ine
was that, in ecclesiastical matters of grave moment, nothing could be
well done without the sanction of the Bishop. And could it be believed
that any who held this doctrine would compose a service, print it,
circulate it, and actually use it in public worship, without the
approbation of Sancroft, whom the whole party revered, not only as the
true Primate of all England, but also as a Saint and a Confessor? It
was known that the Prelates who had refused the oaths had lately held
several consultations at Lambeth. The subject of those consultations, it
was now said, might easily be guessed. The holy fathers had been engaged
in framing prayers for the destruction of the Protestant colony in
Ireland, for the defeat of the English fleet in the Channel, and for the
speedy arrival of a French army in Kent. The extreme section of the Whig
party pressed this accusation with vindictive eagerness. This then, said
those implacable politicians, was the fruit of King William's merciful
policy. Never had he committed a greater error than when he had
conceived the hope that the hearts of the clergy were to be won by
clemency and moderation. He had not chosen to give credit to men who had
learned by a long and bitter experience that no kindness will tame the
sullen ferocity of a priesthood. He had stroked and pampered when he
should have tried the effect of chains and hunger. He had hazarded the
good will of his best friends by protecting his worst enemies. Those
Bishops who had publicly refused to acknowledge him as their Sovereign,
and who, by that refusal, had forfeited their dignities and revenues,
still continued to live unmolested in palaces which ought to be occupied
by better men: and for this indulgence, an indulgence unexampled in the
history of revolutions, what return had been made to him? Even this,
that the men whom he had, with so much tenderness, screened from just
punishment, had the insolence to describe him in their prayers as a
persecutor defiled with the blood of the righteous; they asked for grace
to endure with fortitude his sanguinary tyranny; they cried to heaven
for a foreign fleet and army to deliver them from his yoke; nay, they
hinted at a wish so odious that even they had not the front to speak
it plainly. One writer, in a pamphlet which produced a great sensation,
expressed his wonder that the people had not, when Tourville was riding
victorious in the Channel, bewitted the nonjuring Prelates. Excited as