had not entered by the door, but had climbed over the fences.  He was a hireling whose own the sheep were not, who had usurped the crook of the good shepherd, and who might well be expected to leave the flock at the mercy of every wolf.  He was an Arian, a Socinian, a Deist, an Atheist.  He had cozened the world by fine phrases, and by a show of moral goodness:  but he was in truth a far more dangerous enemy of the Church than he could have been if he had openly proclaimed himself a disciple of Hobbes, and had lived as loosely as Wilmot.  He had taught the fine gentlemen and ladies who admired his style, and who were constantly seen round his pulpit, that they might be very good Christians, and yet might believe the account of the Fall in the book of Genesis to be allegorical.  Indeed they might easily be as good Christians as he; for he had never been christened; his parents were Anabaptists; he had lost their religion when he was a boy; and he had never found another.  In ribald lampoons he was nicknamed Undipped John.  The parish register of his baptism was produced in vain.  His enemies still continued to complain that they had lived to see fathers of the Church who never were her children.  They made up a story that the Queen had felt bitter remorse for the great crime by which she had obtained a throne, that in her agony she had applied to Tillotson, and that he had comforted her by assuring her that the punishment of the wicked in a future state would not be eternal.47 The Archbishop’s mind was naturally of almost feminine delicacy, and had been rather softened than braced by the habits of a long life, during which contending sects and factions had agreed in speaking of his abilities with admiration and of his character with esteem.  The storm of obloquy which he had to face for the first time at more than sixty years of age was too much for him.  His spirits declined; his health gave way; yet he neither flinched from his duty nor attempted to revenge himself on his persecutors.  A few days after his consecration, some persons were seized while dispersing libels in which he was reviled.  The law officers of the Crown proposed to institute prosecutions; but he insisted that nobody should be punished on his account.48 Once, when he had company with him, a sealed packet was put into his hands; he opened it; and out fell a mask.  His friends were shocked and incensed by this cowardly insult; but the Archbishop, trying to conceal his anguish by a smile, pointed to the pamphlets which covered his table, and said that the reproach which the emblem of the mask was intended to convey might be called gentle when compared with other reproaches which he daily had to endure.  After his death a bundle of the savage lampoons which the nonjurors had circulated against him was found among his papers with this indorsement:  “I pray God forgive them; I do."49