CHAPTER LXX.

[Illustration: 1-846-james2.jpg JAMES II.]

JAMES II.

{1685.} THE first act of James’s reign was to assemble the privy

council; where, after some praises bestowed on the memory of his

predecessor, he made professions of his resolution to maintain the

established government, both in church and state. Though he had been

reported, he said, to have imbibed arbitrary principles, he knew that

the laws of England were sufficient to make him as great a monarch as he

could wish; and he was determined never to depart from them. And as

he had heretofore ventured his life in defence of the nation, he would

still go as far as any man in maintaining all its just rights and

liberties.

This discourse was received with great applause, not only by the

council, but by the nation. The king universally passed for a man of

great sincerity and great honor; and as the current of favor ran at that

time for the court, men believed that his intentions were conformable to

his expressions. “We have now,” it was said, “the word of a king, and a

word never yet broken.” Addresses came from all quarters, full of duty,

nay, of the most servile adulation. Every one hastened to pay court to

the new monarch:[*] and James had reason to think, that, notwithstanding

the violent efforts made by so potent a party for his exclusion, no

throne in Europe was better established than that of England.

* The Quakers’ address was esteemed somewhat singular for

its plainness and simplicity. It was conceived in these

terms: “We are come to testify our sorrow for the death of

our good friend Charles, and our joy for thy being made our

governor. We are told thou art not of the persuasion of the

church of England, no more than we, wherefore we hope thou

wilt grant us the same liberty which thou allowest thyself.

Which doing, we wish thee all manner of happiness.”

The king, however, in the first exercise of his authority, showed, that

either he was not sincere in his professions of attachment to the laws,

or that he had entertained so lofty an idea of his own legal power, that

even his utmost sincerity would tend very little to secure the liberties

of the people. All the customs and the greater part of the excise

had been settled by parliament on the late king during life, and

consequently the grant was now expired; nor had the successor any right

to levy these branches of revenue. But James issued a proclamation,

ordering the customs and excise to be paid as before; and this exertion

of power he would not deign to qualify by the least act or even

appearance of condescension. It was proposed to him, that, in order to

prevent the ill effects of any intermission in levying these duties,

entries should be made, and bonds for the sums be taken from the

merchants and brewers; but the payment be suspended till the parliament

should give authority to receive it. This precaution was recommended as

an expression of deference to that assembly, or rather to the laws: but

for that very reason, probably, it was rejected by the king; who thought

that the commons would thence be invited to assume more authority, and

would regard the whole revenue, and consequently the whole power of the

crown, as dependent on their good will and pleasure.

The king likewise went openly, and with all the ensigns of his dignity,

to mass, an illegal meeting: and by this imprudence he displayed at once

his arbitrary disposition, and the bigotry of his principles; these two

great characteristics of his reign, and bane of his administration. He

even sent Caryl as his agent to Rome, in order to make submissions to

the pope, and to pave the way for a solemn readmission of England into

the bosom of the Catholic church. The pope, Innocent XI., prudently

advised the king not to be too precipitate in his measures, nor rashly

attempt what repeated experience might convince him was impracticable.

The Spanish ambassador, Ronquillo, deeming the tranquillity of England

necessary for the support of Spain, used the freedom to make like

remonstrances. He observed to the king how busy the priests appeared at

court, and advised him not to assent with too great facility to their

dangerous counsels. “Is it not the custom in Spain,” said James, “for

the king to consult with his confessor?” “Yes,” replied the ambassador;

“and it is for that very reason our affairs succeed so ill.”

James gave hopes, on his accession, that he would hold the balance of

power more steadily than his predecessor; and that France, instead of

rendering England subservient to her ambitious projects, would now meet

with strong opposition from that kingdom. Besides applying himself

to business with industry, he seemed jealous of national honor; and

expressed great care that no more respect should be paid to the

French ambassador at London, than his own received at Paris. But these

appearances were not sufficiently supported; and he found himself

immediately under the necessity of falling into a union with that great

monarch, who, by his power as well as his zeal, seemed alone able to

assist him in the projects formed for promoting the Catholic religion in

England.

Notwithstanding the king’s prejudices, all the chief offices of the

crown continued still in the hands of Protestants. Rochester was

treasurer; his brother Clarendon chamberlain, Godolphin chamberlain

to the queen; Sunderland secretary of state; Halifax president of the

council. This nobleman had stood in opposition to James during the last

years of his brother’s reign; and when he attempted, on the accession,

to make some apology for his late measures, the king told him that he

would forget every thing past, except his behavior during the bill

of exclusion. On other occasions, however, James appeared not of so

forgiving a temper. When the principal exclusionists came to pay their

respects to the new sovereign, they either were not admitted, or were

received very coldly, sometimes even with frowns. This conduct might

suit the character which the king so much affected, of sincerity; but

by showing that a king of England could resent the quarrels of a duke

of York, he gave his people no high idea either of his lenity or

magnanimity.

On all occasions, the king was open in declaring, that men must now look

for a more active and more vigilant government, and that he would

retain no ministers who did not practise an unreserved obedience to

his commands. We are not indeed to look for the springs of his

administration so much in his council and chief officers of state, as

in his own temper, and in the character of those persons with whom he

secretly consulted. The queen had great influence over him; a woman of

spirit, whose conduct had been popular till she arrived at that high

dignity. She was much governed by the priests especially the Jesuits;

and as these were also the King’s favorites, all public measures were

taken originally from the suggestions of these men, and bore evident

marks of their ignorance in government, and of the violence of their

religious zeal.

The king, however, had another attachment, seemingly not very consistent

with this devoted regard to his queen and to his priests: it was to

Mrs. Sedley, whom he soon after created countess of Dorchester, and

who expected to govern him with the same authority which the duchess

of Portsmouth had possessed during the former reign. But James, who had

entertained the ambition of converting his people, was told, that

the regularity of his life ought to correspond to the sanctity of his

intentions; and he was prevailed with to remove Mrs. Sedley from

court; a resolution in which he had not the courage to persevere. Good

agreement between the mistress and the confessor of princes is not

commonly a difficult matter to compass: but in the present case, these

two potent engines of command were found very incompatible. Mrs. Sedley,

who possessed all the wit and ingenuity of her father, Sir Charles made

the priests and their counsels the perpetual objects cf her raillery;

and it is not to be doubted but they, on their part, redoubled their

exhortations with their penitent to break off so criminal an attachment.

How little inclination soever the king, as well as his queen and

priests, might bear to an English parliament, it was absolutely

necessary, at the beginning of the reign, to summon that assembly. The

low condition to which the whigs, or country party, had fallen during

the last years of Charles’s reign, the odium under which they labored on

account of the Rye-house conspiracy; these causes made that party meet

with little success in the elections. The general resignation, too,

of the charters had made the corporations extremely dependent; and the

recommendations of the court, though little assisted at that time

by pecuniary influence, were become very prevalent. The new house of

commons, therefore, consisted almost entirely of zealous tories and

churchmen; and were, of consequence, strongly biased by their affections

in favor of the measures of the crown.

The discourse which the king made to the parliament was more fitted to

work on their fears than their affections. He repeated, indeed, and with

great solemnity, the promise which he had made before the privy council,

of governing according to the laws, and of preserving the established

religion: but at the same time, he told them, that he positively

expected they would settle his revenue, and during life too, as in the

time of his brother. “I might use many arguments,” said he, “to

enforce this demand; the benefit of trade, the support of the navy, the

necessities of the crown, and the well-being of the government itself,

which I must not suffer to be precarious, but I am confident, that your

own consideration, and your sense of what is just and reasonable, will

suggest to you whatever on this occasion might be enlarged upon. There

is indeed one popular argument,” added he, “which may be urged against

compliance with my demand: men may think, that by feeding me from time

to time with such supplies as they think convenient, they will better

secure frequent meetings of parliament: but as this is the first time

I speak to you from the throne, I must plainly tell you, that such an

expedient would be very improper to employ with me; and that the best

way to engage me to meet you often, is always to use me well.”

It was easy to interpret this language of the king’s. He plainly

intimated, that he had resources in his prerogative for supporting the

government independent of their supplies; and that, so long as they

complied with his demands, he would have recourse to them; but that

any ill usage on their part would set him free from those measures

of government, which he seemed to regard more as voluntary than as

necessary. It must be confessed, that no parliament in England was ever

placed in a more critical situation, nor where more forcible arguments

could be urged, either for their opposition to the court, or their

compliance with it.

It was said on the one hand, that jealousy of royal power was the very

basis of the English constitution, and the principle to which the nation

was beholden for all that liberty which they enjoy above the subjects of

other monarchies: that this jealousy, though at different periods it may

be more or less intense, can never safely be laid asleep, even under

the best and wisest princes: that the character of the present sovereign

afforded cause for the highest vigilance, by reason of the arbitrary

principles which he had imbibed; and still more, by reason of his

religious zeal, which it is impossible for him ever to gratify without

assuming more authority than the constitution allows him: that power

is to be watched in its very first encroachments; nor is any thing ever

gained by timidity and submission: that every concession adds new

force to usurpation; and at the same time, by discovering the dastardly

dispositions of the people, inspires it with new courage and enterprise:

that as arms were intrusted altogether in the hands of the prince, no

check remained upon him but the dependent condition of his revenue;

a security, therefore, which it would be the most egregious folly

to abandon: that all the other barriers which of late years had been

erected against arbitrary power, would be found without this capital

article, to be rather pernicious and destructive: that new limitations

in the constitution stimulated the monarch’s inclination to surmount the

laws, and required frequent meetings of parliament, in order to repair

all the breaches which either time or violence may have made upon that

complicated fabric: that recent experience during the reign of the

late king, a prince who wanted neither prudence nor moderation,

had sufficiently proved the solidity of all these maxims: that his

parliament, having rashly fixed his revenue for life, and at the same

time repealed the triennial bill, found that they themselves were

no longer of importance; and that liberty, not protected by national

assemblies, was exposed to every outrage and violation: and that the

more openly the king made an unreasonable demand, the more obstinately

ought it to be refused; since it is evident, that his purpose in making

it cannot possibly be justifiable.

On the other hand, it was urged, that the rule of watching the very

first encroachments of power could only have place where the opposition

to it could be regular, peaceful, and legal: that though the refusal of

the king’s present demand might seem of this nature, yet in reality it

involved consequences which led much further than at first sight might

be apprehended: that the king in his speech had intimated, that he

had resources in his prerogative, which, in case of opposition from

parliament, he thought himself fully entitled to employ: that if the

parliament openly discovered an intention of reducing him to dependence,

matters must presently be brought to a crisis, at a time the most

favorable to his cause which his most sanguine wishes could ever have

promised him: that if we cast our eyes abroad to the state of affairs on

the continent, and to the situation of Scotland and Ireland; or, what

is of more importance, if we consider the disposition of men’s minds at

home, every circumstance would be found adverse to the cause of liberty:

that the country party, during the late reign, by their violent, and in

many respects unjustifiable measures in parliament, by their desperate

attempts out of parliament, had exposed their principles to general

hatred, and had excited extreme jealousy in all the royalists and

zealous churchmen, who now formed the bulk of the nation: that it would

not be acceptable to that party to see this king worse treated than his

brother in point of revenue, or any attempts made to keep the crown in

dependence: that they thought parliaments as liable to abuse as courts;

and desired not to see things in a situation where the king could not,

if he found it necessary, either prorogue or dissolve those assemblies:

that if the present parliament, by making great concessions, could gain

the king’s confidence, and engage him to observe the promises now given

them, every thing would by gentle methods succeed to their wishes: that

if, on the contrary, after such instances of compliance, he formed any

designs on the liberty and religion of the nation, he would, in the eyes

of all mankind, render himself altogether inexcusable, and the whole

people would join in opposition to him: that resistance could scarcely

be attempted twice; and there was therefore the greater necessity for

waiting till time and incidents had fully prepared the nation for

it: that the king’s prejudices in favor of Popery, though in the main

pernicious, were yet so far fortunate, that they rendered the connection

inseparable between the national religion and national liberty: and that

if any illegal attempts were afterwards made, the church, which was at

present the chief support of the crown, would surely catch the alarm,

and would soon dispose the people to an effectual resistance.

These last reasons, enforced by the prejudices of party, prevailed

in parliament; and the common’s, besides giving thanks for the king’s

speech, voted unanimously, that they would settle on his present majesty

during life all the revenue enjoyed by the late king at the time of his

demise. That they might not detract from this generosity by any symptoms

of distrust, they also voted unanimously, that the house entirely relied

on his majesty’s royal word and repeated declarations to support the

religion of the church of England; but they added, that that religion

was dearer to them than their lives. The speaker, in presenting the

revenue bill, took care to inform the king of their vote with regard to

religion; but could not, by so signal a proof of confidence, extort from

him one word in favor of that religion, on which, he told his majesty,

they set so high a value. Notwithstanding the grounds of suspicion

which this silence afforded, the house continued in the same liberal

disposition. The king having demanded a further supply for the navy and

other purposes, they revived those duties on wines and vinegar which had

once been enjoyed by the late king; and they added some impositions on

tobacco and sugar. This grant amounted on the whole to about six hundred

thousand pounds a year.

The house of lords were in a humor no less compliant. They even went

some lengths towards breaking in pieces all the remains of the Popish

plot, that once formidable engine[*] of bigotry and faction.

A little before the meeting of parliament, Oates had been tried for

perjury on two indictments; one for deposing, that he was present at a

consult of Jesuits in London the twenty-fourth of April, 1679; another

for deposing, that Father Ireland was in London between the eighth and

twelfth of August, and in the beginning of September, in the same year.

Never criminal was convicted on fuller and more undoubted evidence. Two

and twenty persons, who had been students at St. Omers, most of them men

of credit and family, gave evidence, that Oates had entered into that

seminary about Christmas in the year 1678, and had never been absent

but one night till the month of July following. Forty-seven witnesses,

persons also of untainted character, deposed that Father Ireland, on the

third of August, 1679, had gone to Staffordshire, where he resided till

the middle of September; and, what some years before would have been

regarded as a very material circumstance, nine of these witnesses were

Protestants of the church of England. Oates’s sentence was, to be fined

a thousand marks on each indictment, to be whipped on two different days

from Aldgate to Newgate, and from Newgate to Tyburn, to be imprisoned

during life, and to be pilloried five times every year. The impudence of

the man supported itself under the conviction, and his courage under the

punishment. He made solemn appeals to Heaven, and protestations of the

veracity of his testimony: though the whipping was so cruel, that it

was evidently the intention of the court to put him to death by that

punishment, he was enabled, by the care of his friends, to recover; and

he lived to King William’s reign, when a pension of four hundred pounds

a year was settled on him. A considerable number still adhered to him in

his distresses, and regarded him as the martyr of the Protestant cause.

The populace were affected with the sight of a punishment more severe

than is commonly inflicted in England. And the sentence of perpetual

imprisonment was deemed illegal.

The conviction of Oates’s perjury was taken notice of by the house of

peers. Besides freeing the Popish lords, Powis, Arundel, Bellasis, and

Tyrone, together with Danby, from the former impeachment by the commons,

they went so far as to vote a reversal of Stafford’s attainder,

on account of the falsehood of that evidence on which he had been

condemned. This bill fixed so deep a reproach on the former proceedings

of the exclusionists, that it met with great opposition among the lords;

and it was at last, after one reading, dropped by the commons. Though

the reparation of injustice be the second honor which a nation can

attain, the present emergence seemed very improper for granting so full

a justification to the Catholics, and throwing so foul a stain on the

Protestants.

The course of parliamentary proceedings was interrupted by the news of

Monmouth’s arrival in the west with three ships from Holland. No sooner

was this intelligence conveyed to the parliament, than they voted that

they would adhere to his majesty with their lives and fortunes. They

passed a bill of attainder against Monmouth; and they granted a supply

of four hundred thousand pounds for suppressing his rebellion. Having

thus strengthened the hands of the king, they adjourned themselves.

Monmouth, when ordered to depart the kingdom, during the late reign, had

retired to Holland; and as it was well known that he still enjoyed the

favor of his indulgent father, all marks of honor and distinction were

bestowed upon him by the prince of Orange. After the accession of

James, the prince thought it necessary to dismiss Monmouth and all his

followers; and that illustrious fugitive retired to Brussels. Finding

himself still pursued by the king’s severity, he was pushed, contrary

to his judgment as well as inclination, to make a rash and premature

attempt upon England. He saw that James had lately mounted the throne,

not only without opposition, but seemingly with the good will and

affections of his subjects. A parliament was sitting, which discovered

the greatest disposition to comply with the king, and whose adherence,

he knew, would give a sanction and authority to all public measures.

The grievances of this reign were hitherto of small importance; and

the people were not as yet in a disposition to remark them with great

severity. All these considerations occurred to Monmouth; but such was

the impatience of his followers, and such the precipitate humor of

Argyle, who set out for Scotland a little before him, that no reasons

could be attended to; and this unhappy man was driven upon his fate.

The imprudence, however, of this enterprise did not at first appear.

Though on his landing at Lime, in Dorsetshire, he had scarcely a hundred

followers, so popular was his name, that in four days he had assembled

above two thousand horse and foot. They were, indeed, almost all of them

the lowest of the people; and the declaration which he published was

chiefly calculated to suit the prejudices of the vulgar, or the most

bigoted of the whig party. He called the king, duke of York; and

denominated him a traitor, a tyrant, an assassin, and a Popish usurper.

He imputed to him the fire of London, the murder of Godfrey and of

Essex, nay, the poisoning of the late king. And he invited all the

people to join in opposition to his tyranny.

The duke of Albemarle, son to him who had restored the royal family,

assembled the militia of Devonshire to the number of four thousand men,

and took post at Axminster, in order to oppose the rebels; but observing

that his troops bore a great affection to Monmouth, he thought proper to

retire. Monmouth, though he had formerly given many proofs of personal

courage, had not the vigor of mind requisite for an undertaking of this

nature. From an ill-grounded diffidence of his men, he neglected to

attack Albemarle; an easy enterprise, by which he might both have

acquired credit, and have supplied himself with arms. Lord Gray, who

commanded his horse, discovered himself to be a notorious coward;

yet such was the softness of Monmouth’s nature, that Gray was still

continued in his command. Fletcher of Salton, a Scotchman, a man of

signal probity and fine genius, had been engaged by his republican

principles in this enterprise, and commanded the cavalry together with

Gray; but being insulted by one who had newly joined the army, and whose

horse he had in a hurry made use of, he was prompted by passion, to

which he was much subject to discharge a pistol at the man; and he

killed him on the spot. This incident obliged him immediately to leave

the camp; and the loss of so gallant an officer was a great prejudice to

Monmouth’s enterprise.

The next station of the rebels was Taunton, a disaffected town,

which gladly and even fondly received them, and reënforced them with

considerable numbers. Twenty young maids of some rank presented Monmouth

with a pair of colors of their handiwork, together with a copy of the

Bible. Monmouth was here persuaded to take upon him the title of king,

and assert the legitimacy of his birth; a claim which he advanced in his

first declaration, but whose discussion he was determined, he then

said, during some time to postpone. His numbers had now increased to six

thousand; and he was obliged every day, for want of arms, to dismiss a

great many who crowded to his standard. He entered Bridgewater, Wells,

Frome; and was proclaimed in all these places: but forgetting, that

such desperate enterprises can only be rendered successful by the

most adventurous courage, he allowed the expectations of the people to

languish, without attempting any considerable undertaking.

While Monmouth, by his imprudent and misplaced caution, was thus wasting

time in the west, the king employed himself in making preparations

to oppose him. Six regiments of British troops were called over from

Holland: the army was considerably augmented: and regular forces, to

the number of three thousand men, were despatched under the command of

Feversham and Churchill, in order to check the progress of the rebels.

Monmouth, observing that no considerable men joined him, finding that

an insurrection which was projected in the city had not taken place, and

hearing that Argyle, his confederate, was already defeated and taken,

sunk into such despondency, that he had once resolved to withdraw

himself, and leave his unhappy followers to their fate. His followers

expressed more courage than their leader, and seemed determined to

adhere to him in every fortune. The negligent disposition made by

Feversham, invited Monmouth to attack the king’s army at Sedgemoor, near

Bridgewater; and his men in this action showed what a native courage

and a principle of duty, even when unassisted by discipline, is able to

perform. They threw the veteran forces into disorder; drove them from

their ground; continued the fight till their ammunition failed them;

and would at last have obtained a victory, had not the misconduct of

Monmouth and the cowardice of Gray prevented it. After a combat of three

hours, the rebels gave way, and were followed with great slaughter.

About fifteen hundred fell in the battle and pursuit.

And thus was concluded in a few weeks this enterprise rashly undertaken

and feebly conducted.

[Illustration: 1-849-monmouth.jpg DUKE OF MONMOUTH]

Monmouth fled from the field of battle above twenty miles till his

horse sunk under him. He then changed clothes with a peasant in order

to conceal himself. The peasant was discovered by the pursuers, who now

redoubled the diligence of their search. At last, the unhappy Monmouth

was found, lying in the bottom of a ditch, and covered with fern; his

body depressed with fatigue and hunger; his mind by the memory of

past misfortunes, by the prospect of future disasters. Human nature is

unequal to such calamitous situations; much more the temper of a man

softened by early prosperity, and accustomed to value himself solely on

military bravery. He burst into tears when seized by his enemies; and

he seemed still to indulge the fond hope and desire of life. Though

he might have known, from the greatness of his own offences, and the

severity of James’s temper, that no mercy could be expected, he wrote

him the most submissive letters, and conjured him to spare the issue of

a brother who had ever been so strongly attached to his interest. James,

finding such symptoms of depression and despondency in the unhappy

prisoner, admitted him to his presence, in hopes of extorting a

discovery of his accomplices; but Monmouth would not purchase life,

however loved, at the price of so much infamy. Finding all efforts vain,

he assumed courage from despair, and prepared himself for death, with

a spirit better suited to his rank and character. This favorite of the

people was attended to the scaffold with a plentiful effusion of tears.

He warned the executioner not to fall into the error which he had

committed in beheading Russel, where it had been necessary to repeat the

blow. This precaution served only to dismay the executioner. He struck a

feeble blow on Monmouth, who raised his head from the block, and looked

him in the face, as if reproaching him for his failure. He gently laid

down his head a second time; and the executioner struck him again and

again to no purpose. He then threw aside the axe, and cried out that he

was incapable of finishing the bloody office. The sheriff obliged him to

renew the attempt; and at two blows more the head was severed from the

body.

Thus perished, in the thirty-sixth year of his age, a nobleman who, in

less turbulent times, was well qualified to be an ornament of the court,

even to be serviceable to his country. The favor of his prince, the

caresses of faction, and the allurements of popularity, seduced him into

enterprises which exceeded his capacity. The good will of the people

still followed him in every fortune. Even after his execution, their

fond credulity flattered them with hopes of seeing him once more at

their head. They believed, that the person executed was not Monmouth,

but one, who, having the fortune to resemble him nearly, was willing to

give this proof of his extreme attachment, and to suffer death in his

stead.

This victory, obtained by the king in the commencement of his reign,

would naturally, had it been managed with prudence, have tended much

to increase his power and authority. But by reason of the cruelty with

which it was prosecuted, and of the temerity with which it afterwards

inspired him, it was a principal cause of his sudden ruin and downfall.

Such arbitrary principles had the court instilled into all its servants,

that Feversham, immediately after the victory, hanged above twenty

prisoners; and was proceeding in his executions, when the bishop of Bath

and Wells warned him, that these unhappy men were now by law entitled

to a trial, and that their execution would be deemed a real murder. This

remonstrance, however, did not stop the savage nature of Colonel

Kirke, a soldier of fortune, who had long served at Tangiers, and had

contracted, from his intercourse with the Moors, an inhumanity less

known in European and in free countries. At his first entry into Bridge

water, he hanged nineteen prisoners without the least inquiry into the

merits of their cause. As if to make sport with death, he ordered a

certain number to be executed, while he and his company should drink

the king’s health, or the queen’s, or that of Chief Justice Jefferies.

Observing their feet to quiver in the agonies of death, he cried that he

would give them music to their dancing; and he immediately commanded

the drums to beat and the trumpets to sound. By way of experiment,

he ordered one man to be hung up three times, questioning him at each

interval, whether he repented of his crime: but the man obstinately

asserting, that notwithstanding the past, he still would willingly

engage in the same cause, Kirke ordered him to be hung in chains. One

story, commonly told of him, is memorable for the treachery, as well as

barbarity, which attended it. A young maid pleaded for the life of her

brother, and flung herself at Kirke’s feet, armed with all the charms

which beauty and innocence, bathed in tears, could bestow upon her. The

tyrant was inflamed with desire, not softened into love or clemency. He

promised to grant her request, provided that she, in her turn, would be

equally compliant to him. The maid yielded to the conditions: but after

she had passed the night with him, the wanton savage next morning showed

her from the window her brother, the darling object for whom she had

sacrificed her virtue, hanging on a gibbet, which he had secretly

ordered to be there erected for the execution. Rage, and despair, and

indignation took possession of her mind, and deprived her forever of her

senses. All the inhabitants of that country, innocent as well as guilty,

were exposed to the ravages of this barbarian. The soldiery were let

loose to live at free quarters; and his own regiment, instructed by his

example, and encouraged by his exhortations, distinguished themselves in

a particular manner by their outrages. By way of pleasantry, he used

to call them his lambs; an appellation which was long remembered with

horror in the west of England. The violent Jefferies succeeded after

some interval; and showed the people, that the rigors of law might

equal, if not exceed, the ravages of military tyranny. This man, who

wantoned in cruelty, had already given a specimen of his character in

many trials where he presided; and he now set out with a savage joy, as

to a full harvest of death and destruction. He began at Dorchester; and

thirty rebels being arraigned, he exhorted them, but in vain, to save

him, by their free confession, the trouble of trying them: and when

twenty-nine were found guilty, he ordered them, as an additional

punishment of their disobedience, to be led to immediate execution. Most

of the other prisoners, terrified with this example, pleaded guilty; and

no less than two hundred and ninety-two received sentence at Dorchester.

Of these, eighty were executed. Exeter was the next stage of his

cruelty: two hundred and forty-three were there tried, of whom a great

number were condemned and executed. He also opened his commission at

Taunton and Wells; and every where carried consternation along with him.

The juries were so struck with his menaces, that they gave their verdict

with precipitation; and many innocent persons, it is said, were involved

with the guilty. And on the whole, besides those who were butchered by

the military commanders, two hundred and fifty-one are computed to have

fallen by the hand of justice. The whole country was strowed with

the heads and limbs of traitors. Every village almost beheld the

dead carcass of a wretched inhabitant. And all the rigors of justice,

unabated by any appearance of clemency, were fully displayed to the

people by the inhuman Jefferies.

Of all the executions, during this dismal period, the most remarkable

were those of Mrs. Gaunt and Lady Lisle, who had been accused of

harboring traitors. Mrs. Gaunt was an Anabaptist, noted for her

beneficence, which she extended to persons of all profession and

persuasions. One of the rebels, knowing her humane disposition, had

recourse to her in his distress, and was concealed by her. Hearing of

the proclamation, which offered an indemnity and rewards to such as

discovered criminals, he betrayed his benefactress, and bore evidence

against her. He received a pardon as a recompense for his treachery; she

was burned alive for her charity.

Lady Lisle was widow of one of the regicides, who had enjoyed great

favor and authority under Cromwell, and who having fled, after the

restoration, to Lauzanne, in Switzerland, was there assassinated by

three Irish ruffians, who hoped to make their fortune by this piece of

service. His widow was now prosecuted for harboring two rebels the day

after the battle of Sedgemoor; and Jefferies pushed on the trial with

an unrelenting violence. In vain did the aged prisoner plead, that these

criminals had been put into no proclamation; had been convicted by no

verdict; nor could any man be denominated a traitor, till the sentence

of some legal court was passed upon him: that it appeared not by any

proof, that she was so much as acquainted with the guilt of the persons,

or had heard of their joining the rebellion of Monmouth: that though she

might be obnoxious on account of her family, it was well known that her

heart was ever loyal; and that no person in England had shed more tears

for that tragical event, in which her husband had unfortunately borne

too great a share: and that the same principles which she herself had

ever embraced, she had carefully instilled into her son; and had, at

that very time, sent him to fight against those rebels whom she was now

accused of harboring. Though these arguments did not move Jefferies,

they had influence on the jury. Twice they seemed inclined to bring in

a favorable verdict: they were as often sent back with menaces and

reproaches; and at last were constrained to give sentence against

the prisoner. Notwithstanding all applications for pardon, the cruel

sentence was executed. The king said, that he had given Jefferies a

promise not to pardon her; an excuse which could serve only to aggravate

the blame against himself.

It might have been hoped that, by all these bloody executions, a

rebellion so precipitate, so ill supported, and of such short duration,

would have been sufficiently expiated: but nothing could satiate

the spirit of rigor which possessed the administration. Even those

multitudes who received pardon, were obliged to atone for their guilt by

fines which reduced them to beggary; or where their former poverty made

them incapable of paying, they were condemned to cruel whippings or

severe imprisonments. Nor could the innocent escape the hands, no less

rapacious than cruel, of the chief justice. Prideaux, a gentleman

of Devonshire, being thrown into prison, and dreading the severe and

arbitrary spirit which at that time met with no control, was obliged to

buy his liberty of Jefferies at the price of fifteen thousand pounds;

though he could never so much as learn the crime of which he was

accused.

Goodenough, the seditious under sheriff of London, who had been engaged

in the most bloody and desperate part of the Rye-house conspiracy, was

taken prisoner after the battle of Sedgemoor, and resolved to save his

own life by an accusation of Cornish, the sheriff, whom he knew to

be extremely obnoxious to the court. Colonel Rumsey joined him in the

accusation; and the prosecution was so hastened, that the prisoner was

tried, condemned, and executed in the space of a week. The perjury of

the witnesses appeared immediately after; and the king seemed to regret

the execution of Cornish. He granted his estate to his family, and

condemned the witnesses to perpetual imprisonment.

The injustice of this sentence against Cornish was not wanted to disgust

the nation with the court: the continued rigor of the other executions

had already impressed a universal hatred against the ministers of

justice, attended with compassion for the unhappy sufferers, who, as

they had been seduced into this crime by mistaken principles, bore their

punishment with the spirit and zeal of martyrs. The people might have

been willing on this occasion to distinguish between the king and his

ministers: but care was taken to prove, that the latter had done nothing

but what was agreeable to their master. Jefferies, on his return, was

immediately, for those eminent services, created a peer; and was soon

after vested with the dignity of chancellor. It is pretended, however,

with some appearance of authority, that the king was displeased with

these cruelties, and put a stop to them by orders, as soon as proper

information of them was conveyed to him.[*]

* Life of Lord Keeper North, p. 260. K. James’s Memoirs, p,

144.

We must now take a view of the state of affairs in Scotland; where the

fate of Argyle had been decided before that of Monmouth. Immediately

after the king’s accession, a parliament had been summoned at Edinburgh;

and all affairs were there conducted by the duke of Queensberry the

commissioner, and the earl of Perth chancellor. The former had resolved

to make an entire surrender of the liberties of his country; but was

determined still to adhere to its religion: the latter entertained no

scruple of paying court even by the sacrifice of both. But no courtier,

even the most prostitute, could go further than the parliament itself

towards a resignation of their liberties. In a vote, which they called

an offer of duty, after adopting the fabulous history of a hundred and

eleven Scottish monarchs, they acknowledged, that all these princes,

by the primary and fundamental law of the state, had been vested with

a solid and absolute authority. They declared their abhorrence of all

principles and positions derogatory to the king’s sacred, supreme,

sovereign, absolute power, of which none, they said, whether single

persons or collective bodies, can participate, but in dependence on

him, and by commission from him. They promised, that the whole nation,

between sixteen and sixty, shall be in readiness for his majesty’s

service, where and as oft as it shall be his royal pleasure to require

them. And they annexed the whole excise, both of inland and foreign

commodities, forever to the crown.

All the other acts of this assembly savored of the same spirit. They

declared it treason for any person to refuse the test, if tendered

by the council. To defend the obligation of the covenant, subjected a

person to the same penalty. To be present at any conventicle, was made

punishable with death and confiscation of movables. Even such as refused

to give testimony, either in cases of treason or nonconformity, were

declared equally punishable as if guilty of those very crimes; an

excellent prelude to all the rigors of an inquisition. It must be

confessed, that nothing could equal the abject servility of the

Scottish nation during this period but the arbitrary severity of the

administration.

It was in vain that Argyle summoned a people so lost to all sense of

liberty, so degraded by repeated indignities, to rise in vindication

of their violated laws and privileges. Even those who declared for him,

were, for the greater part, his own vassals; men who, if possible, were

still more sunk in slavery than the rest of the nation. He arrived,

after a prosperous voyage, in Argyleshire, attended by some fugitives

from Holland; among the rest, by Sir Patrick Hume, a man of mild

dispositions, who had been driven to this extremity by a continued train

of oppression. The privy council was beforehand apprised of Argyle’s

intentions. The whole militia of the kingdom, to the number of

twenty-two thousand men, were already in arms; and a third part of them,

with the regular forces, were on their march to oppose him. All the

considerable gentry of his clan were thrown into prison. And two

ships of war were on the coast to watch his motions. Under all these

discouragements he yet made a shift, partly from terror, partly from

affection, to collect and arm a body of about two thousand five hundred

men; but soon found himself surrounded on all sides with insuperable

difficulties. His arms and ammunition were seized, his provisions cut

off: the marquis of Athole pressed him on one side; Lord Charles Murray

on another; the duke of Gordon hung upon his rear; the earl of Dunbarton

met him in front. His followers daily fell off from him; but Argyle,

resolute to persevere, broke at last with the shattered remains of his

troops into the disaffected part of the low countries, which he had

endeavored to allure to him by declarations for the covenant. No one

showed either courage or inclination to join him; and his small and

still decreasing army, after wandering about for a little time, was at

last defeated and dissipated without an enemy. Argyle himself was seized

and carried to Edinburgh, where, after enduring many indignities with

a gallant spirit, he was publicly executed. He suffered on the former

unjust sentence which had been passed upon him. The rest of his

followers either escaped or were punished by transportation: Rumbold and

Ayloffe, two Englishmen who had attended Argyle on this expedition, were

executed.

The king was so elated with this continued tide of prosperity, that he

began to undervalue even an English parliament, at all times formidable

to his family; and from his speech to that assembly, which he had

assembled early in the winter, he seems to have thought himself exempted

from all rules of prudence or necessity of dissimulation. He plainly

told the two houses, that the militia, which had formerly been so much

magnified, was now found, by experience in the last rebellion, to be

altogether useless; and he required a new supply, in order to maintain

those additional forces which he had levied. He also took notice that he

had employed a great many Catholic officers, and that he had, in their

favor, dispensed with the law requiring the test to be taken by every

one that possessed any public office. And to cut short all opposition,

he declared, that, having reaped the benefit of their service during

such times of danger he was determined neither to expose them afterwards

to disgrace, nor himself, in case of another rebellion, to the want of

their assistance.

Such violent aversion did this parliament bear to opposition so great

dread had been instilled of the consequences attending any breach with

the king, that it is probable, had he used his dispensing power without

declaring it, no inquiries would have been made, and time might have

reconciled the nation to this dangerous exercise of prerogative. But

to invade at once their constitution, to threaten their religion,

to establish a standing army, and even to require them, by their

concurrence, to contribute towards all these measures, exceeded the

bounds of their patience; and they began, for the first time, to display

some small remains of English spirit and generosity. When the king’s

speech was taken into consideration by the commons, many severe

reflections were thrown out against the present measures; and the house

was with seeming difficulty engaged to promise, in a general vote, that

they would grant some supply. But instead of finishing that business,

which could alone render them acceptable to the king, they proceeded

to examine the dispensing power; and they voted an address to the

king against it. Before this address was presented, they resumed the

consideration of the supply; and as one million two hundred thousand

pounds were demanded by the court, and two hundred thousand proposed

by the country party, a middle course was chosen, and seven hundred

thousand, after some dispute, were at last voted. The address against

the dispensing power was expressed in the most respectful and submissive

terms; yet was it very ill received by the king; and his answer

contained a flat denial, uttered with great warmth and vehemence. The

commons were so daunted with this reply, that they kept silence a long

time; and when Coke, member for Derby, rose up and said, “I hope we

are all Englishmen, and not to be frightened with a few hard words,”

so little spirit appeared in that assembly, often so refractory and

mutinous, that they sent him to the Tower for bluntly expressing a free

and generous sentiment. They adjourned without fixing a day for the

consideration of his majesty’s answer: and on their next meeting, they

submissively proceeded to the consideration of the supply, and even went

so far as to establish funds for paying the sum voted in nine years and

a half. The king, therefore, had in effect, almost without contest or

violence, obtained a complete victory over the commons; and that

assembly, instead of guarding their liberties, now exposed to manifest

peril, conferred an additional revenue on the crown; and, by rendering

the king in some degree independent, contributed to increase those

dangers with which they had so much reason to be alarmed.

The next opposition came from the house of peers, which has not commonly

taken the lead on these occasions; and even from the bench of

bishops, where the court usually expects the greatest complaisance and

submission. The upper house had been brought, in the first days of

the session, to give general thanks for the king’s speech; by which

compliment they were understood, according to the practice of that time,

to have acquiesced in every part of it: yet notwithstanding that step,

Compton, bishop of London, in his own name and that of his brethren,

moved that a day should be appointed for taking the speech into

consideration: he was seconded by Halifax, Nottingham, and Mordaunt.

Jefferies, the chancellor, opposed the motion; and seemed inclined to

use in that house the same arrogance to which on the bench he had so

long been accustomed: but he was soon taught to know his place; and he

proved, by his behavior, that insolence, when checked, naturally sinks

into meanness and cowardice. The bishop of London’s motion prevailed.

The king might reasonably have presumed, that, even if the peers should

so far resume courage as to make an application against his dispensing

power, the same steady answer which he had given to the commons would

make them relapse into the same timidity; and he might by that means

have obtained a considerable supply, without making any concessions in

return. But so imperious was his temper, so lofty the idea which he had

entertained of his own authority, and so violent the schemes suggested

by his own bigotry and that of his priests, that, without any delay,

without waiting for any further provocation, he immediately proceeded to

a prorogation. He continued the parliament during a year and a half

by four more prorogations; but having in vain tried, by separate

applications, to break the obstinacy of the leading members, he at last

dissolved that assembly. And as it was plainly impossible for him to

find among his Protestant subjects a set of men more devoted to royal

authority, it was universally concluded, that he intended thenceforth to

govern entirely without parliaments.

Never king mounted the throne of England with greater advantages than

James; nay, possessed greater facility, if that were any advantage, of

rendering himself and his posterity absolute: but all these fortunate

circumstances tended only, by his own misconduct, to bring more sudden

ruin upon him. The nation seemed disposed of themselves to resign their

liberties, had he not, at the same time, made an attempt upon their

religion: and he might even have succeeded in surmounting at once

their liberties and religion, had he conducted his schemes with common

prudence and discretion. Openly to declare to the parliament, so

early in his reign, his intention to dispense with the tests, struck a

universal alarm throughout the nation; infused terror into the church,

which had hitherto been the chief support of monarchy; and even

disgusted the army, by whose means alone he could now purpose to govern.

The former horror against Popery was revived by polemical books and

sermons; and in every dispute the victory seemed to be gained by the

Protestant divines, who were heard with more favorable ears, and who

managed the controversy with more learning and eloquence. But another

incident happened at this time, which tended mightily to excite the

animosity of the nation against the Catholic communion.

Lewis XIV., having long harassed and molested the Protestants, at last

revoked entirely the edict of Nantz; which had been enacted by Henry IV.

for securing them the free exercise of their religion; which had

been declared irrevocable; and which, during the experience of near

a century, had been attended with no sensible inconvenience. All the

iniquities inseparable from persecution were exercised against those

unhappy religionists; who became obstinate in proportion to the

oppressions which they suffered, and either covered under a feigned

conversion a more violent abhorrence of the Catholic communion, or

sought among foreign nations for that liberty of which they were

bereaved in their native country. Above half a million of the most

useful and industrious subjects deserted France; and exported, together

with immense sums of money, those arts and manufactures which had

chiefly tended to enrich that kingdom. They propagated every where

the most tragical accounts of the tyranny exercised against them; and

revived among the Protestants all that resentment against the bloody and

persecuting spirit of Popery, to which so many incidents in all ages had

given too much foundation. Near fifty thousand refugees passed over into

England; and all men were disposed, from their representations, to

entertain, the utmost horror against the projects which they apprehended

to be formed by the king for the abolition of the Protestant religion.

When a prince of so much humanity and of such signal prudence as Lewis

could be engaged, by the bigotry of his religion alone, without any

provocation, to embrace such sanguinary and impolitic measures, what

might be dreaded, they asked, from James, who was so much inferior in

these virtues, and who had already been irritated by such obstinate and

violent opposition? In vain did the king affect to throw the highest

blame on the persecutions in France: in vain did he afford the most real

protection and assistance to the distressed Hugonots. All these symptoms

of toleration were regarded as insidious; opposite to the avowed

principles of his sect, and belied by the severe administration which he

himself had exercised against the nonconformists in Scotland.

The smallest approach towards the introduction of Popery, must, in the

present disposition of the people, have afforded reason of jealousy;

much more so wide a step as that of dispensing with the tests, the sole

security which the nation, being disappointed of the exclusion bill,

found provided against those dreaded innovations. Yet was the king

resolute to persevere in his purpose; and having failed in bringing over

the parliament, he made an attempt, with more success, for establishing

his dispensing power by a verdict of the judges. Sir Edward Hales, a

new proselyte, had accepted a commission of colonel; and directions

were given his coachman to prosecute him for the penalty of five hundred

pounds, which the law, establishing the tests, had granted to informers.

By this feigned action the king hoped, both from the authority of the

decision, and the reason of the thing, to put an end to all questions

with regard to his dispensing power.

It could not be expected that the lawyers appointed to plead against

Hales would exert great force on that occasion: but the cause was

regarded with such anxiety by the public, that it has been thoroughly

canvassed in several elaborate discourses;[*] and could men divest

themselves of prejudice, there want not sufficient materials on which to

form a true judgment.

* Particularly Sir Edward Herbert’s defence in the State

Trials, and Sir Robert Atkins’s Inquiry concerning the

Dispensing Power.

The claim and exercise of the dispensing power is allowed to be very

ancient in England; and though it seems at first to have been copied

from Papal usurpations, it may plainly be traced up as high as the reign

of Henry III. In the feudal governments, men were more anxious to secure

their private property than to share in the public administration; and

provided no innovations were attempted on their rights and possessions,

the care of executing the laws, and insuring general safety, was,

without jealousy, intrusted to the sovereign. Penal statutes were

commonly intended to arm the prince with more authority for that

purpose: and being in the main calculated for promoting his influence

as first magistrate, there seemed no danger in allowing him to dispense

with their execution, in such particular cases as might require an

exception or indulgence. That practice had so much prevailed, that the

parliament itself had more than once acknowledged this prerogative of

the crown; particularly during the reign of Henry V., when they enacted

the law against aliens,[*] and also when they passed the statute of

provisors.[**]

* Rot. Parl. I Hen. V. n. xv.

** Ibid. I Hen. V. n. xxii. It is remarkable, however, that

in the reign of Richard II. the parliament granted the king

only a temporary power of dispensing with the statute of

provisors. Rot. Parl. 15 Rich.[** 15 is a best guess] II. n.

i.: a plain implication that he had not, of himself, such

prerogative. So uncertain were many of these points at that

time.

But though the general tenor of the penal statutes was such as gave the

king a superior interest in their execution, beyond any of his subjects,

it could not but sometimes happen in a mixed government, that the

parliament would desire to enact laws by which the regal power, in some

particulars, even where private property was not immediately concerned,

might be regulated and restrained. In the twenty-third of Henry VI.,

a law of this kind was enacted, prohibiting any man from serving in a

county as sheriff above a year; and a clause was inserted, by which the

king was disabled from granting a dispensation. Plain reason might have

taught, that this law, at least, should be exempted from the king’s

prerogative: but as the dispensing power still prevailed in other cases,

it was soon able, aided by the servility of the courts of judicature,

even to overpower this statute, which the legislature had evidently

intended to secure against violation. In the reign of Henry VII., the

case was brought to a trial before all the judges in the exchequer

chamber; and it was decreed, that, notwithstanding the strict clause

above mentioned, the king might dispense with the statute: he could

first, it was alleged, dispense with the prohibitory clause, and then

with the statute itself. This opinion of the judges, though seemingly

absurd, had ever since passed for undoubted law; the practice of

continuing the sheriffs had prevailed: and most of the property in

England had been fixed by decisions which juries, returned by

such sheriffs, had given in the courts of judicature. Many other

dispensations of a like nature may be produced; not only such as took

place by intervals, but such as were uniformly continued. Thus the

law was dispensed with, which prohibited any man from going a judge of

assize into his own county; that which rendered all Welshmen incapable

of bearing offices in Wales; and that which required every one who

received a pardon for felony, to find sureties for his good behavior.

In the second of James I., a new consultation of all the judges had

been held upon a like question: this prerogative of the crown was again

unanimously affirmed,[*] and it became an established principle in

English jurisprudence, that, though the king could not allow of what was

morally unlawful, he could permit what was only prohibited by positive

statute. Even the jealous house of commons who extorted the petition of

right from Charles I., made no scruple, by the mouth of Glanville, their

manager, to allow of the dispensing power in its full extent;[**] and

in the famous trial of ship money, Holborne, the popular lawyer, had

freely, and in the most explicit terms, made the same concession.[***]

Sir Edward Coke, the great oracle of English law, had not only concurred

with all other lawyers in favor of this prerogative, but seems even to

believe it so inherent in the crown, that an act of parliament itself

could not abolish it.[****] And he particularly observes, that no law

can impose such a disability of enjoying offices as the king may not

dispense with; because the king, from the law of nature, has a right to

the service of all his subjects.

* Sir Edward Coke’s Reports, seventh report.

** State Trials, vol. ii. first edit. p. 205. Parl. Hist.

vol. viii, p. 132.

*** State Trials, vol. v. first edit. p. 171.

**** Sir Edward Coke’s Reports, twelfth report, p. 18. our

ancestors were, to depend upon his prudence and discretion

in the exercise of them.

This particular reason, as well as all the general principles,

is applicable to the question of the tests; nor can the dangerous

consequence of granting dispensations in that case be ever allowed to be

pleaded before a court of judicature. Every prerogative of the crown, it

may be said, admits of abuse: should the king pardon all criminals, law

must be totally dissolved: should he declare and continue perpetual war

against all nations, inevitable ruin must ensue: yet these powers are

intrusted to the sovereign.

Though this reasoning seems founded on such principles as are

usually admitted by lawyers, the people had entertained such violent

prepossessions against the use which James here made of his prerogative,

that he was obliged, before he brought on Hales’s cause, to displace

four of the judges, Jones, Montague, Charleton, and Nevil; and even Sir

Edward Herbert, the chief justice, though a man of acknowledged virtue,

yet, because he here supported the pretensions of the crown, was exposed

to great and general reproach. Men deemed a dispensing to be in effect

the same with a repealing power; and they could not conceive, that less

authority was necessary to repeal than to enact any statute, if one

penal law was dispensed with, any other might undergo the same fate:

and by what principle could even the laws which define property be

afterwards secured from violation? The test act had ever been conceived

the great barrier of the established religion under a Popish successor:

as such it had been insisted on by the parliament; as such granted by

the king; as such, during the debates with regard to the exclusion,

recommended by the chancellor. By what magic, what chicane of law, is it

now annihilated, and rendered of no validity? These questions were every

where asked; and men, straitened by precedents and decisions of great

authority, were reduced either to question the antiquity of this

prerogative itself, or to assert, that even the practice of near five

centuries could not bestow on it sufficient authority.[*]

* Sir Robert Atkins, p. 21.

It was not considered, that the present difficulty or seeming absurdity

had proceeded from late innovations introduced into the government. Ever

since the beginning of this century, the parliament had, with a laudable

zeal, been acquiring powers and establishing principles favorable to

law and liberty: the authority of the crown had been limited in many

important particulars: and penal statutes were often calculated to

secure the constitution against the attempts of ministers, as well as

to preserve general peace, and repress crimes and immoralities. A

prerogative, however, derived from very ancient and almost uniform

practice, the dispensing power, still remained, or was supposed to

remain, with the crown; sufficient in an instant to overturn this

whole fabric, and to throw down all fences of the constitution. If this

prerogative, which carries on the face of it such strong symptoms of an

absolute authority in the prince, had yet, in ancient times, subsisted

with some degree of liberty in the subject, this fact only proves

that scarcely any human government, much less one erected in rude and

barbarous times, is entirely consistent and uniform in all its parts.

But to expect that the dispensing power could, in any degree, be

rendered compatible with those accurate and regular limitations which

had of late been established, and which the people were determined to

maintain, was a vain hope; and though men knew not upon what principles

they could deny that prerogative, they saw that, if they would preserve

their laws and constitution, there was an absolute necessity for

denying, at least for abolishing it. The revolution alone, which soon

succeeded, happily put an end to all these disputes: by means of it, a

more uniform edifice was at last erected: the monstrous inconsistence,

so visible between the ancient Gothic parts of the fabric and the recent

plans of liberty, was fully corrected; and, to their mutual felicity,

King and people were finally taught to know their proper boundaries.[*]

* It is remarkable, that the convention, summoned by the

prince of Orange, did not, even when they had the making of

their own terms in the declaration of rights, venture to

condemn the dispensing power in general, which had been

uniformly exercised by the former kings of England. They

only condemned it so far, as it had been assumed and

exercised of late, without being able to tell wherein the

difference lay. But in the bill of rights, which passed

about a twelvemonth after the parliament took care to secure

themselves more effectually against a branch of prerogative

incompatible with all legal liberty and limitations; and

they excluded, in positive terms, all dispensing power in

the crown. Yet even then the house of lords rejected that

clause of the bill which condemned the exercise of this

power in former kings, and obliged the commons to rest

content with abolishing it for the future. There needs no

other proof of the irregular nature of the old English

government, than the existence of such a prerogative, always

exercised and never questioned, till the acquisition of real

liberty discovered, at last, the danger of it. See the

Journals.

Whatever topics lawyers might find to defend James’s dispensing power,

the nation thought it dangerous, if not fatal, to liberty; and his

resolution of exercising it may on that account be esteemed no less

alarming, than if the power had been founded on the most recent and most

flagrant usurpation. It was not likely, that an authority which had been

assumed through so many obstacles, would in his hands lie long idle and

unemployed. Four Catholic lords were brought into the privy

council, Powis, Arundel, Bellasis, and Dover. Halifax, finding that,

notwithstanding his past merits, he possessed no real credit or

authority, became refractory in his opposition; and his office of privy

seal was given to Arundel. The king was open, as well as zealous, in

the desire of making converts; and men plainly saw, that the only way

to acquire his affection and confidence was by a sacrifice of their

religion. Sunderland, some time after, scrupled not to gain favor at

this price, Rochester the treasurer, though the king’s brother-in-law,

yet, because he refused to give this instance of complaisance, was

turned out of his office; the treasury was put in commission, and

Bellasis was placed at the head of it. All the courtiers were disgusted,

even such as had little regard to religion. The dishonor, as well as

distrust, attending renegades, made most men resolve, at all hazards, to

adhere to their ancient faith.

In Scotland, James’s zeal for proselytism was more successful. The earls

of Murray, Perth, and Melfort were brought over to the court religion;

and the two latter noblemen made use of a very courtly reason for their

conversion: they pretended, that the papers found in the late king’s

cabinet had opened their eyes, and had convinced them of the preference

due to the Catholic religion. Queensberry, who showed not the same

complaisance, fell into total disgrace, notwithstanding his former

services, and the important sacrifices which he had made to the measures

of the court. These merits could not even insure him of safety against

the vengeance to which he stood exposed. His rival, Perth, who had been

ready to sink under his superior interest, now acquired the ascendant;

and all the complaints exhibited against him were totally obliterated.

His faith, according to a saying of Halifax, had made him whole.

But it was in Ireland chiefly that the mask was wholly taken off, and

that the king thought himself at liberty to proceed to the full extent

of his zeal and his violence. The duke of Ormond was recalled; and

though the primate and Lord Granard, two Protestants, still possessed

the authority of justices, the whole power was lodged in the hands of

Talbot, the general, soon after created earl of Tyrconnel; a man

who, from the blindness of his prejudices and fury of his temper, was

transported with the most immeasurable ardor for the Catholic cause.

After the suppression of Monmouth’s rebellion, orders were given by

Tyrconnel to disarm all the Protestants, on pretence of securing the

public peace, and keeping their arms in a few magazines for the use

of the militia. Next, the army was new modelled; and a great number of

officers were dismissed, because it was pretended that they or their

fathers had served under Cromwell and the republic. The injustice was

not confined to them. Near three hundred officers more were afterwards

broken, though many of them had purchased their commissions: about four

or five thousand private soldiers, because they were Protestants, were

dismissed; and being stripped even of their regimentals, were turned

out to starve in the streets. While these violences were carrying on,

Clarendon, who had been named lord lieutenant, came over; but he soon

found, that, as he had refused to give the king the desired pledge of

fidelity by changing his religion, he possessed no credit or authority.

He was even a kind of prisoner in the hands of Tyrconnel: and as he

gave all opposition in his power to the precipitate measures of the

Catholics, he was soon after recalled, and Tyrconnel substituted in his

place. The unhappy Protestants now saw all the civil authority, as well

as the military force, transferred into the *hands of their inveterate

enemies; inflamed with hereditary hatred, and stimulated by every motive

which the passion either for power, property, or religion could inspire.

Even the barbarous banditti were let loose to prey on them in their

present defenceless condition. A renewal of the ancient massacres was

apprehended; and great multitudes, struck with the best-grounded terror,

deserted the kingdom, and infused into the English nation a dread of

those violences to which, after some time, they might justly, from the

prevalence of the Catholics, think themselves exposed.

All judicious persons of the Catholic communion were disgusted with

these violent measures, and could easily foresee the consequences. But

James was entirely governed by the rash counsels of the queen and of his

confessor, Father Peters, a Jesuit, whom he soon after created a privy

counsellor. He thought too, that, as he was now in the decline of life,

it was necessary for him, by hasty steps, to carry his designs into

execution; lest the succession of the princess of Orange should overturn

all his projects. In vain did Arundel, Powis, and Bellasis, remonstrate,

and suggest more moderate and cautious measures. These men had seen and

felt, during the prosecution of the Popish plot, the extreme antipathy

which the nation bore to their religion; and though some subsequent

incidents had seemingly allayed that spirit, they knew that the settled

habits of the people were still the same, and that the smallest

incident was sufficient to renew the former animosity. A very moderate

indulgence, therefore, to the Catholic religion would have satisfied

them; and all attempts to acquire power, much more to produce a change

of the national faith, they deemed dangerous and destructive.

On the first broaching of the Popish plot, the clergy of the church of

England had concurred in the prosecution of it, with the same violence

and credulity as the rest of the nation: but dreading afterwards the

prevalence of republican and Presbyterian principles, they had been

engaged to support the measures of the court; and to their assistance

chiefly, James had owed his succession to the crown. Finding that all

these services were forgotten, and that the Catholic religion was the

king’s sole favorite, the church had commenced an opposition to court

measures; and Popery was now acknowledged the more immediate danger.

In order to prevent inflammatory sermons on this popular subject, James

revived some directions to preachers, which had been promulgated by the

late king, in the beginning of his reign, when no design against the

national religion was yet formed, or at least apprehended. But in the

present delicate and interesting situation of the church, there was

little reason to expect that orders, founded on no legal authority,

would be rigidly obeyed by preachers, who saw no security to themselves

but in preserving the confidence and regard of the people. Instead of

avoiding controversy, according to the king’s injunctions, the preachers

every where declaimed against Popery; and among the rest, Dr. Sharpe, a

clergyman of London, particularly distinguished himself, and affected

to throw great contempt on those who had been induced to change their

religion by such pitiful arguments as the Romish missionaries could

suggest. This topic, being supposed to reflect on the king, gave great

offence at court; and positive orders were issued to the bishop of

London, his diocesan, immediately to suspend Sharpe, till his majesty’s

pleasure should be further known. The prelate replied, that he could not

possibly obey these commands; But that he was not empowered, in such

a summary manner, to inflict any punishment even upon the greatest

delinquent. But neither this obvious reason, nor the most dutiful

submissions, both of the prelate and of Sharpe himself, could appease

the court. The king was determined to proceed with violence in the

prosecution of this affair. The bishop himself he resolved to punish for

disobedience to his commands; and the expedient which he employed

for that purpose, was of a nature at once the most illegal and most

alarming.

* D’Avaux, January 10, 1687.

Among all the engines of authority formerly employed by the crown, none

had been more dangerous or even destructive to liberty, than the court

of high commission, which, together with the star chamber, had been

abolished in the reign of Charles I. by act of parliament; in which a

clause was also inserted, prohibiting the erection, in all future times,

of that court, or any of a like nature. But this law was deemed by James

no obstacle; and an ecclesiastical commission was anew issued, by which

seven commissioners[*] were vested with full and unlimited authority

over the church of England.

* The persons named were, the archbishop of Canterbury,

Sancroft; the bishop of Durham, Crew; of Rochester, Sprat;

the earl of Rochester, Sunderland, Chancellor Jeffries, and

Lord Chief Justice Herbert. The archbishop refused to act

and the bishop of Chester was substituted in his place.

On them were bestowed the same inquisitorial powers possessed by the

former court of high commission: they might proceed upon bare suspicion;

and the better to set the law at defiance, it was expressly inserted

in their patent itself, that they were to exercise their jurisdiction,

notwithstanding any law or statute to the contrary. The king’s design

to subdue the church was now sufficiently known; and had he been able

to establish the authority of this new-erected court, his success was

infallible. A more sensible blow could not be given both to national

liberty and religion; and happily the contest could not be tried in a

cause more iniquitous and unpopular than that against Sharpe and the

bishop of London.

The prelate was cited before the commissioners. After denying the

legality of the court, and claiming the privilege of all Christian

bishops, to be tried by the metropolitan and his suffragans, he pleaded

in his own defence, that as he was obliged, if he had suspended Sharpe,

to act in the capacity of a judge, he could not, consistent either with

law or equity, pronounce sentence without a previous citation and trial:

that he had by petition represented this difficulty to his majesty; and

not receiving any answer, he had reason to think that his petition had

given entire satisfaction: that in order to show further his deference,

he had advised Sharpe to abstain from preaching, till he had justified

his conduct to the king; an advice which, coming from a superior,

was equivalent to a command, and had accordingly met with the proper

obedience: that he had thus, in his apprehension, conformed himself to

his majesty’s pleasure; but if he should still be found wanting to his

duty in any particular, he was now willing to crave pardon, and to make

reparation. All this submission, both in Sharpe and the prelate, had no

effect: it was determined to have an example: orders were accordingly

sent to the commissioners to proceed: and by a majority of votes, the

bishop, as well as the doctor, was suspended.

Almost the whole of this short reign consists of attempts, always

imprudent, often illegal, sometimes both, against whatever was most

loved and revered by the nation: even such schemes of the king’s as

might be laudable in themselves were so disgraced by his intentions,

that they serve only to aggravate the charge against him. James

was become a great patron of toleration, and an enemy to all those

persecuting laws which, from the influence of the church, had been

enacted both against the dissenters and Catholics. Not content with

granting dispensations to particular persons, he assumed a power of

issuing a declaration of general indulgence, and of suspending at

once all the penal statutes by which a conformity was required to

the established religion. This was a strain of authority, it must be

confessed, quite inconsistent with law and a limited constitution; yet

was it supported by many strong precedents in the history of England.

Even after the principles of liberty were become more prevalent, and

began to be well understood, the late king had, oftener than once, and

without giving much umbrage, exerted this dangerous power: he had, in

1662, suspended the execution of a law which regulated carriages: during

the two Dutch wars, he had twice suspended the act of navigation: and

the commons, in 1666, being resolved, contrary to the king’s judgment,

to enact that iniquitous law against the importation of Irish

cattle, found it necessary, in order to obviate the exercise of this

prerogative, which they desired not at that time entirely to deny or

abrogate, to call that importation a nuisance.

Though the former authority of the sovereign was great in civil affairs,

it was still greater in ecclesiastical; and the whole despotic power

of the popes was often believed, in virtue of the supremacy, to have

devolved to the crown. The last parliament of Charles I., by abolishing

the power of the king and convocation to frame canons without consent

of parliament, had somewhat diminished the supposed extent of the

supremacy; but still very considerable remains of it, at least very

important claims, were preserved, and were occasionally made use of

by the sovereign. In 1662, Charles, pleading both the rights of his

supremacy and his suspending power, had granted a general indulgence

or toleration; and, in 1672, he renewed the same edict: though the

remonstrances of his parliament obliged him, on both occasions, to

retract; and, in the last instance, the triumph of law over prerogative

was deemed very great and memorable. In general, we may remark that,

where the exercise of the suspending power was agreeable and useful,

the power itself was little questioned: where the exercise was thought

liable to exceptions, men not only opposed it, but proceeded to deny

altogether the legality of the prerogative on which it was founded.

James, more imprudent and arbitrary than his predecessor, issued his

proclamation, suspending all the penal laws in ecclesiastical affairs,

and granting a general liberty of conscience to all his subjects. He was

not deterred by the reflection, both that this scheme of indulgence was

already blasted by two fruitless attempts; and that in such a government

as that of England, it was not sufficient that a prerogative be approved

of by some lawyers and antiquaries: if it was condemned by the general

voice of the nation, and yet was still exerted, the victory over

national liberty was no less signal than if obtained by the most

flagrant injustice and usurpation. These two considerations, indeed,

would rather serve to recommend this project to James; who deemed

himself superior in vigor and activity to his brother, and who probably

thought that his people enjoyed no liberties but by his royal concession

and indulgence.

In order to procure a better reception for his edict of toleration, the

king, finding himself opposed by the church, began to pay court to the

dissenters; and he imagined that, by playing one party against another,

he should easily obtain the victory over both: a refined policy which it

much exceeded his capacity to conduct. His intentions were so obvious,

that it was impossible for him ever to gain the sincere confidence

and regard of the nonconformists. They knew that the genius of their

religion was diametrically opposite to that of the Catholics, the

sole object of the king’s affection. They were sensible, that both the

violence of his temper, and the maxims of his religion, were repugnant

to the principles of toleration They had seen that, on his accession, as

well as during his brother’s reign, he had courted the church at their

expense; and it was not till his dangerous schemes were rejected by the

prelates, that he had recourse to the nonconformists. All his favors,

therefore, must, to every man of judgment among the sectaries, have

appeared insidious: yet such was the pleasure reaped from present ease,

such the animosity of the dissenters against the church, who had so

long subjected them to the rigors of persecution, that they every where

expressed the most entire duty to the king, and compliance with his

measures; and could not forbear rejoicing extremely in the present

depression of their adversaries.

But had the dissenters been ever so much inclined to shut their eyes

with regard to the king’s intentions, the manner of conducting his

scheme in Scotland was sufficient to discover the secret. The king first

applied to the Scottish parliament, and desired an indulgence for the

Catholics alone, without comprehending the Presbyterians: but that

assembly, though more disposed than even the parliament of England

to sacrifice their civil liberties, resolved likewise to adhere

pertinaciously to their religion; and they rejected, for the first time,

the king’s application. James therefore found himself obliged to exert

his prerogative; and he now thought it prudent to interest a party

among his subjects, besides the Catholics, in supporting this act of

authority. To the surprise of the harassed and persecuted Presbyterians,

they heard the principles of toleration every where extolled, and found

that full permission was granted to attend conventicles; an offence

which, even during this reign, had been declared no less than a capital

enormity. The king’s declaration, however, of indulgence, contained

clauses sufficient to depress their joy. As if Popery were already

predominant, he declared, “that he never would use force or invincible

necessity against any man on account of his persuasion of the Protestant

religion;” a promise surely of toleration given to the Protestants with

great precaution, and admitting a considerable latitude for persecution

and violence. It is likewise remarkable, that the king declared in

express terms, “that he had thought fit, by his sovereign authority,

prerogative royal, and absolute power, which all his subjects were to

obey, without reserve, to grant this royal toleration.”

The dangerous designs of other princes are to be collected by a

comparison of their several actions, or by a discovery of their more

secret counsels: but so blinded was James with zeal, so transported

by his imperious temper, that even his proclamations and public edicts

contain expressions which, without further inquiry, may suffice to his

condemnation.

The English well knew that the king, by the constitution of their

government, thought himself entitled, as indeed he was, to as ample

authority in his southern as in his northern kingdom; and therefore,

though the declaration of indulgence published for England was more

cautiously expressed, they could not but be alarmed by the arbitrary

treatment to which their neighbors were exposed. It is even remarkable,

that the English declaration contained clauses of a strange import. The

king there promised, that he would maintain his loving subjects in all

their properties and possessions, as well of church and abbey lands as

of any other. Men thought that, if the full establishment of Popery were

not at hand, this promise was quite superfluous; and they concluded,

that the king was so replete with joy on the prospect of that glorious

event, that he could not, even for a moment, refrain from expressing it.

But what afforded the most alarming prospect, was the continuance and

even increase of the violent and precipitate conduct of affairs in

Ireland. Tyrconnel was now vested with full authority; and carried over

with him as chancellor one Fitton, a man who was taken from a jail, and

who had been convicted of forgery and other crimes, but who compensated

for all his enormities by a headlong zeal for the Catholic religion.

He was even heard to say from the bench, that the Protestants were all

rogues, and that there was not one among forty thousand that was not a

traitor, a rebel, and a villain. The whole strain of the administration

was suitable to such sentiments. The Catholics were put in possession

of the council table, of the courts of judicature, and of the bench

of justices. In order to make them masters of the parliament, the same

violence was exercised that had been practised in England. The charters

of Dublin and of all the corporations were annulled; and new charters

were granted, subjecting the corporations to the will of the sovereign.

The Protestant freemen were expelled, Catholics introduced; and the

latter sect, as they always were the majority in number, were now

invested with the whole power of the kingdom. The act of settlement was

the only obstacle to their enjoying the whole property; and Tyrconnel

had formed a scheme for calling a parliament, in order to reverse that

act, and empower the king to bestow all the lands of Ireland on his

Catholic subjects. But in this scheme he met with opposition from the

moderate Catholics in the king’s council. Lord Bellasis went even so

far as to affirm with an oath, “that that fellow in Ireland was fool

and madman enough to ruin ten kingdoms.” The decay of trade, from

the desertion of the Protestants, was represented; the sinking of the

revenue; the alarm communicated to England: and by these considerations

the king’s resolutions were for some time suspended; though it was easy

to foresee, from the usual tenor of his conduct, which side would at

last preponderate.

But the king was not content with discovering in his own kingdoms the

imprudence of his conduct: he was resolved that all Europe should be

witness to it. He publicly sent the earl of Castelmaine ambassador

extraordinary to Rome, in order to express his obeisance to the pope,

and to make advances for reconciling his kingdoms, in form, to the

Catholic communion. Never man, who came on so important an errand, met

with so many neglects, and even affronts, as Castelmaine. The pontiff,

instead of being pleased with this forward step, concluded, that a

scheme conducted with so much indiscretion, could never possibly be

successful. And as he was engaged in a violent quarrel with the French

monarch, a quarrel which interested him more nearly than the conversion

of England, he bore little regard to James, whom he believed too closely

connected with his capital enemy.

The only proof of complaisance which James received from the pontiff,

was his sending a nuncio to England, in return for the embassy. By act

of parliament, any communication with the pope was made treason: yet so

little regard did the king pay to the laws, that he gave the nuncio a

public and solemn reception at Windsor. The duke of Somerset, one of

the bed-chamber, because he refused to assist at this ceremony, was

dismissed from his employment. The nuncio resided openly in London

during the rest of this reign. Four Catholic bishops were publicly

consecrated in the king’s chapel, and sent out, under the title

of vicars apostolical, to exercise the episcopal function in their

respective dioceses. Their pastoral letters, directed to the lay

Catholics of England, were printed and dispersed by the express

allowance and permission of the king. The regular clergy of that

communion appeared in court in the habits of their order; and some of

them were so indiscreet as to boast, that, in a little time, they hoped

to walk in procession through the capital.

While the king shocked in the most open manner all the principles and

prejudices of his Protestant subjects, he could not sometimes but be

sensible, that he stood in need of their assistance for the execution of

his designs. He had himself, by virtue of his prerogative, suspended

the penal laws, and dispensed with the test; but he would gladly have

obtained the sanction of parliament to these acts of power; and he knew

that, without this authority, his edicts alone would never afford a

durable security to the Catholics. He had employed, therefore, with the

members of parliament many private conferences, which were then called

“closetings;” and he used every expedient of reasons, menaces, and

promises to break their obstinacy in this particular. Finding all his

efforts fruitless, he had dissolved the parliament, and was determined

to call a new one, from which he expected more complaisance and

submission. By the practice of annulling the charters, the king was

become master of all the corporations, and could at pleasure change

every where the whole magistracy. The church party, therefore, by whom

the crown had been hitherto so remarkably supported, and to whom the

king visibly owed his safety from all the efforts of his enemies, was

deprived of authority; and the dissenters, those very enemies, were

first in London, and afterwards in every other corporation, substituted

in their place. Not content with this violent and dangerous innovation,

the king appointed certain regulators to examine the qualifications of

electors; and directions were given them to exclude all such as adhered

to the test and penal statutes.[*]

* The elections in some places, particularly in York, were

transferred from the people to the magistrates, who, by the

new charter, were all named by the crown. Sir John Reresby’s

Memoirs, p. 272. This was in reality nothing different from

the king’s naming the members. The same act of authority had

been employed in all the boroughs of Scotland.

Queries to this purpose were openly proposed in all places, in order

to try the sentiments of men, and enable the king to judge of the

proceedings of the future parliament. The power of the crown was at

this time so great, and the revenue managed by James’s frugality, so

considerable and independent, that, if he had embraced any national

party, he had been insured of success, and might have carried his

authority to what length he pleased. But the Catholics, to whom he

had entirely devoted himself, were scarcely the hundredth part of the

people. Even the Protestant nonconformists, whom he so much courted,

were little more than the twentieth; and, what was worse, reposed no

confidence in the unnatural alliance contracted with the Catholics, and

in the principles of toleration, which, contrary to their usual practice

in all ages, seemed at present to be adopted by that sect. The king,

therefore finding little hopes of success, delayed the summoning of

a parliament, and proceeded still in the exercise of his illegal and

arbitrary authority.

The whole power in Ireland had been committed to Catholics. In Scotland,

all the ministers whom the king chiefly trusted, were converts to

that religion. Every great office in England, civil and military, was

gradually transferred from the Protestants. Rochester and Clarendon,

the king’s brothers-in-law, though they had ever been faithful to his

interests, could not, by all their services, atone for their adherence

to the national religion; and had been dismissed from their employments.

The violent Jefferies himself, though he had sacrificed justice and

humanity to the court, yet, because he refused also to give up his

religion, was declining in favor and interest. Nothing now remained but

to open the door in the church and universities to the intrusion of the

Catholics. It was not long before the king made this rash effort; and

by constraining the prelacy and established church to seek protection

in the principles of liberty, he at last left himself entirely without

friends and adherents.

Father Francis, a Benedictine, was recommended by the king’s mandate to

the university of Cambridge for the degree of master of arts; and as it

was usual for the university to confer that degree on persons eminent

for learning, without regard to their religion; and as they had even

admitted lately the secretary to the ambassador of Morocco; the king on

that account thought himself the better entitled to compliance. But

the university considered, that there was a great difference between

a compliment bestowed on foreigners, and degrees which gave a title to

vote in all the elections and statutes cf the university, and which,

if conferred on the Catholics would infallibly in time render that sect

entirely superior. They therefore refused to obey the king’s mandate,

and were cited to appear before the court of ecclesiastical commission.

The vice-chancellor was suspended by that court; but as the university

chose a man of spirit to succeed him, the king thought proper for the

present to drop his pretensions.

The attempt upon the university of Oxford was prosecuted with more

inflexible obstinacy, and was attended with more important consequences.

This university had lately, in their famous decree, made a solemn

profession of passive obedience; and the court, probably, expected that

they would show their sincerity when their turn came to practise that

doctrine; which, though, if carried to the utmost extent it be contrary

both to reason and to nature, is apt to meet with the more effectual

opposition from the latter principle. The president of Magdalen College,

one of the richest foundations in Europe, dying about this time, a

mandate was sent in favor of Farmer, a new convert, but one who, besides

his being a Catholic, had not in other respects the qualifications

required by the statutes for enjoying that office. The fellows of the

college made submissive applications to the king for recalling his

mandate; but before they received an answer, the day came on which, by

their statutes, they were obliged to proceed to an election. They

chose Dr. Hough, a man of virtue, as well as of the firmness and vigor

requisite for maintaining his own rights and those of the university.

In order to punish the college for this contumacy, as it was called, an

inferior ecclesiastical commission was sent down, and the new president

and the fellows were cited before it. So little regard had been paid to

any consideration besides religion, that Farmer, on inquiry, was found

guilty of the lowest and most scandalous vices; insomuch that even the

ecclesiastical commissioners were ashamed to insist on his election. A

new mandate, therefore, was issued in favor of Parker, lately created

bishop of Oxford, a man of a prostitute character, but who, like Farmer,

atoned for all his vices by his avowed willingness to embrace the

Catholic religion. The college represented, that all presidents had ever

been appointed by election and there were few instances of the king’s

interposing by his recommendation in favor of any candidate: that,

having already made a regular election of a president, they could not

deprive him of his office, and, during his lifetime, substitute any

other in his place: that, even if there were a vacancy, Parker, by the

statutes of their founder, could not be chosen: that they had all of

them bound themselves by oath to observe these statutes, and never on

any account to accept of a dispensation and that the college had at all

times so much distinguished itself by its loyalty, that nothing but the

most invincible necessity could now oblige them to oppose his majesty’s

inclinations. All these reasons availed them nothing. The president and

all the fellows, except two who complied, were expelled the college; and

Parker was put in possession of the office. This act of violence, of

all those which were committed during the reign of James, is perhaps

the most illegal and arbitrary. When the dispensing power was the most

strenuously insisted on by court lawyers, it had still been allowed,

that the statutes which regard private property could not legally be

infringed by that prerogative: yet in this instance it appeared, that

even these were not now secure from invasion. The privileges of a

college are attacked: men are illegally dispossessed of their property,

for adhering to their duty, to their oaths, and to their religion: the

fountains of the church are attempted to be poisoned; nor would it

be long, it was concluded, ere all ecclesiastical, as well as civil

preferments, would be bestowed on such as, negligent of honor,

virtue, and sincerity, basely sacrificed their faith to the reigning

superstition. Such were the general sentiments; and as the universities

have an intimate connection with the ecclesiastical establishments, and

mightily interest all those who have there received their education,

this arbitrary proceeding begat a universal discontent against the

king’s administration.

The next measure of the court was an insult still more open on the

ecclesiastics, and rendered the breach between the king and that

powerful body fatal as well as incurable. It is strange that James, when

he felt, from the sentiments of his own heart, what a mighty influence

religious zeal had over him should yet be so infatuated as never once to

suspect, that it might possibly have a proportionable authority over

his subjects. Could he have profited by repeated experience, he had seen

instances enough of their strong aversion to that communion, which,

from a violent, imperious temper, he was determined, by every possible

expedient, to introduce into his kingdoms.

{1688.} The king published a second declaration of indulgence, almost

in the same terms with the former; and he subjoined an order, that,

immediately after divine service, it should be read by the clergy in all

the churches. As they were known universally to disapprove of the use

made of the suspending power, this clause, they thought, could be meant

only as an insult upon them; and they were sensible, that by their

compliance, they should expose themselves both to public contempt,

on account of their tame behavior, and to public hatred, by their

indirectly patronizing so obnoxious a prerogative.[*] They were

determined, therefore, almost universally, to preserve the regard of the

people; their only protection, while the laws were become of so

little validity, and while the court was so deeply engaged in opposite

interests. In order to encourage them in this resolution, six prelates,

namely, Lloyde bishop of St. Asaph, Ken of Bath and Wells, Turner

of Ely, Lake of Chichester, White of Peterborough, and Trelawney of

Bristol, met privately with the primate, and concerted the form of a

petition to the king. They there represent, in few words, that, though

possessed of the highest sense of loyalty, a virtue of which the church

of England had given such eminent testimonies; and though desirous of

affording ease in a legal way to all Protestant dissenters; yet, because

the declaration of indulgence was founded on a prerogative formerly

declared illegal by parliament, they could not, in prudence, honor, or

conscience, so far make themselves parties, as the distribution of it

all over the kingdom would be interpreted to amount to. They therefore

besought the king, that he would not insist upon their reading that

declaration.[**]

* When Charles dissolved his last parliament, he set forth a

declaration, giving his reasons for that measure, and this

declaration the clergy had been ordered to read to the

people after divine service. These orders were agreeable to

their party prejudices, and they willingly submitted to

them. The contrary was now the case.

** The words of the petition were: That the great averseness

found in themselves to their distributing and publishing in

all their churches your majesty’s late declaration for

liberty of conscience, proceeds neither from any want of

duty and obedience to your majesty, (our holy mother the

church of England, being both in her principles and her

constant practice unquestionably loyal, and having to her

great honor been more than once publicly acknowledged to be

so by your gracious majesty,) nor yet from any want of

tenderness to dissenters, in relation to whom we are willing

to come to such a temper as shall be thought fit, when the

matter shall be considered and settled in parliament and

convocation; but, among many other considerations, from this

especially, because that declaration is founded upon such a

dispensing power as hath been often declared illegal in

parliament, and particularly in the years 1662 and 1672, and

in the beginning of your majesty’s reign, and is a matter of

so great moment and consequence to the whole nation both in

church and state, that your petitioners cannot, in prudence,

honor, or conscience, so far make themselves parties to it

as a distribution of it all over the nation, and the solemn

publication of it once and again, even in God’s house, and

in the time of divine service, must amount to in common and

reasonable construction.

The king was incapable, not only of yielding to the greatest opposition,

but of allowing the slightest and most respectful contradiction to pass

uncensured. He immediately embraced a resolution (and his resolutions,

when once embraced, were inflexible) of punishing the bishops, for a

petition so popular in its matter, and so prudent and cautious in the

expression. As the petition was delivered him in private, he summoned

them before the council; and questioned them whether they would

acknowledge it. The bishops saw his intention, and seemed long desirous

to decline answering; but being pushed by the chancellor, they at

last avowed the petition. On their refusal to give bail, an order was

immediately drawn for their commitment to the Tower; and the crown

lawyers received directions to prosecute them for the seditious libel

which, it was pretended, they had composed and uttered.

The people were already aware of the danger to which the prelates were

exposed; and were raised to the highest pitch of anxiety and attention

with regard to the issue of this extraordinary affair. But when they

beheld these fathers of the church brought from court under the custody

of a guard, when they saw them embark in vessels on the river, and

conveyed towards the Tower, all their affection for liberty, all their

zeal for religion, blazed up at once; and they flew to behold this

affecting spectacle. The whole shore was covered with crowds of

prostrate spectators, who at once implored the blessing of those holy

pastors, and addressed their petitions towards heaven for protection

during this extreme danger to which their country and their religion

stood exposed. Even the soldiers, seized with the contagion of the same

spirit, flung themselves on their knees before the distressed prelates

and craved the benediction of those criminals whom they were appointed

to guard. Some persons ran into the water, that they might participate

more nearly in those blessings which the prelates were distributing

on all around them. The bishops themselves, during this triumphant

suffering, augmented the general favor, by the most lowly, submissive

deportment; and they still exhorted the people to fear God, honor the

king, and maintain their loyalty; expressions more animating than the

most inflammatory speeches. And no sooner had they entered the precincts

of the Tower than they hurried to chapel, in order to return thanks

for those afflictions which heaven, in defence of its holy cause, had

thought them worthy to endure.

Their passage, when conducted to their trial, was, if possible, attended

by greater crowds of anxious spectators. All men saw the dangerous

crisis to which affairs were reduced, and were sensible, that the king

could not have put the issue on a cause more unfavorable for himself

than that in which he had so imprudently engaged. Twenty-nine temporal

peers (for the other prelates kept aloof) attended the prisoners to

Westminster Hall; and such crowds of gentry followed the procession,

that scarcely was any room left for the populace to enter. The lawyers

for the bishops were, Sir Robert Sawyer, Sir Francis Pemberton,

Pollexfen, Treby, and Sommers. No cause, even during the prosecution

of the Popish plot, was ever heard with so much zeal and attention. The

popular torrent, which of itself ran fierce and strong, was now further

irritated by the opposition of government.

The council for the bishops pleaded, that the law allowed subjects,

if they thought themselves aggrieved in any particular, to apply by

petition to the king, provided they kept within certain bounds, which

the same law prescribed to them, and which, in the present petition, the

prelates had strictly observed: that an active obedience in cases

which were contrary to conscience, was never pretended to be due

to government; and law was allowed to be the great measure of the

compliance and submission of subjects: that when any person found

commands to be imposed upon him which he could not obey, it was more

respectful in him to offer his reasons for refusal, than to remain in

a sullen and refractory silence: that it was no breach of duty in

subjects, even though not called upon, to discover their sense of public

measures, in which every one had so intimate a concern: that the bishops

in the present case were called upon, and must either express their

approbation by compliance, or their disapprobation by petition: that

it could be no sedition to deny the prerogative of suspending the laws;

because there really was no such prerogative, nor ever could be, in a

legal and limited government: that even if this prerogative were real,

it had yet been frequently controverted before the whole nation, both in

Westminster Hall and in both houses of parliament; and no one had ever

dreamed of punishing the denial of it as criminal: that the prelates,

instead of making an appeal to the people, had applied in private to his

majesty, and had even delivered their petition so secretly, that, except

by the confession extorted from them before the council, it was found

impossible to prove them the authors: and that though the petition was

afterwards printed and dispersed, it was not so much as attempted to be

proved that they had the least knowledge of the publication.

These arguments were convincing in themselves, and were heard with a

favorable disposition by the audience. Even some of the judges, though

their seats were held during pleasure, declared themselves in favor

of the prisoners. The jury, however, from what cause is unknown, took

several hours to deliberate, and kept, during so long a time, the people

in the most anxious expectation. But when the wished-for verdict, not

guilty, was at last pronounced, the intelligence was echoed through the

hall, was conveyed to the crowds without, was carried into the city, and

was propagated with infinite joy throughout the kingdom.

Ever since Monmouth’s rebellion, the king had every summer encamped his

army on Hounslow Heath, that he might both improve their discipline, and

by so unusual a spectacle overawe the mutinous people. A Popish chapel

was openly erected in the midst of the camp; and great pains were taken,

though in vain, to bring over the soldiers to that communion. The few

converts whom the priests had made, were treated with such contempt and

ignominy, as deterred every one from following the example. Even the

Irish officers, whom the king introduced into the army, served rather,

from the aversion borne them, to weaken his interest among them. It

happened, that the very day on which the trial of the bishops was

finished, James had reviewed the troops, and had retired into the tent

of Lord Feversham, the general; when he was surprised to hear a great

uproar in the camp, attended with the most extravagant symptoms

of tumultuary joy. He suddenly inquired the cause, and was told by

Feversham, “It was nothing but the rejoicing of the soldiers for the

acquittal of the bishops.” “Do you call that nothing?” replied he: “but

so much the worse for them.”

The king was still determined to rush forward in the same course in

which he was already, by his precipitate career, so fatally advanced.

Though he knew that every order of men, except a handful of Catholics,

were enraged at his past measures, and still more terrified with the

future prospect; though he saw that the same discontents had reached

the army, his sole resource during the general disaffection; yet was he

incapable of changing his measures, or even of remitting his violence

in the prosecution of them. He struck out two of the judges, Powel and

Holloway, who had appeared to favor the bishops: he issued orders to

prosecute all those clergymen who had not read his declaration; that is,

the whole church of England, two hundred excepted: he sent a mandate to

the new fellows whom he had obtruded on Magdalen College, to elect for

president, in the room of Parker, lately deceased, one Gifford, a doctor

of the Sorbonne, and titular bishop of Madura: and he is even said

to have nominated the same person to the see of Oxford. So great an

infatuation is perhaps an object of compassion rather than of anger;

and is really surprising in a man who, in other respects, was not wholly

deficient in sense and accomplishments.

A few days before the acquittal of the bishops, an event happened which,

in the king’s sentiments, much overbalanced all the mortifications

received on that occasion. The queen was delivered of a son, who was

baptized by the name of James. This blessing was impatiently longed for,

not only by the king and queen, but by all the zealous Catholics both

abroad and at home. They saw, that the king was past middle age; and

that on his death the succession must devolve to the prince and princess

of Orange, two zealous Protestants, who would soon replace every thing

on ancient foundations. Vows, therefore, were offered at every shrine

for a male successor: pilgrimages were undertaken, particularly one to

Loretto, by the duchess of Modena; and success was chiefly attributed to

that pious journey. But in proportion as this event was agreeable to

the Catholics, it increased the disgust of the Protestants, by depriving

them of that pleasing though somewhat distant prospect, in which at

present they flattered themselves. Calumny even went so far as to

ascribe to the king the design of imposing on the world a supposititious

child, who might be educated in his principles, and after his death

support the Catholic religion in his dominions. The nation almost

universally believed him capable, from bigotry, of committing any

crime; as they had seen that, from like motives, he was guilty of every

imprudence: and the affections of nature, they thought, would be easily

sacrificed to the superior motive of propagating a Catholic and orthodox

faith. The present occasion was not the first when that calumny had been

invented. In the year 1682, the queen, then duchess of York, had been

pregnant; and rumors were spread that an imposture would at that time be

obtruded upon the nation: but happily, the infant proved a female, and

thereby spared the party all the trouble of supporting their improbable

fiction.[*]

* This story is taken notice of in a weekly paper, the

Observator, published at that very time, 23d of August,

1682. Party zeal is capable of swallowing the most

incredible story; but it is surely singular, that the same

calumny, when once baffled, should yet be renewed with such

success.