The altered and improved tone of Sancroft on the subject of Nonconformity just after the trial of the seven will be noticed in its proper place;[215] but certainly the language which the seven now employed looked too much as if introduced to serve a purpose. Their expressed objection to the Royal proceedings as unconstitutional, and as fraught with perilous consequences to the liberties of the country, and their implied maintenance of the authority of Parliament as the conservator of national freedom deserve, however, an Englishman’s gratitude; although here again, it is provoking to remember, that the current teaching of the High Church school, to which some of the prelates belonged, had been such as to exalt the power of Kings far above the power of Parliaments. The ostensible ground of defence, that the Declaration and the order were unconstitutional, gave the Bishops the appearance of being confessors in the cause of civil liberty, but this is a view of their character entirely contradicted by their previous career. The real ground of their conduct, no doubt, is to be discovered in their alarm at the King’s patronage of Roman Catholicism, in their persuasion that the Indulgence, which they were commanded to publish, had been contrived for that end, and in their conviction, that by active compliance with the Royal mandate at this crisis, they would be betraying the Church of England, and degrading their own character.
THE SEVEN BISHOPS.
The seven Bishops just described or mentioned, signed the petition. On the evening of the day on which they performed that momentous act, six of them crossed the water, to seek an interview with the King,—the Archbishop not accompanying them, because he had been forbidden access to Court. The prelates were admitted after ten o’clock to the Royal bedchamber, and then into the King’s closet,[216] where the Bishop of St. Asaph, dropping on his knees, presented the petition. The King exclaimed, “This is my Lord of Canterbury’s own hand.” “Yes, Sir,” said the Bishops, “it is his own hand.” “What,” cried His Majesty, in a furious tone, “the Church of England against my dispensing power? The Church of England! They that always preached it.” The prelates told him they never preached any such thing, but only obedience and suffering when they could not obey.[217] “This,” added James, as he folded up the paper, “is a great surprise to me; here are strange words—I did not expect this from you. This is a standard of rebellion.” The Bishops rejoined—“That they had adventured their lives for His Majesty, and would lose the last drop of their blood rather than lift up a finger against him.” The King repeated, “I tell you this is a standard of rebellion; I never saw such an address.” The Bishop of Bristol burst into an exclamation, “Rebellion, Sir! I beseech your Majesty, do not say so hard a thing of us. For God’s sake do not believe we are, or can be guilty of a rebellion. It is impossible that I, or any of my family should be so. Your Majesty cannot but remember that you sent me down into Cornwall to quell Monmouth’s rebellion, and I am as ready to do what I can to quell another, if there were occasion.” The Bishop of Chichester backed his Episcopal brother by saying, “Sir, we have quelled one rebellion, and will not raise another;” and the rest, after professing their loyalty, continued their objections. James, insisting upon the rebellious tendency of the document demanded that he should be obeyed, and have the Declaration published; but, he said, if he altered his mind he would let them know.[218] The conversation ended, and they retired. Now the Archbishop had written the petition himself, that he might prevent its being published, but in some way a copy of it got abroad, and being fast multiplied, the paper the very same evening in which it reached the hands of His Majesty reached also the hands of hundreds, and perhaps thousands of the people. Afterwards it received the signatures of the Bishops of London, Norwich, Gloucester, Salisbury, Winchester, and Exeter, who were not present at the earlier meetings.
1688.
The Declaration was read at Whitehall “by one of the choir, who used to read the chapters.”[219] It was read in Westminster Abbey; but there arose so great a noise, that nobody could hear it, and at the end of the publication none remained present, except the prebends, the choristers, and the Westminster scholars. The number of instances in which it was published in London is reckoned by Burnet and Kennet at seven, and by Clarendon at four.[220] In dioceses, where the Bishops ordered the clergy to comply, the command met with only limited obedience; within the diocese of Norwich, not more than three or four parishes, out of about twelve hundred, heard a single word of the document; and a story is told of an incumbent, who informed his people, that he had been enjoined to read, but they were not compelled to hear, and, therefore, he suggested that they should retire, whilst he repeated the proclamation within empty walls.
THE SEVEN BISHOPS.
The following singular letter by Barlow, the Bishop of Lincoln, indicates at once the difficulty felt by his clergy, and his own lukewarmness in the matter. Addressing a correspondent, he says:—
“Sir,—I received yours, and all that I have time to say (the messenger which brought it making so little stay here) is only this. By His Majesty’s command, I was required to send that Declaration to all churches in my diocese, in obedience whereto I sent them. Now the same authority which requires me to send them, requires you to read them. But whether you should, or should not read them, is a question of that difficulty, in the circumstances we now are, that you can’t expect that I should so hastily answer it, especially in writing. The two last Sundays, the clergy in London were to read it, but, as I am informed, they generally refused. For myself I shall neither persuade nor dissuade you, but leave it to your prudence and conscience, whether you will, or will not read it; only this I shall advise, that, after serious consideration, you find that you cannot read it, but reluctante vel dubitante conscientiâ, in that case, to read it will be your sin, and you to blame for doing it. I shall only add, that God Almighty would be so graciously pleased to bless and direct you so, that you may do nothing in this case, which may be justly displeasing to God, or the King, is the prayer of your loving friend, and brother,
Thos. Lincoln.”[221]
1688.