From that time the great object of the narrowminded and peevish old man was to tear in pieces the Church of which he had been the chief minister.  It was in vain that some of those nonjurors, whose virtue, ability and learning were the glory of their party, remonstrated against his design.  “Our deprivation,”—­such was the reasoning of Ken,—­“is, in the sight of God, a nullity.  We are, and shall be, till we die or resign, the true Bishops of our sees.  Those who assume our titles and functions will incur the guilt of schism.  But with us, if we act as becomes us, the schism will die; and in the next generation the unity of the Church will be restored.  On the other hand, if we consecrate Bishops to succeed us, the breach may last through ages, and we shall be justly held accountable, not indeed for its origin, but for its continuance.”  These considerations ought, on Sancroft’s own principles, to have had decisive weight with him; but his angry passions prevailed.  Ken quietly retired from the venerable palace of Wells.  He had done, he said, with strife, and should henceforth vent his feelings not in disputes but in hymns.  His charities to the unhappy of all persuasions, especially to the followers of Monmouth and to the persecuted Huguenots, had been so large that his whole private fortune consisted of seven hundred pounds, and of a library which he could not bear to sell.  But Thomas Thynne, Viscount Weymouth, though not a nonjuror, did himself honour by offering to the most virtuous of the nonjurors a tranquil and dignified asylum in the princely mansion of Longleat.  There Ken passed a happy and honoured old age, during which he never regretted the sacrifice which he had made to what he thought his duty, and yet constantly became more and more indulgent to those whose views of duty differed from his.53

Sancroft was of a very different temper.  He had, indeed, as little to complain of as any man whom a revolution has ever hurled down from an exalted station.  He had at Fressingfield, in Suffolk, a patrimonial estate, which, together with what he had saved during a primacy of twelve years, enabled him to live, not indeed as he had lived when he was the first peer of Parliament, but in the style of an opulent country gentleman.  He retired to his hereditary abode; and there he passed the rest of his life in brooding over his wrongs.  Aversion to the Established Church became as strong a feeling in him as it had been in Martin Marprelate.  He considered all who remained in communion with her as heathens and publicans.  He nicknamed Tillotson the Mufti.  In the room which was used as a chapel at Fressingfield no person who had taken the oaths, or who attended the ministry of any divine who had taken the oaths, was suffered to partake of the sacred bread and wine.  A distinction, however, was made between two classes of offenders.  A layman who remained in communion with the Church was permitted to be present while prayers were read,