The king was troubled; in his blind obstinacy he had not foreseen the resistance of the Church nor the indignation of the people. For a moment he inclined towards conciliation. The Chancellor, however, advised to the contrary; he counselled legal prosecution. Summoned to appear before the Council upon the 8th of June, the bishops, carefully instructed by the ablest lawyers, were prudently reserved. They refused to recognize the order of appearance before the Court of King's Bench, and intrenched themselves behind their privileges as peers of the realm. "You believe everybody rather than me," cried the king, angrily. The seven bishops were sent to the Tower.
A great multitude crowded after them. "God bless your lordships," shouted the people on every side. The soldiers who guarded the Traitor's Gate fell upon their knees to receive the episcopal blessing. Their health was drunk throughout the garrison; the coaches of the first nobles were ranged in double file outside of the prison; a deputation of Nonconformist ministers was sent to compliment the bishops. The king sent for these delegates to reproach them for their ingratitude. "We have forgotten all past quarrels," responded the Dissenters, "and we are resolved to stand by the men who stood by the Protestant religion." On the 15th of June, at the opening of the assizes, the bishops were admitted to bail, and at once returned to their palaces. Twenty-one peers of the highest rank offered their guarantees; one of the richest Dissenters claimed the honor of furnishing the bail for Ken. The attitude of the bishops had continued pious and modest as well as courageous. "Honor the king and remember us in your prayers," repeated they to the crowd assembled about them. Sir Edward Hales, the Catholic Governor of the Tower, threatened them with irons and the dungeon if they came into his hands again. "We are under our king's displeasure," replied the bishops, "and most deeply do we feel it; but a fellow-subject who threatens us does but lose his breath." The Archbishop of Canterbury had great difficulty in preventing the grenadiers, stationed before his palace, from lighting bonfires in honor of his return. All demanded his blessing.
While the bishops were yet in the Tower, upon the 10th of June, 1688, was born at the Palace of St. James, in the midst of suspicions the most insulting, the unfortunate heir of the Stuarts, destined to wander about the world for seventy-seven years, a prey to every misfortune. Throughout all England the pregnancy of the queen had been questioned, and when the Prince of Orange despatched his ambassador, Count Zulestein, to congratulate his father-in-law upon the birth of the Prince of Wales, the envoy soon wrote to his master that the infant was generally believed to be supposititious. This public conviction accorded with the interests of William of Nassau. Soon the prayers ordered for the little prince, in the chapel of the court at the Hague, were suppressed. When King James angrily remonstrated, his daughter assured him that the omission was a mere neglect, but nevertheless the prayers were never renewed.
History has judged James II. severely; less distrustful or less prejudiced than the English people and the Prince of Orange, it has ceased to question the legitimacy of his son. On the 29th of June, already at the break of day, the neighborhood of Westminster Hall was thronged with people; the jury, chosen with care by the agents of the crown, was assembled in the Court of King's Bench. They awaited the arrival of the bishops, who came accompanied by the most distinguished advocates of that day. Thirty-nine peers of the realm were in the audience. The discussion was long, close, and often passionate; it turned upon the right of subjects to present a petition which had not the character of a libel. Two of the judges decided in favor of the bishops. "The Declaration of Indulgence is null according to my judgment," said Powell; "and the dispensing power, as lately exercised, is utterly inconsistent with all law. If these encroachments of prerogative are allowed, there is an end of Parliaments. The whole legislative authority would be in the king. That issue, gentlemen, I leave to God and to your consciences."
Night had come; the jury retired. "It is very late," wrote the Papal Nuncio, "and the decision is not yet known. The judges and the culprits have gone to their homes. The jury remain together. To-morrow we shall learn the issue of this great struggle."
The consultation was violent. Those who watched upon the stairs heard confused voices and angry ejaculations. At first nine were for acquittal. Two of the minority soon gave away; but Arnold remained obstinate. "Whatever I do," he said, "I am sure to be half ruined. If I say Not guilty, I shall brew no more for the king; and if I say Guilty, I shall brew no more for anybody else. I am not accustomed to reasoning and debating, and my conscience is not satisfied; I shall not acquit the bishops."
Austin, a rich country gentleman, earnestly in favor of the prelates, replied: "If you come to that, look at me. I am the largest and strongest of the twelve; and before I find such a petition as this a libel, here I will stay till I am no bigger than a tobacco pipe." It was six in the morning when Arnold finally yielded. The court reassembled at ten. "Not guilty," announced Sir Roger Langley, the chief of the jury.