1687.
The audacious zeal of James in the support of Popery reached its climax in the summer of 1687. Monsignor Ferdinando D’Adda, described by a Jesuit as a mere boy, a fine showy fop, to make love to the ladies,[190] after having for some time privately acted as Papal Nuncio, had, in the spring of this year, been publicly consecrated at Whitehall, titular Archbishop of Amasia. He had immediately afterwards been received in his archiepiscopal vestments by the Sovereign of England, who, in the presence of the Court, prostrated himself before the Italian prelate to receive his benediction. The prelate being thus prepared by his new dignity, the King determined that he should be publicly received as an ambassador from His Holiness; and he caused arrangements to be accordingly made for his reception in that capacity at Windsor Castle, on the 3rd of July. At the Whitehall reception of the Archbishop, the Spanish Ambassador had warned James against being priest-ridden, when the latter asked, “Is it not the usage in Spain that Kings consult their Confessors?” “Yes, Sire,” replied the Minister, “and hence it is that our affairs go so badly.” In prospect of the Windsor ceremonial, the Duke of Somerset received orders to be in attendance to introduce the dignitary. He begged to be excused, lest compliance should be construed into a breach of law. “Do you not know,” said James, “that I am above the law?” “Your Majesty may be,” rejoined the Duke, “but I am not.” This nobleman being dismissed for his frankness, people remarked in gossip, that a Duke of Somerset “had put out the Pope, and now the Pope had put out the Duke.” “It would have been more remarkable,” said Sir John Bramston, “if the Duke had brought him in.”[191]
PROMOTION OF ROMANISTS.
These little incidents would have sufficed, under the circumstances, to make prudent men pause, but they produced no effect upon the imprudent King. When the day arrived, the Nuncio started from his lodgings in Windsor, clothed in purple, with a gold crucifix hanging at his breast, seated in a coach, accompanied by the Duke of Grafton and Sir Charles Cotterel. He was preceded by Knight Marshal’s men on horseback, and by twelve footmen—“their coats being all of a dark grey coloured cloth, with white and purple lace.” Altogether the train consisted of thirty-six carriages, with six horses each, two of the carriages being filled with priests—but some were sent empty, to increase the pomp of the procession; and amongst such equipages were those of the Bishops of Durham and Chester. The party alighted in the outer court, and went upstairs into St. George’s Hall, where the King and Queen, seated upon two chairs under a canopy, received the Papal emissary with great reverence. The effect upon the English people may be conjectured. Great multitudes had been attracted by a show, such as had not been witnessed until now, since the Accession of Elizabeth. Windsor overflowed, and for want of room in inns and houses, people of quality had to sit in their coaches almost all the day.[192] But they were shocked by the spectacle; and the indignation of the inhabitants of the little town upon the public celebration of mass in Wolsey’s Chapel rose to such a height, that they riotously assailed the building, and left it in a state of miserable dilapidation. The feeling thus expressed extended over the country; Protestant anger almost everywhere arose, and James himself, when too late, saw the extreme folly of his conduct. It might be supposed that the Pontiff and the Papal Court would be delighted to hear of the Nuncio’s pageant, yet this was not the case. At Rome the proceedings met with condemnation. They accorded with the daring policy of the Jesuits, who were masters at Court, but not with the more cautious measures of the Papacy, at that time in collision with the order which had proved such a prop to the Papal chair.
Innocent XI. refused to gratify James in a matter which he had much at heart. James wished to procure a mitre for a Jesuit, named Petre, but as the elevation of the dignitary to the Episcopate was contrary to the rules of the Order, James sought for him a red hat. But neither mitre nor hat could be obtained. The circumstance mortified the Monarch, and it certainly appeared as a very ungrateful return for all his devotion to the interests of Rome; but he resolved to give Petre a seat at the Privy Council table, for which, indeed, he had designed the mitre or the hat to serve as a preparation. He meant to pave the way to the civil distinction of his Roman Catholic favourites, by first obtaining for them ecclesiastical honours; and when the nation heard that a Jesuit had been made a Privy Councillor, the wrath excited by the public recognition of Archbishop D’Adda increased tenfold.
1687.
Parliament had shown nothing like independence in reference to either ecclesiastical or political affairs, and had resembled a French Bed of Justice, convened to register Royal decrees; yet James dissolved it on the 4th of July, the very day succeeding the Nuncio’s reception. The despotic King now took affairs entirely into his own hands, and speedily rushed headlong to destruction. Two events completed the catastrophe—his attack upon the liberties of Cambridge and Oxford, and his second Declaration of Indulgence. These events at the same instant accomplished his own fall, and saved the Protestantism of England.
The law expressly provided, that none should be admitted to a Degree in either University who did not take the Oath of Supremacy and the Oath of Obedience. James had sent a mandate to Cambridge for Alban Francis, a Benedictine monk, to be created Master of Arts, although the monk was prevented by his religion from taking these oaths. Upon his refusing to be sworn, the University authorities refused to obey the mandate; consequently the High Commission summoned the two Chancellors and the Senate to appear before them at Westminster, upon the 21st of April. Dr. John Peachell, who then held the Vice-Chancellorship, with eight representatives of the Senate, including Isaac Newton, Fellow of Trinity, and Professor of Mathematics, answered the summons: and on meeting the Board, were treated by Jeffreys, who presided over the Commissioners, with an amount of insolence scarcely less than that which he had exhibited at the trial of Richard Baxter. He soundly rated Dr. Peachell; and when another more courageous person attempted to speak, he cried out, “That young gentleman expects to be Vice-Chancellor—when you are, Sir, you may speak, but till then it will become you to forbear.” Peachell had to suffer the loss of his office, and his emoluments, and the members of the Senate had to endure the vulgar insults of the minion who dismissed them, exclaiming, “I shall say to you what the Scripture says, and rather because most of you are Divines: ‘Go your way and sin no more, lest a worse thing come unto you.’”[193]
PROMOTION OF ROMANISTS.
1687.