Attempts were not wanting on the part of some of the Bishops to
maintain ecclesiastical discipline. There are papers amongst the
_Tanner MSS._ which indicate what went on amidst the throes of the
Revolution, in the diocese of Norwich, before the ejectment of Bishop
Lloyd. John Gibbs, Rector of Gissing, had been a convert to the Church
of Rome; but on the 14th of November, nine days after the landing of
the Prince of Orange, when Protestant East Anglicans would be exulting
at the advent of the Deliverer, this recusant is referred to as wishing
to be reconciled with the Church of his fathers; and a report is given
of the sermon which he preached on the occasion.[405] A little while
afterwards an instance occurs of clerical immorality, and of that kind
of trouble which has often disturbed episcopal peace: a Norwich rector
was accused of “lewdness,” amounting to a capital crime.
The case was undoubted. It came to the Bishop’s knowledge. To conceal
the fact would have been to connive at the sin, to make it known to
endanger the culprit’s life. Indeed, to conceal it was no longer
possible, and to stifle the charge was felt to be a scandal to
religion. Under these circumstances, Lloyd, Bishop of Norwich, asked
the Archbishop whether, by a judicial monition, he might not require
the offender to abstain from clerical functions till he could purge
himself from the terrible accusation brought against him.
The Canon law, he said, did not deal with the offence in question, and
he felt himself in much difficulty as to the course of proceeding. As
capital punishment might follow conviction, the Bishop feared lest it
should prove a _causa sanguinis_--an affair with which he wished
to have nothing to do. The common tactics of defence were adopted by
the accused. He appealed to the Archdeacon, with the view of gaining
time, and by such means he cunningly slipped entirely out of the hands
of the Consistory at Norwich; but the Bishop comforted himself by
hoping that the criminal would meet with justice at Doctors’ Commons.
On the 30th of August, 1689, when Lloyd had been himself suspended, he
wrote to Sancroft, saying, “It is too late for me now to meddle further
in the matter.”[406]
After the Revolution, we meet with a case in which moral discipline
was exercised by Patrick, Bishop of Ely. The Incumbent of Great
Eversden had, by intemperance, drowned his reason and scandalized
his profession. Grieved at what he heard, the Bishop required him to
preach two penitential sermons, one in each of the churches where
he officiated, from the words, “He that covereth his sins shall not
prosper; but whoso confesseth and forsaketh them shall have mercy.” He
did so, and concluded with the words: “You see, beloved, what a black
indictment I have here drawn up against myself, wherein I have not been
favourable or partial to my fatal miscarriages, but have dissected and
ripped up my many enormous crimes, and exposed them to public view.
I beseech you not to be too censorious and uncharitable, since I have
passed so severe a censure upon myself.”[407]
[Sidenote: WORSHIP.]
A passing remark is required touching the manner of worship. Nothing
like what is now called Ritualism had then any existence. Things
continued much as they were before. No coloured vestments were worn
by Anglicans either within or without the Establishment, nor were
there any attempts at extraordinary ornamentation of either altars
or churches. Æsthetic culture, apart from distinctive ecclesiastical
opinions, may powerfully affect psalmody, and other accompaniments of
devotion, as well as the structure and adornment of the House of God;
but the reign of William was not at all an age in which such culture
prevailed. Some religious people have a keen sense of propriety as to
outward observances; others have none. It matters not to them, though
the adoration of the High and Lofty One be marked by slovenliness of
arrangement and irreverence of behaviour. There were many persons of
this kind amongst Clergy and laity during the last ten, as there had
been during the previous fifty years of the seventeenth century.
The use of the surplice in the pulpit, now a common practice with
almost all sections in the Established Church, was within our own
recollection very rare, and when first prominently introduced, produced
excitement and confusion. It seems to have been a novelty in the reign
of William III. “Yesterday,” says the writer of a letter in 1696, “I
saw in Low Leighton Church, that which to my remembrance I never did
see in a church in England but once, and that is a minister preach in a
surplice for Mr. Harrison (whereas other ministers on Fast-days do not
so much as wear any surplice), he, by way of supererogation, preached
in his. The sight did stir up in me more of pity than anger to see the
folly of the man; but if he preach in a fool’s coat we will go and hear
him.”[408]
Low Leighton (or Leyton), it will be remembered, was the parish in
which John Strype fulfilled his ministry, and therefore it was in the
pulpit of that distinguished ecclesiologist, that the writer of the
extract beheld the phenomenon which startled him out of his propriety;
if the surplice was worn by the Incumbent, or with his sanction, the
circumstance would indicate that he regarded the usage as canonical,
however it might have fallen into abeyance.
Amongst the Lambeth archives is a very long letter by Edmund Bowerman,
Vicar of Codrington, who gives a curious account of his parish, of
the extreme ignorance and irreligion of the people, and of their
desecration of the church. They played cards on the communion-table,
and when they met to choose churchwardens, sat with their hats on,
smoking and drinking--the clerk gravely saying, with a pipe in his
mouth, that such had been the practice for the last sixty years. Not
ten persons in the place had ever received the Sacrament; one used to
take it by himself in brown bread and small beer.[409]
An important change took place in the psalmody of the Church of
England. The archaic version of the Psalms, by Sternhold and Hopkins,
kept possession in cathedral and parish congregations until the middle
of the reign of William III. Attempts had been made at improving the
versification. _A Century of Select Psalms_, in verse, for the
use of the Charterhouse, by Dr. Patrick, appeared in 1679. Richard
Goodridge followed him by a similar effort in 1682. Dr. Simon Ford,
not to mention others, attempted something of the same kind in 1688.
But a more successful enterprise was accomplished by Nicholas Brady
and Nahum Tate, who, in 1695, published a tentative _Essay_,
and in 1696 a _Complete New Version_, differing from such as
they themselves had previously prepared. This version, afterwards so
popular, did not escape criticism; but was most determinately opposed
by Dr. Beveridge, who preferred the old rhymes of the Reformation to
any modern rendering of the Songs of David. His course of argument, if
it had any force, would be fatal to any attempt at improving scripture
translations of all kinds.[410]
[Sidenote: CHARACTER OF THE CLERGY.]
The character of the Clergy at that time has been drawn by different
hands. Samuel Wesley, in the _Athenian Oracle_, said, that out of
fifty or threescore parishes with which he was acquainted, he could not
think of above three or four clergymen who disgraced their office.
The Nonjurors represented their brethren in the Establishment as
newsmongers and busy-bodies, guilty of non-residence, faulty in their
morals, and negligent of their duties. Some were often seen frequenting
ale-houses and taverns, where they behaved disorderly. The communion
in the London parish churches, before largely attended, was, according
to the same authority, unfrequented; and in cathedral churches things
were worse, so that the alms collected did little more than pay for the
bread and wine.[411]
Nonjurors looked through a prejudiced medium at those who took the
oaths. They regarded most of them as indifferent to a matter of
immense importance, and not a few as deliberately dishonest, swearing
to that which they did not believe. The amount of false swearing at
that period must have been prodigious; and the fact could not fail to
produce mischievous results--it demoralized such as indulged in it, and
impressed people with an idea of the falseness of their instructors.
Men looking at the subject from another point of the compass, also came
to an unfavourable conclusion. Whiston declared how well he remembered
that by far the greater part of University members and clergymen took
the oaths with a doubtful, if not an accusing, conscience. Considering
the doctrines of passive obedience and non-resistance in which they had
been educated, he thought it could not be otherwise; and he scarcely
knew who were the worst, some who imposed or some who submitted to the
new law of allegiance.[412]
As the Nonjurors judged of ministers through the medium of the oath
question, so Whiston, who rejected the Athanasian Creed, judged of
ministers through the medium of that formulary. No doubt he was
prejudiced, and his conclusions were exaggerated; but it is hard
to understand how men of latitudinarian views could, with thorough
honesty, repeat an intensely orthodox formulary imbued with an
intensely exclusive spirit. What Whiston says of a rather later
period, may be applied here. Conversing with Lord Chief Justice King,
about signing articles not believed, in order to secure preferment,
he heard his Lordship observe, “We must not lose our usefulness for
scruples.” “In your Courts do they allow of such prevarication?” asked
the Presbyter. “Certainly not,” rejoined the lawyer. “Suppose then,”
returned Whiston, “God Almighty should be as just in the next world as
my Lord Chief Justice is in this, where are we then?”[413] Whiston’s
estimate of some of the Clergy is corroborated by Burnet, who mourns
over the inconsistency of men described as practically contradicting
the oaths they had taken and the prayers they preferred.[414]
[Sidenote: CHARACTER OF THE CLERGY.]
De Foe acknowledged that there were in England a great many religious
persons, both among the gentry and Clergy; but he remarked upon
the inconsistency of many in both classes. “The parson preaches a
thundering sermon against drunkenness, and the justice of peace sets
my poor neighbour in the stocks; and I am like to be much the better
for either, when I know, perhaps, that this same parson and this same
justice were both drunk together but the night before. A vicious parson
that preaches well, but lives ill, may be likened to an unskilful
horseman, who opens a gate on the wrong side, and lets other folks
through, but shuts himself out.”[415] In judging of the Clergy of those
days, we must take into account indirect evidence. The Convocation
controversy, degenerating into a contemptible feud between class and
class, or into a despicable squabble between clergyman and clergyman,
proved the extensive existence of prejudice, obstinacy, and resentment,
and must have drawn off the minds of many from the discharge of their
proper duties. Neither was the method of conducting controversy on more
important points--the doctrine of the Trinity, for example--at all
calculated to preserve ministers of religion from injurious habits;
for the temper shown in books and tracts on this subject is most
irreverent, most conceited, most uncharitable, most unchristian.
It should also be noticed, that after religious freedom to some extent
had been legalized by the Toleration Act, a clerical reaction violently
set in. Low Churchmen had been the principal advocates for granting
liberty of worship to their Nonconforming brethren; but beyond their
circle were some who, during appearances of Popery under James II., had
looked with sympathy upon fellow Protestants outside their own pale,
and had afterwards hailed them with a kindly welcome to the enjoyment
of their rights. When the no-Popery tempest subsided, and when
political fears, raised by Royal despotism, passed away, some of these
persons relapsed into their previous state, and together with those who
had been bigoted throughout, looked at Nonconformists with bitterness
and hatred.[416] A wide current of intolerant feeling returned, of
which the result became visible enough after the accession of Queen
Anne.
[Sidenote: CONDITION OF THE CLERGY.]
Turning from the character of the Clergy to notice their circumstances,
we meet with an interesting picture of domestic life in the case of
the father of the Wesleys. He was a rector upon £50 a year at South
Ormsby, a little village in Lincolnshire, skirting the parks and
woodlands of a goodly mansion. We find the same clergyman shortly
afterwards established in the same county at the Rectory of Epworth,
described, in a survey of the period, as consisting of “five bays built
all of timber and plaister, and covered with straw thatch, the whole
building being contrived into three stories, and disposed into seven
chief rooms, namely--a kitchen, a hall, a parlour, a buttery, and three
large upper rooms, besides some others of common use, and also a
little garden impaled between the stone wall and the south.”[417] This
minute description brings before us a humble, but pleasant parsonage
of the end of the seventeenth century; and it is added that to the
dwelling stood attached one barn of six bays, likewise built of clay
and thatch; also one dovecote of timber and plaister, and one hempkiln.
The glebe was stocked. Cows fed in the meadows, and pigs in the stye.
A nag and two fillies occupied the stable, and flax and barley waved
in the fields. The parishioners were, according to Wesley’s daughter,
“unpolished wights,” “dull as asses,” and with heads “impervious
as stones.” The clerical dress, the rustic manner, and the lowly
employments of the Rector, are portrayed by another member of the
gifted family:
“To rub his cassock’s draggled tail,
Or reach his hat from off the nail,
Or seek the key to draw the ale,
When damsel haps to steal it;
To burn his pipe, or mend his clothes,
Or nicely darn his russet hose,
For comfort of his aged toes,
So fine they cannot feel it.”
The outlay upon taking the new living amounted to £50--just one-fourth
of the annual income of the living. It was a practice for parish
officers to compel people to lighten parochial burdens by taking, as
apprentices, the children of paupers; and one of these unfortunates
was actually palmed on the Epworth Incumbent, who said he supposed he
must teach the boy “to beat rhyme.” These items are worth mentioning
as illustrations of the times, and in this case they are interesting
in connection with the early life of the founder of Methodism and the
master of English psalmody. The two boys played in the rectory garden;
and from their parents derived some of the power and peculiarity of
their mature life. The parents, it is curious to remember, differed on
the Jacobite question; and a story is told to the effect that Wesley,
observing that his wife did not pray for William, and hearing her
declare she could regard him only as Prince of Orange, told her, in
sorrowing words, “If that be the case, you and I must part; for if we
have two Kings, we must have two beds.” It is added that he took horse
and rode to London; and being “Convocation man” for the diocese of
Lincoln, resided in the Metropolis a whole year without corresponding
with his family. The anecdote perhaps has in it much of exaggeration,
and it has been questioned of late more than once, yet one would think
there must be some truth in it, since it rests on the authority of John
Wesley.[418] At that time a mean-looking parsonage was the rule, not
the exception: and even in the parish of Kensington, though honoured by
the presence of Royalty, the vicarage is described as having been of
a very humble character, with lattice windows. A large proportion of
the livings were very poor, some as low as £14 or £15 per annum.[419]
Wesley’s first income was £30 a year from a curacy in London; and if
so small a sum was paid in the Metropolis, what must it have been in
some of the provinces! The pitiful condition of clergymen under Charles
II. could have undergone no great improvement under William III. Of
course in places of importance, if clerical incomes happened to reach
a large amount, a handsome rectory or vicarage might be found, of
which a few, built in Sir Christopher Wren’s time, with more regard
to convenience than taste, still remain. Of nearly the same date,
deaneries and prebendal houses still linger amongst us--and long may
they linger--snugly ensconced amidst pleasant gardens, in those most
pleasant of all English precincts--our cathedral closes--so green and
quiet, solemn and quaint.
[Sidenote: CONDITION OF THE CLERGY.]
As in the reign of Charles II., so in the reign of William III., the
office of chaplain in the families of the great was not enviable.
The salary was small, the position undignified, the treatment often
disrespectful, and the means of usefulness limited and questionable. In
the _Athenian Oracle_, the chaplain of a family not very regular
or religious--forced to see Misses drinking and gaming, and afraid
to open his mouth on the subject--complains of the miseries of his
situation; he inquires what he ought to do, so as neither to betray
religion nor give offence. He could not believe that to say grace and
read prayers, when his patron was at leisure, constituted his duty,
yet he found his brethren thought they had done enough when they had
done no more than that.[420] Thomas Wilson, afterwards Bishop of
Sodor and Man, certainly took a different view, for when chaplain and
tutor to Lord Derby, he, with commendable faithfulness, rebuked his
pupil’s extravagance, so as to restore his reputation and relieve his
creditors. Once, as the young nobleman was about to sign his name, he
felt some melted sealing-wax dropped on his finger by this eccentric
mentor, who remarked, that the pain ought to impress him with a
resolution never to sign what he had never examined.[421]
Clerical costume is a trifle worth only a passing sentence, and it may
be observed that it remained the same after the Revolution as before.
But Archbishop Tillotson introduced a novelty. He is the first Prelate
represented in a wig. The wig is of moderate dimensions, and not much
unlike a head of natural hair. It is curious to find him remarking
upon this innovation in one of his sermons. “I can remember, since the
wearing the hair below the ears was looked upon as a sin of the first
magnitude; and when ministers generally, whatever their text was, did
either find or make occasion to reprove the great sin of long hair;
and if they saw anyone in the congregation guilty in that kind, they
would point him out particularly, and _let fly at him_ with great
zeal.”[422]
Partly as the result of causes at work ever since the Restoration--such
as the poverty, the imperfect education, and the unexemplary character
of many incumbents and curates--the Clergy, as a class, were in low
esteem. What has been related of the profession in the reign of Charles
II. produced effects which lasted long, and the conduct of a number of
Constitutionalists, as well as of Jacobites, contributed to deepen the
unpopularity of the order. Good men, lamenting the evils of the age,
traced to them this state of feeling, and Robert Nelson speaks of the
great contempt of the Clergy, than which he thought nothing could be a
greater evidence of the decayed state of religion.[423]
[Sidenote: STATE OF SOCIETY.]
Whatever may be the relation between social corruption and clerical
unpopularity, it is certain the two things co-existed. Nelson deplored
a decay of the spirit and life of devotion;[424] Thoresby declared that
God seemed angry with the nation, as well He might, and so hid counsel
from men, and left them to take such courses as would be neither for
their own nor the public good;[425] and Burnet relates, that profane
wits were delighted at the circulation of books against the Trinity;
that it became a common thing to treat mysteries in religion as
priestly contrivances; and that, under cover of popular expressions,
the enemies of religion vented their impieties.[426] Patrick lamented
the prevalent coldness and carelessness in religion, “scarce an handful
of people appearing in many churches at Divine Service, when the
playhouses were crowded every day with numerous spectators;”[427] and
John Norris referred to the decay of Christian piety and the universal
corruption of manners. Christ seemed to him, asleep in the sacred
vessel, while the tempest raged, and the waves almost overwhelmed the
bark. Students of prophecy, regarding the state of Christianity as
_anti-christianized_, anticipated the outpouring of the vials of
wrath, the breaking-up of Christendom, and the replacement of God’s
chosen people, the Jews, on the ruins of the Gentile Church.[428]
Profane swearing so far prevailed, that it is said in many circles
a man’s discourse was hardly agreeable without it;[429] and it is
remarkable that the instances given of John Howe’s courtesy, and the
wisdom with which he administered reproof, relates to the frequent
utterance of oaths. On one occasion, a gentleman addicted to this
practice expatiated at great length on the merits of Charles I. Howe
remarked that in his enumeration of the excellencies of the unfortunate
Sovereign, he had omitted one--that he was never known to utter an oath
in common discourse. On another occasion, he heard two gentlemen in
the street damning each other. The Divine, taking off his hat with a
polite bow, exclaimed, “I pray God save you both!” Meeting a nobleman
in the park, who, in speaking of the Occasional Conformity Bill,
burst into a rage and said, “Damn the wretches! for they are mad, and
will bring us all into confusion!” Howe replied, “My Lord, it is a
great satisfaction to us, who in all affairs of this nature desire to
look upwards, that there is a God who governs the world, to whom we
can leave the issues and events of things; and we are satisfied, and
may thereupon be easy, that He will not fail in due time of making a
suitable retribution to all, according to their present carriage. And
this great Ruler of the world, my Lord, has among other things also
declared, He will make a difference between him that sweareth and him
that feareth an oath.” “Sir, I thank you for your freedom,” was the
reply; “I understand your meaning: I shall endeavour to make a good
use of it.” “My Lord,” added Howe, “I have a great deal more reason
to thank your Lordship for saving me the most difficult part of a
discourse, which is the application.”[430]
Intemperance, increasing from the time of the Restoration, continued
to extend its curses towards the close of the eighteenth century; old
public-houses attracted more customers than ever, and many new ones
were opened, the money spent in this way by the lower classes reaching
an incredible amount.[431] Sober people lamented that their neighbours
were, with temperance, losing also that kindliness of temper which had
been prevalent amongst Englishmen.
[Sidenote: SUPERSTITION.]
The shock of an earthquake in September, 1692, alarmed the nation, and
made “those who studied apocalyptical matters imagine that the end of
the world drew near.” Burnet tells us it brought people “to more of
an outward face of virtue and sobriety;” but, in his apprehension,
they “became deeply corrupted in principle; a disbelief of revealed
religion, and a profane mocking at the Christian faith and the
mysteries of it, became avowed and scandalous.” Orders were given to
execute the laws against drunkenness, swearing, and the profanation of
the Lord’s-day; and, consequently, loud complaints arose of Puritanical
regulations, savouring of John Knox’s doctrine and discipline. Blame
for this was laid on the Bishop of Salisbury’s shoulders; and to make
the whole thing appear ridiculous, a noble commentator on the right
reverend historian, relates that hackney-coaches were not allowed to
be used on the Sabbath, and constables were directed to take away
pies and puddings from anybody who might be carrying them through the
streets.[432]
Popular opinion in reference to supernatural agencies requires some
notice, and presents signs of both mental stagnation and mental
progress. Many were in a state of superstition as immovable as that
of their fathers, believing in the reality, and smitten with the
terrors, of diabolical possession and infernal witchcraft. Even towards
the end of William’s reign, the diocese of Worcester was infected
with this kind of faith; and the Bishop, Dr. Lloyd--who succeeded
Stillingfleet--urged his Clergy to preach against errors respecting
Satanic agency, indicating to them his own views on the subject. He did
not doubt the extraordinary power of the Devil over heathen nations in
ancient and modern times; but he thought the Gospel had diminished
his power; that those who were in the covenant of grace could not be
injured by him, either in their persons, their possessions, or their
children; nevertheless he admitted that a man, by profligacy, might
yield himself to the great enemy, but could not receive from him
supernatural help to hurt anybody else.[433]
Lancashire continued the home of such beliefs, and in the middle of
King William’s reign, a place in that county called Surrey became
powerfully agitated by the case of a lad, who stood upon his head,
danced upon his knees, scrambled about on all fours, barked like a
dog, talked shreds of Latin, ran into the water, and told things at
a distance--all, it was said, the result of selling his soul to the
Devil, in hopes of thereby becoming a first-rate dancer. The neighbours
treated it as a real possession, and so did certain Presbyterian
ministers, who appointed days of fasting and prayer on the youth’s
behalf, and continued them weekly for a twelvemonth. Folks from the
country flocked in to see and hear the marvels going on, and made
themselves merry at the expense of the fruitless intercessors; they,
in their turn, laid their want of success at the door of the boy’s
family, saying the witches were in league with Satan, and therefore
supplication could not avail. The supposed demoniac named three Popish
priests as likely to cure him--a circumstance which led the discomfited
Presbyterians to say that the Devil had more mind to let the Popish
priests have “the credit of casting him out, because his ends would be
better served by Popery than by them.”
The Episcopal Clergy in the neighbourhood stood aloof from this
stupid credulity. That the boy had been given to tricks from his
early days was shown by witnesses; and collusions with his sister in
pretended intercourse with the spirit-world were also proved. Foolish
and wretched creatures now began to trade upon what had been a genuine
belief, and their conduct, whilst it showed that sincerity was parting
company with superstition, helped to undermine faith in all such things.
[Sidenote: SUPERSTITION.]
In London, similar but still more disgusting exhibitions were made by
people pretending to be possessed; and in one case a miserable woman,
through an accusation for witchcraft, had her hair torn off her head,
and after being kicked and trampled on, was thrown into a horse-pond.
A new result followed: instead of the supposed witch being punished,
the pretended victim was. All sorts of pretences were shown up, and
pretenders suffered the punishment they deserved, whilst poor old
crones, bent double with age, escaped the river, the gallows, and the
stake. Between 1640 and 1680, many unhappy creatures were punished
for witchcraft. Between 1680 and 1691, three were hanged at Exeter,
the last instance of capital punishment inflicted in England for this
offence; three were imprisoned in Somersetshire; and several in other
counties were ducked in horse-ponds.
An accused widow, really insane, died in Beccles Gaol; another,
represented as having black and white imps, which turned out to
be a white lock of wool in a basket, throwing a deep shadow, was
acquitted. Afterwards, acquittals became common; indeed, I find no
more convictions in England during the reign of William III.; on the
other hand, I notice cases of people put in the pillory for pretending
to be possessed.[434] Very much of this change must be ascribed to
the course pursued by Lord Chief Justice Holt. The wise and humane
Sir Matthew Hale had retained through life a belief in the black act.
His wisdom and humanity did not prove sufficient to penetrate to the
delusion which from boyhood lay all around him; but Sir John Holt came
into the world at a later period, and when he reached manhood, old
prejudices had less power, the atmosphere of superstition was less
dense; his shrewdness led him to see the falsehood of the theory, and
to him belongs the honour of having swept the dust and dirt of the
whole business clean out of English courts for ever.
The merit of Sir John Holt is all the greater in that a belief in
bewitchment kept ground in many religious minds; and it was still
common in other lands to punish people accused of the offence. One of
the last books Baxter wrote contained notices of diabolical agencies,
which he pressed upon atheists, sadducees, and infidels, with a view
to their conversion. Many of the stories were communicated by such men
as the Duke of Lauderdale, Lord Broghill, Dr. Daniel Williams, and the
Rev. Thomas Evelyn, of Dublin, the last two being by no means persons
of a superstitious turn. Making allowance for incorrect information,
clever imposture, and the operation of natural causes, we find
mentioned some things which must be referred to the operation of occult
influences, never yet explained. The idea that there are no mysteries,
evil as well as good, in the universe, is quite as much a prejudice, as
the idea current in the days of Baxter; and the words which Shakespeare
puts into the lips of Hamlet are profoundly wise--
“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in _our_[435] philosophy.”
Yet to make use of such stories as Baxter tells for religious purposes
is vain. “If they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will they
be persuaded, though one rose from the dead.” His book no doubt proved
to be labour lost, but he had plenty of people still to keep him in
countenance. Samuel Wesley wrote in defence of the doctrine,[436] and
in Scotland witch finding went on with vigour. In 1697 no less than
twenty-eight people were accused, and seven of them were executed.[437]
Nineteen were hanged within sixteen months (1692–3) in New England;
eight more were condemned; one hundred and fifty were imprisoned; above
two hundred were accused, of whom many fled the country to save their
lives.[438]
[Sidenote: SUPERSTITION.]
One piece of superstition maintained by English Sovereigns received a
vigorous check, but not a death-blow. I have described the ceremony of
touching for the “king’s evil,” so ostentatiously revived by Charles
II. His brother perpetuated the practice. The pecuniary benefit of
submitting to the operation, no doubt, made it very popular, since
it cost £10,000 a year for silver coins to be hung round the necks
of patients. When, at the close of Lent, crowds besieged his doors,
William exclaimed, “It is a silly superstition; give the poor
creatures some money, and send them away.” Once only could he be
prevailed upon to touch a suppliant, when he added, “God give you
better health, and more sense.” There were not wanting some to reproach
the King as cruel and impious, for refusing to exercise a Divine gift;
but the Jacobites turned his conduct to account by saying, he did not
dare to pretend to a power which only belonged to the Lord’s anointed.