture of the possibly deplorable results of an attempt to force the repeal of the Acts alluded to at the present moment, that Hoadly may be excused if he began to think that the stability of the House of Hanover depended on the course he should take in this conjuncture. He was not, however, to be cajoled out of his opinions or his independence; he pronounced the restrictive Acts unreasonable politically, and profane theologically. He added, that, as a friend to religious and civil liberty, he would vote for the repeal whenever and by whomsoever proposed. He should stultify himself if he did otherwise. All that was in his ‘little power,’ consistent with his honour and reputation, he would, nevertheless, willingly do. If he could be clearly convinced that the present moment was unpropitious for pressing the demand, and perilous to the stability of the government, he would not fail to urge upon the dissenters to postpone presenting their petition until the coming of a more favourable opportunity.
The out-of-door world no sooner heard of this interview between the Queen and the prelate, than a report arose that her Majesty had succeeded in convincing the right reverend father that the claims of the dissenters were unreasonable, and that the bishop, as a consequence of such conviction, would henceforth oppose them resolutely.
Hoadly became alarmed, for such a report damaged all parties. He was very anxious to maintain a character for consistency, and at the same time not to lose his little remnant of interest at court. He tried in vain to get a promise from Sir Robert, that, if the dissenters would defer preferring their claim until the meeting of a new parliament, it should then meet with the government support. Sir Robert was too wary to make such a promise, although he hinted his conviction of the reasonableness of the claim, and that it would be supported when so preferred. But the bishop, in his turn, was too cautious to allow himself to be caught by so flimsy an encouragement; and he was admitted to several subsequent consultations with the Queen; but, clever as she was, she could not move the bishop. Hoadly was resolved that the dissenters should know, that if he thought they might with propriety defer their petition, he would uphold its prayer whenever presented.
In the mean time, Sir Robert extricated himself and the government cleverly. Caroline doubtless enjoyed this exercise of his ability as well as its results. The dissenters, organising an agitation, had established a central committee in London, all the members of which were bound to Sir Robert; ‘all monied men, and scriveners, and chosen by his contrivance. They spoke only to be prompted, and acted only as he guided.’[5] This committee had a solemnly farcical meeting with the administration, to hold a consultation in the matter. Sir Robert and the speakers confined themselves to the unseasonableness, but commended the reasonableness, of the petition. ‘My lord president looked wise, was dull, took snuff, and said nothing. Lord Harrington (the Mr. Stanhope who had waited on the Duchess of Queensberry) took the same silent, passive part. The Lord-Chancellor (King) and the Duke of Newcastle had done better had they followed that example too; but both spoke very plentifully, and were both equally unintelligible; the one (King) from having lost his understanding, and the other from never having had any.’[6]
The committee, after this interview, came to the resolution, that if a petition were presented to parliament now in favour of the repeal of the Test and Corporation Acts, ‘there was no prospect of success.’ This resolution saved the administration from the storm threatened by the Presbyterian party. That party considered itself betrayed by its own delegates, the Queen and Sir Robert were well satisfied with the result, and the bishop was looked upon by the dissenters as having supported their cause too little, and by the Queen’s cabinet as having supported it too much.
In this case it may, perhaps, be fairly asserted that the Queen and the minister, while they punished the dissenters, caused the blame to fall upon the church. Their chief argument was, that the opposition of the clergy would be a source of the greatest embarrassment to the administration. It had long been the fashion to make the church suffer, at least in reputation, on every occasion when opportunity offered, and without any thought as to whether the establishment deserved it or not. It was in politics precisely as it was in Sir John Vanbrugh’s comedy of the ‘Provoked Wife.’ It will be remembered that, in that dramatic mirror, which represents nature as objects are seen reflected in flawed glass, when the tailor enters with a bundle, the elegant Lord Rake exclaims, ‘Let me see what’s in that bundle!’ ‘An’t please you,’ says the tailor, ‘it is the doctor of the parish’s gown.’ ‘The doctor’s gown!’ cries my lord; and then, turning to Sir John Brute, he exultingly enquires, or requires, ‘Hark you, knight; you won’t stick at abusing the clergy, will you?’ ‘No!’ shouts Brute, ‘I’m drunk, and I’ll abuse anything!’ ‘Then,’ says Lord Rake, ‘you shall wear this gown whilst you charge the watch; that though the blows fall upon you, the scandal may light upon the church!’ ‘A generous design, by all the Gods!’ is the ecstatic consent of the Pantheistic Brute—and it is one to which Amen! has been cried by many of the Brute family since first it was uttered by their illustrious predecessor.
Meanwhile, Caroline could be as earnest and interested upon trifles as she was upon questions of political importance. She loved both to plague and to talk about Mrs. Howard.
That the Queen was not more courteous to this lady than their respective positions demanded there is abundant evidence. In a very early period of the reign Mrs. Howard was required, as bedchamber-woman, to present a basin for the Queen to wash her hands in, and to perform the service kneeling. The etiquette was, for the basin and ewer to be set on the Queen’s table by a page of the back stairs: the office of the bedchamber-woman was then to take both, pour out the water, set it before the Queen, and remain kneeling while her Majesty washed, of which refreshing ceremony the kneeling attendant was the only one who dared be the ocular witness.