fitted up as a place of public worship, in such a manner as to afford some security against the intrusion of an informer. The whole

building is now one of the most venerable memorials of nonconformist history.

How James II. fulfilled the evil destinies of his notorious family, and, whilst deaf to all friendly warning, rushed madly on the catastrophe which ended his dynasty; - how the king, diverted from the powerless nonconformists, provoked a party able to avenge its wrongs, the prelatical party itself; - how the seven bishops refused to proclaim the indulgence illegally granted by the monarch, and how James' war upon them hastened and consummated his own ruin; how William, Prince of Orange, was summoned by the voice of the nation to the forsaken throne; and exhausted by persecution, the nation consented to a form of toleration which, though essentially imperfect, was a large improvement on the terror of the preceding reigns; and how dissent became an evil to be borne with, if it could not be cured, absurd

how,

wearied

and contemptible as such a condition is, the reader of ordinary history already knows. That the main evil, however, still remained, though it was somewhat palliated and disguised, will be apparent in the few pages which yet follow.

CHAPTER XI.

66 HIGH CHURCH."

"Sir Richard Steele hit the mark when he thus distinguished the two principal churches in Christendom, the Church of Rome and the Church of England: that the former pretended to be infallible, and the latter to be always in the right." Whiston's Life, p. 168.

We have introduced the reader to London, as London, or some part of it, appeared at the commencement of the seventeenth century. The present scene is laid in the heart of the city a hundred years later. The ruins of the great and devastating fire have been long since removed, and the metropolis puts on an altered air. The opportunity would have been a noble one for carrying into execution the magnificent plans of Sir Christopher Wren, and for reducing the ill-arranged streets to a scheme presenting both grandeur and unity. But private interests had prevailed over public convenience, and the city arose as it best could. It was, however, greatly improved in its reconstruction. New churches, of which no less than fifty-one within the city were from the designs of Wren himself, met the eye in every direction, many of them alike remarkable for their elegance and convenience. The thoroughfares were, however, still narrow and confined; booths protruded in front of many of the houses; footpaths were unknown, except in a few favored quarters; and though some imperfect attempts had been made at lighting the streets, the effort had not, as yet, been remarkable for its succees. The great Cathedral Church of St. Paul's, though ruined in the plan for its construction by the desire of James II. to have it adapted to a Roman Catholic ceremonial, was advancing to its completion under the inspection of its now

aged architect.

The crowds which fill the streets are remarkable in their attire. The full periwig, the broad-bottomed coat, the conspicuous shoe-buckle, the dependent queue, distinguish the gentlemen, as the wide-spread hoop, now for some time in fashion, marks the ladies; whilst the more sober citizen contents himself with his single-breasted coat of russet color, and the square cravat which hangs pendent beneath his chin. How different is the new city in its character and costume from the old one, which so much distinguished itself in the wars of the parliament! The naked tyranny of the sovereign is not now the theme of every crowd and coffee-house. Popish plots are no more. The succession to the throne is no longer disputed. Commerce, formerly disordered and disorganized, is prosperous. England, which a little while ago

expatriated its own religious men, has become the haven for those who, driven from their homes by the revocation of the edict of Nantes, have taken refuge here, and have introduced their manufactures to the great benefit of the entire community. Has the nation, then, unlearned its old illiberalities? Has it arrived at

the conclusion that the war of the civil power with conscience is unrighteous and monstrous? Has the magistrate dropped his sword where the rights of Cæsar end, and where those of God begin? We shall see.

We are opposite to the New Exchange, A. D. 1703. (The reader will remember that, at the date of which we speak, it faced, not as now the east, but the south.) A large crowd is collected before the pillory which has been placed there. It is hung with garlands, by hands which little sympathize with the purpose of its erection. It contains a sufferer,-a man of the middle size, about forty years of age, with hooked nose, a sharp chin, a dark-colored wig, and a countenance bearing evident traces of much wear and tear, and in which the grave is about equally mingled with the satirical. His advent to the pillory has been a kind of triumphal procession; and now he is fixed in it, the scoffs do not arise nor the missiles fly; the mob, on the contrary, drink his health. The careful spectator may see, in the merry twinkle of those gray eyes, the trenchant

thoughts which he afterwards puts into verse, styled "A Hymn to the Pillory." The exhibition over, to be repeated in Cheapside, and at Temple-bar, on successive days, refreshments are handed to him, and he departs from a scene which is rather a triumph than a punishment.

Who is the criminal? A man of intelligible principles, though they were now out of fashion; the most versatile writer, perhaps, of our literature; a wit, a true lover of liberty, a conscientious dissenter, a brave and undaunted spirit; the author of works which will live long after the majority of his contemporary generation are forgotten; the future idol of youth, one of whose works will stand beside the Pilgrim's Progress, on every juvenile shelf.

"Fearlessly on high stands unabashed DEFOE."

What has he done? The answer to that question will demand a little retrospection.

When, on the revolution, William and Mary gained the throne of Great Britain, one of the earliest measures prompted by the king was a remission of the penal laws against protestant nonconformity. William's sentiments regarding religion were liberal; he was himself a presbyterian. Yet neither he nor the dissenters who so warmly supported him had any definite notion beyond that of "making the rule of Christianity to be the rule of conformity." Locke, to his immortal honor, though almost alone, advocated the true principle: "The cure of souls cannot belong to the civil magistrate, because the whole of his power consists in outward force; but true and saving religion consists in the inward persuasion of the mind, without which nothing is acceptable to God.

*

Magistracy does not oblige him to put off either humanity or Christianity. But it is one thing to persuade, another to command; one thing to press with arguments, another with penalties." It had been moved by Hampden, grandson of the patriot, in the House of Commons, that the oath which pledged the king to maintain the Church of England should be so modified as to admit of

his assenting to any forms and ceremonies which parliament should approve. But the effort was fruitless. It was next attempted to remove all impediments which prevented dissenters from exercising civic functions. This also was frustrated by a large majority; and an equally fruitless attempt was made to rescind the Test Act. All that could be gained was the Toleration Act; an imperfect and insulting measure, since it gave what it conferred as an act of grace, and involved in its very name the right to withhold. It made no provision for free education; it was only available to those who avowed the doctrinal articles of the Church of England; and it excluded from its benefits all Roman Catholics. It was, in fact, the old enemy, but in a more decorous dress.

Such as it was, however, it was extremely distasteful to the high church section; and Bishop Burnet lost great favor with his prelatical friends for the part he took in upholding it. He who would make himself acquainted with the opinions of those who opposed it has only to turn to the bitter and caustic diatribes of South. Such were the sentiments with which, in Queen Anne's time, Westminster Abbey and the royal chapels resounded!

Before the death of William, but after that of Queen Mary, a controversy had arisen which assumes considerable importance in the ecclesiastical history of the times. When so large a number of the citizens were dissenters, it was impossible that municipal offices should not often invite their acceptance; and it was customary for dissenters, in order to comply with the requisitions of the Test Act, to receive the communion occasionally at church. On one occasion, Sir Humphrey Edwin, then lord mayor, carried the paraphernalia of his office to Pinner's Hall meeting-house. This daring act of "profanation" was like a spark thrown into a barrel of gunpowder. Rebuke, abuse and satire, were alike directed against the offence. Dr. Nichols complained that the lord mayor carried the sword with him to "a nasty conventicle, which was held in a hall belonging to one of the mean mechanical companies in the city." Swift, in his "Tale of a Tub," satirizes Sir Humphrey Edwin, by describing Jack getting upon a great horse, and