most servile tools, and a member of the High Commission, took care to he there, to inform the king of what passed; but during his stay nothing but a disposition to compliance appeared to prevail, and he hurried away to Whitehall with the news. No sooner, however, was he gone, than letters were secretly dispatched, summoning the bishops of the province of Canterbury; and another meeting took place on the 18th, or two days prior to the Sunday fixed for the further reading of the declaration. The bishops concluded not to read it, and six of them waited on the king with the written resolution. James was confounded, having assumed himself they meant to comply. He used the most menacing language, and declared that they had set up the standard of rebellion; and ordered them from his presence to go at once and see that he was obeyed. To prevent the publication of the resolution, he detained it; but that very evening it was printed and hawked through the streets, where it was received with acclamations by the people. Any but a mad bigot, seeing the feelings of the public, would have instantly revoked the declaration; but James was not that man. Sunday arrived, and, out of all the hundred churches, the declaration was only read in four, and with the effect of instantly clearing them, amid murmurs of indignation. Still it was not too late to recall the order in council; and even James himself, with all his folly and infatuation, was now staggered. It was strongly recommended in the council to abandon the declaration; but James listened to his evil genius, the brutal Jeffreys, and determined to bring the seven signing bishops to trial before the court of King's Bench, on a charge of seditious libel. The fatal counsel was adopted, and they were summoned to appear before the privy council on the 8th of June.
In the interval the bishops and clergy in all parts of England, with few exceptions, showed the same resolute spirit. The bishops of Gloucester, Norwich, Salisbury, Winchester, Exeter, and London, signed copies of the same petition. The bishop of Carlisle regretted that, not belonging to the province of Canterbury, he could not do the same. The bishop of Worcester refused to distribute the declaration amongst his clergy; and the same spirit showed itself amongst the parochial clergy, who almost to a man refused to read it.
On the evening of the day appointed, the seven prelates, namely, Sancroft, the archbishop of Canterbury, Lloyd of St. Asaph, Ken of Bath and Wells, Turner of Ely, Lake of Chichester, White of Peterborough, and Trelawney of Bristol, attended the privy council. Jeffreys took up the petition, and, showing it to Sancroft, asked him if that was not the paper which he had written, and the six bishops present had signed. Sancroft and his colleagues had been well instructed by the ablest lawyers in England of the course they should pursue, and the dangers to be avoided. The primate, therefore, instead of acknowledging the paper, turned to the king and said—" Sir, I am called hither as a criminal, which I never was before; and, since I have that happiness, I trust your majesty will not be offended if I decline answering questions which may tend to incriminate me." "This is mere chicanery," said James. "I hope you will not disown your own handwriting." Lloyd of St. Asaph said that it was agreed by all divines that no man in their situation was obliged to answer any such question; but, as James still pressed for an answer, Sancroft observed that, though he were not bound to accuse himself, yet, if the king commanded it, he would answer, taking it for granted that his majesty would not take advantage to bring his admission there in evidence against him. James said he would not command him; but Jeffreys told them to withdraw for awhile, and when they were called back, James commanded the primate, and he acknowledged the writing. They were then again sent out, and, on coming back, were told by Jeffreys that they would be proceeded against, not before the High Commission, but, "with all fairness," before the King's Bench.
They were then called upon to enter into recognizances, but they refused, on the plea that they were peers of parliament, and that no peer of parliament could be required to enter into recognizances in ease of libel. This greatly disconcerted James, for it compelled him to send them to prison, and he justly feared the effect of it on the public. But there was no alternative; a warrant was signed for their commitment to the Tower, and they were sent thither in a barge.
The scene which immediately took place showed that James had at length a glimmering of the danger which he had raised. The whole river was crowded with wherries full of people, who crowded round the bishops to entreat their blessings, many rushing breast-high into the water to come near enough. James, in terror, ordered the garrison and guards of the Tower to be doubled; but the same spirit animated the soldiers, who knelt at the approach of the prelates, and also solicited their blessing. Presently the soldiers were found carousing to the health of their prisoners; and when Sir Edward Hales, who had been made lieutenant of the Tower for his going over to popery, desired the officers to put a stop to it, they returned and told him that it was impossible, for the soldiers would drink nobody's health but the bishops'. Every day the gates of the Tower were besieged by the equipages of the chief nobility. The very nonconformists came in bodies to condole with their old persecutors; and Tower Hill was one constant throng of people manifesting their sympathy.
Such were the miracles of resistance and all but revolt which the folly and insane bigotry of James had created out of the most obsequious aristocracy and hierarchy, which had done anything so long as he let alone the national church. Great praise has been heaped on the seven bishops; for their conduct on this occasion. It has been represented by the tory writers as if they, indeed, created and effected this mighty revolution. The revolution was the work of the Stuarts themselves, brought to a crisis by this most obstinate and tyrannic creature of the whole breed. It was not the effort of the bishops, or any respect personally for them; it was that James had made them and the existence of their church one and the same thing. The act of the bishops was but the natural instinct of self-preservation—an act in which they were fully supported by the aristocracy. That same aristocracy which had consented to assist in treading down the liberties of Scotland, Ireland, and the people of England, had now refused to go any further, because there was but one step betwixt them and the gulf of popery and a popish despotism, in which no man's person or property would be
