which had become vacant in consequence of the deprivation of Sancroft and the promotion of Tillotson.  The rage of the nonjurors amounted almost to frenzy.  Was it not enough, they asked, to desert the true and pure Church, in this her hour of sorrow and peril, without also slandering her?  It was easy to understand why a greedy, cowardly hypocrite should refuse to take the oaths to the usurper as long as it seemed probable that the rightful King would be restored, and should make haste to swear after the battle of the Boyne.  Such tergiversation in times of civil discord was nothing new.  What was new was that the turncoat should try to throw his own guilt and shame on the Church of England, and should proclaim that she had taught him to turn against the weak who were in the right, and to cringe to the powerful who were in the wrong.  Had such indeed been her doctrine or her practice in evil days?  Had she abandoned her Royal Martyr in the prison or on the scaffold?  Had she enjoined her children to pay obedience to the Rump or to the Protector?  Yet was the government of the Rump or of the Protector less entitled to be called a settled government than the government of William and Mary?  Had not the battle of Worcester been as great a blow to the hopes of the House of Stuart as the battle of the Boyne?  Had not the chances of a Restoration seemed as small in 1657 as they could seem to any judicious man in 1691?  In spite of invectives and sarcasms, however, there was Overall’s treatise; there were the approving votes of the two Convocations; and it was much easier to rail at Sherlock than to explain away either the treatise or the votes.  One writer maintained that by a thoroughly settled government must have been meant a government of which the title was uncontested.  Thus, he said, the government of the United Provinces became a settled government when it was recognised by Spain, and, but for that recognition, would never have been a settled government to the end of time.  Another casuist, somewhat less austere, pronounced that a government, wrongful in its origin, might become a settled government after the lapse of a century.  On the thirteenth of February 1789, therefore, and not a day earlier, Englishmen would be at liberty to swear allegiance to a government sprung from the Revolution.  The history of the chosen people was ransacked for precedents.  Was Eglon’s a settled government when Ehud stabbed him?  Was Joram’s a settled government when Jehe shot him?  But the leading case was that of Athaliah.  It was indeed a case which furnished the malecontents with many happy and pungent allusions; a kingdom treacherously seized by an usurper near in blood to the throne; the rightful prince long dispossessed; a part of the sacerdotal order true, through many disastrous years, to the Royal House; a counterrevolution at length effected by the High Priest at the head of the Levites.  Who, it was asked, would dare to blame the heroic pontiff who had restored the heir of David?  Yet was not the government of Athaliah as firmly settled as that of the Prince of Orange?