om
the world; nor was there any purer and more fervent spirit in the list
of those whose active services were lost to the Church of England by the
new oath of allegiance.

Henry Dodwell was another of Robert Nelson's most esteemed friends.
After the loss of his Camdenian Professorship of History, he lived among
his nonjuring acquaintances at Shottisbrooke, immersed in abstruse
studies. His profound learning--for he was acknowledged to be one of the
most learned men in Europe[27]--especially his thorough familiarity with
all precedents drawn from patristic antiquity, made him a great
authority in the perplexities which from time to time divided the
Nonjurors. It was mainly to him that Nelson owed his return to the
established Communion. Dodwell had been very ardent against the oaths;
when he conceived the possibility of Ken's accepting them, he had
written him a long letter of anxious remonstrance; he had written
another letter of indignant concern to Sherlock, on news of his
intended compliance.[28] But his special standing point was based upon
the argument that it was schism of the worst order to side with bishops
who had been intruded by mere lay authority into sees which had other
rightful occupiers. When, therefore, this hindrance no longer existed,
he was of opinion that political differences, however great, should be
no bar to Church Communion, and that the State prayers were no
insurmountable difficulty. Nelson gladly agreed, and the bells of
Shottisbrooke rang merrily when he and Dodwell, and the other Nonjurors
resident in that place, returned to the parish church.[29]

Dodwell is a well-known example of the extravagances of opinion, into
which a student may be led, who, in perfect seclusion from the world,
follows up his views unguided by practical considerations. Greatly as
his friends respected his judgment on all points of precedent and
authority, they readily allowed he had more of the innocency of the dove
than the wisdom of the serpent.[30] His faculties were in fact
over-burdened with the weight of his learning, and his published works,
which followed one another in quick succession, contained
eccentricities, strange to the verge of madness. A layman himself, he
held views as to the dignities and power of the priesthood, of which the
'Tatler'[31] might well say that Rome herself had never forged such
chains for the consciences of the laity as he would have imposed.
Starting upon an assumption, common