The Glorious Revolution

by Edward Vallance

  Statutory repeal was necessary to safeguard the political and religious emancipation of Catholics and dissenters affected by the issuing of a new royal declaration of indulgence on 4 April 1687. At this stage James still anticipated that his Protestant daughter, Mary, Princess of Orange, would succeed him and reverse any toleration gifted only by royal prerogative. Similarly, the indulgence (along with the judgement in Godden v Hales which upheld the royal power to give dispensations from the Test Acts) freed Catholics and dissenters to occupy public office and thereby, it was hoped, would allow the King to ‘pack’ Parliament with members likely to assent to the removal of the tests and penal laws. James’s expressed wish in the declaration that ‘all the people in our dominions were members of the Catholic Church’ sent a collective shiver down the spine of most Anglicans, even if it was undercut with the later statement that ‘conscience ought not to be constrained, nor people forced in matters of mere religion’.22 Some nonconformists as well as Anglicans expressed reservations. The Presbyterian minister Daniel Williams managed to persuade fellow dissenting divines in London not to send an address of thanks to the King, arguing, like Halifax, that ‘it was better for them to be reduced to their former hardships, than declare for measures destructive of the liberties of their country’.23 However, as the Axminster book of remembrance noted, many others ‘were too much ensnared and entangled by endeavouring to ingratiate themselves into the favour of this popish prince, professing such faithfulness and loyalty to him and presenting several addresses which savoured too much of a temporising spirit’.24 Overall, more than eighty loyal addresses were received from dissenting groups and their effusive praise of James’s grant of toleration filled the pages of the government’s official organ, the London Gazette. The Independents and Baptists of Gloucester renamed their monarch ‘King James the Just’ for his offer of indulgence.25 Suffolk Congregationalists waxed lyrical, stating that God had made James ‘a Covering Cherub to us, under whose refreshing Shadow we promise our selves Rest’.26 For Essex dissenters the King was a paragon of ‘Princely love’, making himself a ‘Universal conqueror, beloved at home, and formidable abroad, You have poured Shame upon Tyranny, and are become a Pattern of the sweetest Goodness and safest Policies’.27 Dissenting tradesmen and merchants chimed in with the arguments of the declaration of indulgence by extolling the benefits that toleration had had for their businesses.28

  However, as critics noted, the loyalty of some of those who sent in addresses was scarcely unimpeachable. One of the first addresses to be received was from former Monmouth rebels, thanking the King for his clemency.29 In some cases the protestations of loyalty offered seemed almost too strident; for example, that given by the Norwich Congregationalists: ‘however we may have been misrepresented, we are for Monarchy: And do not only acknowledge that Monarchy is the Onely Ancient, Legal and Rightful Government of this Nation: but that it is also the best Government’.

  As the Tory magistrate Sir John Bramston noted in his autobiography, ‘These are, and euer haue been, loyall subiects (wee all know), in a wronge sence.’30 It was harder to know what might have been the political allegiances of the ‘Orphans whose portions are owing to them from the Chamber of the City of London’, who sent in an address on 7 August 1687.31 The broadsheet satire The Humble Address of the Atheists, or the Sect of Epicureans (1688) parodied the self-serving nature of many of the addresses. The King’s ‘unlimited toleration’ had, it said, freed ‘the nation from the troublesome Bygottries of Religion, and has taught men to conclude, That there is nothing, sacred or Divine but Trade and Empire, and nothing of eternal Moment as secular Interest’. Thanks to James many had now ‘given over that Troublesome enquiry after Truth, and set down that easie Inference, That all Religion is a Cheat’. Yet there was a sting in the tail of this pastiche, for now that the King had freed them from ‘the solemn Superstition of Oaths, and especially from those slavish Ceremonious ones of Supremacy and Allegiance’ and declared that he expected ‘no more from your People, than what they are obliged to by the Ancient Law of Nature’, he must have given them leave ‘to preserve and defend themselves, according the First Chapter of Nature’s Magna Charta’.

  But the gathering of loyal addresses and their publication in the London Gazette was less an exercise in seeking public approval for the royal indulgence than a means of manufacturing consent. It should be noted that only one address from Roman Catholics was printed: the overall aim was to present the image of Protestant gratitude for this toleration gifted by the King’s prerogative.32 Moreover, in some cases the revision of charters that many towns and boroughs had undergone in the reign of Charles II allowed the court to remodel corporations and grand juries in order to produce sufficiently effusive addresses. The address received from Droitwich in Worcestershire was clearly issued after the purge, as it thanked James not only for his grant of liberty of conscience but for ‘the bringing of a Quo Warranto against the Bayliffs and Burgesses of this place, in order to relieve us from the unreasonable and insufferable Oppressions which we lay under’.33 The address from the Grand Jury of Hereford also appeared to be the product of a recent reshuffle, as the magistracy promised to elect to Parliament only those members who would repeal the Test Acts and penal laws.34 Edward Strode, former Monmouth rebel and now royal appointee as High Sheriff of Somerset, informed the court of his confrontation with existing members of the county magistracy. Retiring to an inn for dinner after the quarter sessions, Strode was accosted by Lord Fitzharding, who told him that he ‘had return’d a grand Jury of purpose to addresse, and yt ye King had not made me sheriff for nought, and more to this purpose’.35 Addresses that were deemed inadequate in their expressions of loyalty were sent back for further revision, as in the case of the corporation of Hull.36

  Yet, despite the obvious massaging of some corporations to produce sufficiently supportive replies, a large number of addresses made it into print which, upon closer examination, did no more than confirm the widening gulf between the King on the one hand and the Tory magistracy and Anglican clergy on the other. These addresses focused on the King’s promise in his Declaration of Indulgence to ‘protect and maintain our archbishops, bishops and clergy, and all other subjects of the Church of England in the free exercise of their religion as by law established, and in the quiet and full enjoyment of all their possessions, without any molestation or disturbance whatsoever’.37 The addresses returned by the Anglican clergy overwhelmingly thanked James for this promise, while making no mention of the benefits of his grant of religious toleration.38 At Oxford Professor William Jane succeeded in stopping the Anglican clergy of the county from sending any vote of thanks to the King.39 The clergy were further dissuaded from signing addresses of thanks for it by the Archbishop of Canterbury, William Sancroft, who composed a lengthy list of ‘Reasons against Subscription’ condemning the Indulgence for ‘endeavouring to abrogate laws for their [the dissenters’] sake’. The Tory magistracy also refrained from applauding James’s royal indulgence. The humble address from the town of Ludlow stated that as others had been effusive in thanking the King for his indulgence, they would be as generous in their praise of his promise to secure the Church.40 Other towns and boroughs gave implicit criticisms of the King’s policies in their addresses. That from Richmond, near London, hinted at the spectre of ‘fanatick’ government prompted by James’s intrusion of Whigs and dissenters into civic government. They were, they said, ‘infinitely sensible of the Blessings of our Deliverance from a Republican Tyranny of near Twenty years continuance, where the Church of England, as the pillar of this Imperial Monarchy, was still the burden, and the mark of all their Envy and Malice’ and so thanked the King for his assurances concerning his care for the Church of England in the Declaration.41 The address from the city of Bath reflected on James’s pardoning and employing former rebels. They referred to their loyalty in defending the city from

  James Scot and his Abettors; and our resolutions at that time were so Loyally fixt, that we
resolved to die at our Gates, rather than suffer them to come within the Walls of this your Majesties City; which plainly appeared by killing the first to that Party that summoned the City to surrender. And now Great Sir, we again return your Majesty our due and hearty Thanks, not only for your Gracious Favour to us for the enjoying our Religion, but for your Mercy, Clemency and Goodness in pardoning your greatest Enemies; hoping that may cure their distracted Minds. If not, we your majesties loyal subjects of this City, will be always ready to hazard our Lives, in defence of your Majesties most Sacred Person; which that God may always preserve, shall be the Prayers of us.42

  The division that was now opening up between the Crown and its former Anglican-Tory allies was not only reflected in these less than loyal addresses but also in the culmination of the King’s struggles with the University of Oxford in the Magdalen College affair. The College had ignored a royal order to elect Anthony Farmer, a nominee of Obediah Walker, as its President, complaining that Farmer was ‘debauched and lewd’ (the Fellows claimed that Farmer had paid someone to procure a naked woman for him and that when the King’s letter appointing him President arrived at the College, he had been at a boozy knees-up at the Lobster tavern in Abingdon, where he caused uproar by trying to French-kiss a young woman in public).43 Instead, the Fellows voted in their own candidate, John Hough.44 The College continued to flout the King’s will when it took no notice of a further order deposing Hough and putting in his place Samuel Parker, Bishop of Oxford. James resolved to settle the matter, visiting the university in person in September of 1687. The Fellows tendered a petition to James in which they affirmed that it was not in their power to obey the royal mandate, which was in contravention of the College’s oaths and statutes. The King responded furiously:

  is this your Church of England’s loyalty? One would wonder to find so many Church of England men in such a business. Go back and shew yourselves good members of the Church of England. Get ye gone; know I am your King and I command you to be gone. Go and admit the Bishop of Oxon Head, Principal (what do ye call it of your College) … I mean President of the College. Let him know that refuses it, – Look to’t, they shall find the weight of their sovereign’s displeasure.

  After James’s outburst the Fellows were ordered to retire to the College’s chapel and elect Parker President, but despite the threat that they could otherwise ‘expect to feele the heauie hand of an angrie King’, they continued to disobey. In November 1688 the ecclesiastical commission expelled twenty-five Fellows, and by March 1688 their places had been taken by Roman Catholics and Bonaventura Gifford had been appointed as their President.45 Oxford’s sister university, Cambridge, was similarly unwilling to bend to royal demands, refusing to confer the degree of MA on Alban Francis, for which the vice chancellor, John Peachall, was deprived of his post.46

  The stance of Magdalen College has been cited as a classic example of Anglican ‘passive resistance’ to James’s romanising policies: it offered no direct challenge to the King’s authority or dispensing power, but steadfastly refused to follow his commands, falling back on the obligations of the college statutes and oaths. In the spring and summer of 1687, however, a number of leading figures, including Danby, Halifax and Compton, were actively courted by the Prince of Orange, who sent over two envoys, Dijkvelt and Zuylestein, to improve his contacts with English politicians.47 At this stage William and his allies limited themselves to frustrating James’s attempts to secure approval for his indulgence and for the repeal of the tests and penal laws. William resisted pressure from James to publicly endorse taking off the tests and instead had a letter distributed in England detailing his support for religious toleration but his opposition to allowing Catholics to occupy places of public trust.48 The King’s agents reported the effectiveness of this letter and other pamphlets in galvanising public opinion against submitting to the repeal of the tests.49 Although armed intervention was not discussed at this stage, the building of these contacts between William and leading figures in England clearly paved the way for the Dutch invasion.

  Royal declarations of indulgence had been defeated by Parliament in 1662 and 1673 and, given the equivocal response presented in the loyal addresses, we might deem James’s declaration likewise a failure. Yet, viewed in the terms of his earlier schemes, it was arguably a success. As he had hoped it would in the 1670s, the offer of religious toleration had driven a wedge between the Church of England and Protestant nonconformity and helped cement an alliance between Whiggery and dissent, and Catholicism and the Crown. Whig propagandists like the Presbyterian Henry Care, once the author of the leading exclusionist news-sheet the Weekly Pacquet of Advice from Rome, turned their literary efforts towards promoting the cause of religious toleration. Presbyterian ministers Vincent Alsop and Stephen Lobb delivered eulogies on the King’s munificence. Former Cromwellians and Fifth Monarchists took up places as magistrates.50 A number of the associates of the philosopher John Locke (now in exile as a result of his links to the Earl of Shaftesbury and the Rye House Plot) encouraged him to return home and plead for a royal pardon.51 The collaboration of so many Whigs and dissenters with the Crown’s policies raised Anglican-Tory fears, not only of popish absolutism but also of republican ‘fanaticism’. The memories evoked were not only those familiar episodes of popish cruelty and treachery, the reign of ‘Bloody’ Mary and the Gunpowder Plot, but also more recent experiences of rule by sectaries, major generals and commonwealths-men in the 1650s.

  In July 1687 James formally dissolved his first Parliament and began engineering a new one that would confirm the freedoms granted by his indulgence through the repeal of the tests and penal laws. To achieve this, the King adopted two strategies. First, he went on a royal progress through the west and north-west of England (the two areas that had seemed the likeliest sources of insurrection in the first year of his reign). Secondly, he instructed royal agents to survey the opinions of JPs, Deputy Lieutenants and other county and civic officers concerning the repeal of the tests and penal laws through the tendering of three questions. James’s progress was not a resounding success. In September the Prince of Orange received reports that ‘few of the gentry waited on his Majesty’ during his progress.52 Some of those who did attend appear to have had deep misgivings. The Cheshire Presbyterian minister Henry Newcome recalled how he and other ministers had arranged to meet the King on Rowton Heath: ‘It being thought fit that something should have been said to the king, and it fell to me as the senior etc., but I was utterly averse unto it. Mr Jolly accepted it. The brethren were greatly unsatisfied, so that I should have had blame.’ The potential embarrassment was averted as ‘his majesty came by us and stayed not; but put off his hat, and passed on. And so there was nothing said, and all was well.’ (Newcome’s ambivalence towards James is further revealed by the fact that he had a new loyal address to the King suppressed.)53 The King himself appears to have enjoyed the exercise little, avoiding the dubious pleasure of a fish supper laid on in his honour by the mayor and corporation of Holywell by escaping through a back door.54 The miserable tour culminated in Oxford, with James’s verbal assault on the recalcitrant Fellows of Magdalen.

  Following the royal progress, in October 1687 the Lord Lieutenants were instructed to gather replies from their deputies, sheriffs and magistrates to three questions: first, would they, if elected to Parliament, vote for the repeal of the Test Acts and penal laws? Secondly, would they assist in the election of candidates who would assent to removal of the tests and laws? Thirdly, would they support the Declaration of Indulgence ‘by living friendly with those of all persuasions, as subjects of the same Prince, and good Christians ought to do’. The third question received an overwhelmingly positive response, with only one individual replying negatively. Thomas Waite, a magistrate of York, complained that ‘as a Justice’ he had ‘sworne to observe Law and Justice, the neglect whereof is fineable and punishable, and by the 20th of K. Ed. 3.1, noe justice is to neglect or defer it for the King’s letters, writs commands, w
hich if he doe, he is to be at the King’s Will for body, lands and goods’. He reminded the royal agents that, according to the 1670 Conventicle Act, he was obliged to act against nonconformist meetings, on pain of a fine of £100 for failure, and was likewise bound by the Test Act of 1678, and therefore could not ‘with safety publickly declaire to support any Declaration out of Parliament, that is contrary to these laws’.55

  It has been suggested that the returns reveal the growing tolerance of the political nation, given that only one negative response was received to the third question. Certainly some of those interviewed appeared willing to consider the repeal of the penal laws if they could not countenance the removal of the tests.56 Yet, when most of the respondents replied positively to the third question, all that they were really agreeing to was to keep the peace and not make windows into men’s souls. This was made clear by the number of replies which hedged in their assent with the words ‘as far as the law allowed’, which, as Waite had pointed out, included the Test Acts and the penal laws, directly contrary to the King’s indulgence.57 The responses of some were risibly evasive: the Bedfordshire JP Samuel Rhodes answered: