nce of feelings like these would act with
the cold impartiality of a court of justice. Before they came to any
decision on the legal question which Titus had brought before them,
they picked a succession of quarrels with him. He had published a paper
magnifying his merits and his sufferings. The Lords found out some
pretence for calling this publication a breach of privilege, and sent
him to the Marshalsea. He petitioned to be released; but an objection
was raised to his petition. He had described himself as a Doctor of
Divinity; and their lordships refused to acknowledge him as such. He was
brought to their bar, and asked where he had graduated. He answered, "At
the university of Salamanca." This was no new instance of his mendacity
and effrontery. His Salamanca degree had been, during many years, a
favourite theme of all the Tory satirists from Dryden downwards; and
even on the Continent the Salamanca Doctor was a nickname in ordinary
use, [394] The Lords, in their hatred of Oates, so far forgot their own
dignity as to treat this ridiculous matter seriously. They ordered him
to efface from his petition the words, "Doctor of Divinity." He replied
that he could not in conscience do it; and he was accordingly sent back
to gaol, [395]

These preliminary proceedings indicated not obscurely what the fate of
the writ of error would be. The counsel for Oates had been heard. No
counsel appeared against him. The judges were required to give their
opinions. Nine of them were in attendance; and among the nine were the
Chiefs of the three Courts of Common Law. The unanimous answer of these
grave, learned and upright magistrates was that the Court of King's
Bench was not competent to degrade a priest from his sacred office, or
to pass a sentence of perpetual imprisonment; and that therefore the
judgment against Oates was contrary to law, and ought to be reversed.
The Lords should undoubtedly have considered themselves as bound by this
opinion. That they knew Oates to be the worst of men was nothing to the
purpose. To them, sitting as a court of justice, he ought to have been
merely a John of Styles or a John of Nokes. But their indignation was
violently excited. Their habits were not those which fit men for the
discharge of judicial duties. The debate turned almost entirely on
matters to which no allusion ought to have been made. Not a single peer
ventured to affirm that the judgment was legal: but much was said about
the odious ch