"When your Lordship, I say, shall examine into these particulars, I doubt not of the inferences so wise a man will draw from such convincing circumstances.
"And as your Lordship has begun to redress one abuse, I persuade myself you will not stop here, but enquire likewise, by what authority it was put there. This may, perhaps, open another scene to your Lordship's view, and give you an opportunity, not only to ease the parish of a very heavy burden it now groans under, but prevent its being run to unnecessary and unwarranted expences for the future, by every Jac——- in an office.
"And, indeed, unless there was a sufficient warrant for such alterations, the workmen should go to the right person's door, and he that set them to work ought to pay them; for, in my humble opinion, the place needed no alteration: it was decent, convenient, and indeed ornamental enough before; there was no more sign, or fear of its falling, than there was occasion to take it down, and deprive the parish of a conveniency now very much wanted, I mean a little vestry-room, which was behind the old communion table, where the books, vessels, and vestments of the church, were ready at hand, and just at the very altar; whereas now every thing is brought quite through the body of the church, which in case of a croud (as of late has been but too frequent) is both tedious and inconvenient to the last degree.
"But, notwithstanding this, it was resolutely taken down, to gratify the pride and malice of some persons, who thirsted to eternize their names, and affront the government. What have been the consequences of all this, but an eye-sore and heart-burning to the honest and loyal part of the inhabitants, and a continual hurly-burly of loiterers from all parts of the town, to see our Popish raree-show?"
After a digression on the famous altar at White-Chapel, in which Dean Kennet was said to be satirized, and some general observations on pictures in churches, the Letter-writer adds, "Never before was any Popish saint put over the communion-table in a Protestant church. The Last Supper, the Passion, Crucifixion, or some other incidents of our Blessed Saviour's life, are the general subjects given to painters on these occasions; but to have a concert of musick, &c. (suppose it were not the Pretender's spouse, and probably some more of his family, under the form of angels) is the most abrupt and foreign that I ever saw or heard of.
"What surprizes me most is, that any of my fellow parishioners should not only dispute your Lordship's commands, delay the execution of your just injunction, when it was most reasonable and necessary, but pester your Lordship with impertinent petitions and remonstrances, as if they were injured and oppressed, or your Lordship misinformed. This must be the reason; or to what purpose did they trifle with and contest your Lordship's ordinance? But you are too just a man to give any sentence but the most impartial, and too steady to give up any point, where the peace of the Church and the honour of the King is concerned.
"Whoever murmurs at its being taken down, takes the part of those who set it up; and whoever takes their part, is as bad as themselves, and would do the like on the like opportunity. What can they object against its being removed? What can they offer for having it remain? But why's, and why not's. As, Why should it be removed? What hurt did it do? Why should so much money be thrown away? And, why might not that picture be there as well as any other? Why does your Lordship interfere in the matter? This, with a glance of complaint at your Lordship, and severe invectives against those who solicited that interposition, calling them informers, busy, forward, mischief-making fellows, who had better mind their own business, and such like ribaldry, is all they can say for themselves. But these are the worst reasons in the world, and invidious queries only to evade an argument, and are not to be admitted in a debate of this nature, where a direct reason for, or against, is required. But give me leave, my Lord, and I will, in a few words, answer all their queries, which seem so weighty and formidable to the vulgar and ignorant.
"Why should it be removed? may be answered by another question, What business had it there? But as I scorn such quibbling ways of reasoning, I shall answer them, because it is unfit for that sacred place. If it is the Princess Sobieski's image, it is sacrilegious and traiterous, and therefore ought to be removed. If it is, as they say, a choir of heavenly angels at a practice of musick, playing on earthly instruments, it is impertinent and absurd to the last degree, and therefore ought to be removed from a place where the utmost decorum should be kept.
"What hurt does it, say they? To which I answer, it hurted or disturbed the peace of the church, and was so far hurtful, as we were hindered or annoyed in our devotions; it made a division in the parish, and was so far hurtful, as it tended to the breach of peace and good neighbourhood; and therefore I think it ought to be removed, since, not to answer them with a question, but a common saying, it did hurt enough.
"Why should so much money be thrown away? Ay, there's the grievance; but I shall tell them, they may thank themselves, it was the act and deed of their own cabal; and though they might triumph and laugh in their sleeves for a while, yet murder will out, and they might expect to be paid in their own coin one time or other. There was no occasion to remove the old communion-table and vestry; and therefore all the money is thrown away; the worse their management. Nor was there any necessity of so sumptuous an altar-piece, or of that picture in particular, therefore so much money as that picture cost, which, by the bye, is no trifling sum[1] (the painter, as well as his masters, being no small fool), is entirely thrown away, and has been cast into The Thames; or, as the vulgar have it, thrown down the kennel.