At the time when the new Bill reached the Lords, they were engaged upon a report concerning the penal laws against Papists. Hoping to share in any relief which might be extended to the last-named religionists, certain Anabaptists and "good Christians," as they called themselves, had presented a petition upon the 5th of July, and were on the 12th permitted to plead on their own behalf. The Lords finished the report on the penal laws against Catholics upon the 16th of the month; and a Committee was then appointed to prepare a Bill to repeal certain statutes concerning Jesuits, also the clause in the Act of the 35th of Queen Elizabeth c. i., respecting Nonconformists, together with the writ de Hæretico Comburendo. The reasons of the alterations were to be set forth, and proper remedies were to be devised for preserving the Protestant religion from any inconveniences incident upon the repeal of these ancient enactments. Such proceedings, at first sight, appear as so much progress towards religious liberty; but there is ground for believing that the reference to the statute against Nonconformists, only served to cover some relief designed for the Papists. Whatever the real intention might be, the whole business soon dropped, and no further allusion to it is found in the Journals; nor during the remainder of the year 1661 is any further mention made of the Bill of Uniformity.
1661.
In those days the transmission of intelligence to the provinces could not be otherwise than slow, and when it had reached its destination it often proved inaccurate. The broad-wheeled coach, or the horse laden with saddle-bags, could only, with measured pace, convey the London citizen to the house of a country friend. The news which he related at the supper-table, or which he conveyed in some quaintly-written epistle, would then be stale indeed, according to the judgment of such as are familiar with telegrams. The cumbrous stage-waggon, more heavily laden, would be slower still in its movements, and by the time it reached the rural inn, the newspapers it carried would be far advanced in age. Altogether the Mercuries were tardy in their flight, and the Public Intelligencers were addicted to garbling reports, and falsifying stories. What had been done in the Session would, therefore, not be known in distant counties until some time afterwards; and then, probably, in some instances, reports would be circulated through a town or a village in erroneous form.
STATE OF FEELING.
Tidings of the new Bill, in confused fashion, struggled down to Worthenbury, seven miles from Wrexham, where lived the eminently pious Philip Henry. Just before the Bill passed its last stage in the Lower House, he received news from London of speedy severity intended against Nonconformists. In daily doubt of what was to happen, he, on the 7th of July recorded, that "In despite of enemies the Lord hath granted the liberty of one Sabbath more." Next day he received a letter from Dr. Bridgeman (the restored Rector), informing him that if he did not speedily conform, he, Dr. Bridgeman, could no longer protect him. Henry wrote a "dilatory answer," to the Episcopalian clergyman, hoping that time might bring some deliverance. The old Incumbent acted kindly, and showed no sympathy with the ruling powers. On the 24th, news of the progress of the Bill reached the Flintshire rectory, and shaped itself into a report, that the Bill had passed both Houses, and now only waited His Majesty's assent. "Lord, his heart is in Thy hand," ejaculated the devout Puritan; "if it be Thy will, turn it; if otherwise, fit Thy people to suffer, and cut short the work in righteousness."[270]
Means were not wanting for the annoyance of Nonconformist ministers by those who wished to restore the surplice and the Liturgy; and on Sunday, the 25th of August, 1661, just a year before the legal enforcement of Uniformity, Oliver Heywood had the Prayer Book publicly presented to him in his Church, with a demand that he would use it in the devotions of the day. It was laid on the pulpit cushion. He quietly took it down, and placed it on the reading-desk, and then went on with the service in the accustomed Presbyterian fashion, being "wonderfully assisted," as he remarks, "that day, in praying and preaching."
1661.
It is difficult, even amidst the strongest excitement of the nineteenth century, to conceive of the bitter feelings which existed in the middle of the seventeenth. Our abuse is courtesy, compared with the abuse which prevailed then. Fierce diatribes were uttered from parish pulpits by restored Incumbents against Roundheads, Anabaptists, and Quakers. They were denounced as rebels who had narrowly escaped the gallows. "Many of you," said Dr. Reeve, in the Abbey Church of Waltham, "have gotten a pardon for all your exorbitances, but death will seal no act of indemnity. Ye have escaped the halter of many of your fellow miscreants, but death hath set up her gibbet for you."[271] The press also was plied for reducing intractable parishes into a state of submission. Swarms of pamphlets and broadsides were issued—some reprints, some originals—with a view to support the Church by argument, or by satire, or by ridicule.[272] Marvellous stories also were manufactured about the devil having appeared to fanatics, who, late at night, were on their way to Conventicles; and sharp, severe, and unjust things were also said on the other side.[273]