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Fallen from Grace

By

Laura Leone
 Contents

PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
EPILOGUE
 Copyright © 2003 by Laura Resnick
All rights reserved.

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of
the author's imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously.

Set in 11 pt. Plantin by Ramona A. Watson.

Printed in the United States on permanent paper.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Leone, Laura, 1962—
Fallen from grace / Laura Leone, p. cm.—(Five Star expressions)
ISBN 0-7862-4708-8 (he : alk. paper)
ISBN 1-4104-0181-2 (sc : alk. paper)
1. Women authors—Fiction. 2. Runaway teenagers—
Fiction. 3. Sex-oriented businesses—Fiction. I. Title.
II. Series.
PS3568.E689 F35 2003
813'.6—dc21 2002035943
 This book is dedicated to my editor, Russell Davis, who is smart enough
to believe that romance readers want a good story more than they want a
safe one.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Special thanks to Valerie Taylor for walking through the story ideas with
me. I'm also grateful to Mary Jo Putney for her support and encouragement.
Many thanks to Theresa Medeiros, Susan Wiggs, Kathleen Eagle, Anne
Stuart, and Barbara Samuel—with friends like these, who needs fairy
godmothers? To the understanding folks of the Space Coast Writers Guild, I
offer my apologies for spending the whole weekend locked in my hotel
room trying to finish this book. As for Karen, Julie, and Lee Ann… I told
you that those books I brought on our trip were legitimate research.
 Praise for Fallen from Grace

"Fallen from Grace is an amazingly powerful,

emotional and thought-provoking book… Leone's
gift for storytelling shines in a truly provocative,
gritty, tender and unforgettable story."
—Romantic Times

"In this realistically gritty, sometimes violent, and

gripping tale, Leone reveals the seamier side of
society's maneuvering while she spins an
unconventional romance between two unhappy
people who find that love, like respect, can grow out
of friendship and shared experiences and that new
beginnings are indeed possible for those with the
determination and courage to pursue them."
—Booklist

"… a fast-moving, compelling read… Fallen from

Grace is recommended for its unusual pairing, its
audacity to examine the seamier side and its ultimate
message of hope and redemption."
—The Romance Reader
"Laura Leone writes every woman's fantasy—real
men and hot heroes to warm a cold winter's night."
—Patricia Rice, New York Times bestselling author
of McCloud's Woman

"Laura Leone will keep readers up all night with this

fascinating, passionate and emotional novel. This
unusual love story, told with freshness and
authenticity, gives new meaning to the term 'tortured
hero' and illuminates the healing power of love."
—Award-winning author, Susan Wiggs

"Laura Leone… crafts an interesting and emotionally

compelling love story that resonates on many
levels."
—AllAboutRomance.com

"Innovative and thoroughly engaging, Laura Leone

has done it again! She's one of the few on my Must
Read list, and Fallen from Grace is her best yet."
—Kathleen Eagle, bestselling author of Once Upon
a Wedding

"… a powerful, soul-searching story… this book is a

keeper…"
—LoveRomances.Com
 PROLOGUE

Afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows as the woman in his

arms gasped with startled passion and arched her back off the bed. Her
hands moved uncertainly over his naked shoulders as she sought something
more from him.
He obliged by lowering his head to kiss both her nipples, then he took
one in his mouth and sucked—gently at first, then harder when she started
stroking his hair.
"Mmmm…" He moaned in his throat, wordlessly praising her, then
caressed her torso with slow, admiring hands… and turned his head to take
a discreet glance at the clock on the nightstand.
They had about twenty minutes left.
She had wanted more foreplay than he'd expected, given that she'd only
set aside an hour for this. Since this was their first time together, he wasn't
sure how long it would take her to climax, let alone how long she'd want
him to stick around afterwards. And since he was supposed to be out of here
by four o'clock… he now set about rushing her without seeming to rush her.
He nibbled on her breast, urgent without being rough. As she shifted
restlessly, he slid his hand between her legs and started stroking her.
Damn.
She wasn't as ready as he'd hoped.
Nerves, undoubtedly. Women were often like this the first time, unless
they'd done this before with someone else and felt confident about what
they were getting into.
 He was experienced enough to have sized her up quickly, so he knew
that his best bet was to do too little rather than too much. He let his hand go
still on her barely-damp mound and just pressed the heel of his palm there,
exerting a subtle, steady pressure as he lifted his head and gazed into her
eyes.
Oh, yeah, he thought, studying what he saw there. Nerves.
He brushed his mouth against hers, letting his lips caress hers with
intimate laziness.
Give her the control. Give her the power… And hope that she can get off
fast once she relaxes.
"Do you want me inside you?" he whispered, nibbling all around her
mouth as he spoke.
"Uh…"
"I don't have to," he murmured, pressing the heel of his palm against her.
"Not this time. Not if you're not sure."
"Um, but you're, um…" She sighed and tilted her head back, eyes
closed. He was kissing her throat and under her chin as she said, "You
know. Hard."
He nudged her hip with his erection, letting her know that it was okay to
talk about it, that it was nothing to fear. "It doesn't matter."
He started circling his hand against her. Just a little. Barely moving at
all.
She swallowed. "But… don't you want—"
"Yes, but I can wait until next time. Or the time after." He kissed her
with exquisite gentleness. "It's only going to happen when you want it.
When you're sure."
She met his gaze again.
Ah…
There it was: a little relief in her expression, a little relaxation of her
facial muscles.
"Then maybe…" She licked her lips.
 "You want to wait?" He nodded as he asked this, so that she'd know she
could say it.
"Yes." Now she nodded, too. "I, uh, I want to wait."
He could tell it surprised her. Not just that she had a choice about it, but
also that this was the choice she now made, after having come here.
"Then we'll wait," he agreed.
A slight quiver of a smile. "Okay." Now she let her breath out on a
sudden puff of stifled laughter. More of the tension leaving. "I thought I…"
"This is for you." He kissed her shoulder. "This is whatever you want.
Whatever you want."
Well, within reason. If she wanted him to stay late, she'd have to live
with the disappointment.
"I guess…" She nodded again and started to look a little more
comfortable. "Yes, I guess so. Whatever I want."
He lowered his head to let his breath flow into her ear as he whispered,
"But you do want to come, don't you?"
Her breath escaped her in a rush. She gave a silent grunt of assent as he
circled his palm more firmly against the juncture of her thighs.
Experience—as well as a good mentor—had taught him that the brain
was a woman's most important sex organ, and since he was starting to feel
pressed for time, he turned his full attention to this one's mind to keep
things moving along.
"You want to come all over my hand, don't you?" he whispered, his lips
brushing her ear.
"Um…"
"Because I want that," he assured her, pushing her with words and
images. "I want your legs spread wide…" He nudged them farther apart.
"And I want you wet…"
"Mmmm…"
"And rubbing against me." He explored her with his fingers now, feeling
her whole body quiver as he did so. "And slick… and sweet… and hot…"
 "Yes," she whimpered, starting to go there now, getting all tight and
loose at once.
"How does that feel?"
"That feels… good."
"And that?"
"Oh!" She gave a convulsive buck.
Okay, getting closer.
"Is this what you want?" he murmured.
Her head tossed on the pillow.
"More?" he asked.
"More, yes, more."
She started moving her hips in response to his caresses, and her grip on
his left shoulder was carelessly rough. Her other hand clutched the sheet,
and her face was turned away from him as she started moaning freely,
beginning to lose herself in sensation.
He kept whispering to her, but he asked no more questions. Not now. He
didn't want to distract her, make her lose momentum by interacting with
him, because they had—he took a quick glance at the clock—barely ten
minutes left. So now he just murmured erotic nothings to her, keeping her
mind stimulated along with her body, praising her femininity, her beauty,
her responsiveness.
She came with pleasing clarity, ensuring that no guesswork need be
involved. She cried out, arched off the bed, pumped rhythmically against
his stroking hand… and finally collapsed, flushed, limp, and breathing hard.
He held her for a few minutes, waited for her to open her eyes and look
at him, and then commenced the post-game wrap-up. No multiple orgasms
today. Not with three minutes left on the clock.
"How do you feel?" he murmured, brushing her tousled hair away from
her face.
She looked simultaneously satisfied and wary. "I feel like… like we've
just made love."
Score.
 "We did." He kissed her gently and brushed his fingertips across her
belly.
"I didn't expect… I mean, I didn't think… I thought—"
"Shhh." He kissed the corner of her eye, where fine lines showed. "This
is whatever you want."
She nodded. "Whatever I want."
She hadn't had any plastic surgery as far as he could tell. Nature showed
on her—unless she was coloring her hair. He nuzzled her neck, guessing
she was about fifteen years older than he was.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"Yes." She suddenly smiled. It made her look pretty. "I mean… Yes! I
feel…" She laughed and said no more.
"I have to go," he whispered.
"Oh?" But she looked more relieved than sorry.
He wasn't surprised that she wanted to be alone with this now. Maybe
she'd call a friend and tell her the details, or maybe she'd take a long bath
and pamper herself in solitude. Maybe she'd just lie in the sex-scented
sheets for another hour and replay everything in her mind. Whatever she
would do, she welcomed the privacy his departure would give her now.
He rose from the bed, went to wash up in the impersonal but elegant
bathroom, then came back into the bedroom and started dressing. He put his
clothes on slowly, garment by garment, letting her study the body she'd
been too nervous to stare at earlier, despite her obvious curiosity. She
watched him zip his trousers over the bulge in his briefs.
"Are you… Will that be all right?" she asked.
"Don't worry about it." He smiled reassuringly at her.
When he was ready to go, he returned to the bed and gave her a brief
kiss.
"I hope I'll see you again." He stroked her arm in tender farewell, then
turned and headed for the door.
When his hand was on the knob, she said, "Kevin, wait."
 He turned around. She rose awkwardly from the bed, dragging the sheet
with her, unprepared to let him look at her the way she was entitled to look
at him.
She clutched the sheet to her breasts. "I don't think I realized just how
anxious I was until you said… you know… that we didn't have to…"
"I know."
"And I appreciate…" She laughed nervously, then said in a more normal
voice, "You're really very kind, aren't you?"
He shook his head. "You don't have to—"
"I don't mean that. Well, not specifically. I mean… overall. You made
this…" She shrugged. "I… I enjoyed this very much. In a way that I didn't
expect to."
"I'm glad." He touched her cheek.
"So I, uh… Well, of course, I already… And maybe you don't…"
"What?" he asked.
She suddenly crossed to the dresser, dug into her purse, and pulled out
her wallet. She avoided his eyes as she said, "I don't want to insult… but,
uh…" She removed a few green bills from her wallet, folded them around
her fingers, and extended the offering to him. "Is this all right?"
He grinned. "Always."
He had taught himself to accept tips in a graceful, easy-going way so
that anyone who did it the first time would feel comfortable about doing it
again. Preferably, every time. It was money he never had to share with
Catherine. And now that he knew this woman was a tipper, he'd be more
willing to put in a little overtime with her if he had to; Catherine wouldn't
pay him for it, but as long as the client covered his time, he'd cooperate with
good grace.
He kissed her hand as he took the money, smiled at her as he slipped the
cash into his pocket, and said, "Have a good weekend, Alice."
"You, too, Kevin," she replied.
Once the hotel room door was closed solidly behind him, he reached
into his pocket and pulled the money back out to count it. Eighty. Not bad.
 He reached inside his jacket and found his cell phone. He hit the autodial
and waited for an answer.
"Hello?" Catherine said.
"This is Kevin," he said, walking down the hall towards the elevator. "I
just finished the Van Offelen appointment."
"Did everything go all right?" Her voice was, as always, smooth,
courteous, cultured.
"Yeah, fine. You might want to suggest two hours to her next time."
"There'll be a next time, then?"
"I'm pretty sure." He stepped into the elevator when it arrived, already
full of people heading for the ground floor.
"Good. Just a minute." He heard someone else's muffled voice, then
Catherine replying to it. After a moment, she returned to their conversation.
"And you think she'd like a longer appointment?"
"Yes."
"Hmmm. Newly divorced women," she mused. "It's always hard to tell if
they'll become regulars or are just looking for something to cleanse their
palate."
He shrugged, feeling the elevator's descent starting to slow. "I don't think
she knows yet."
"Is she going to ask for you next time?"
"She liked me," he said noncommittally as the elevator doors swished
open and he stepped out onto the marble floor of the lobby.
"That's not what I asked."
Mindful that he was in a public place, although no one was paying
attention to him, he lowered his voice as he crossed the vast lobby and
headed towards the front exit. "Probably. I think she'll want the same guy
every time. At least for a while."
"Any singularities?"
"No," he replied. "She's just shy and nervous. Being with a total stranger
bothered her." Which wasn't unusual.
 "All right." Done with that business, Catherine changed the subject. "I've
got the details now for this evening. You're expected at six-thirty."
He checked his watch. "Where?"
She gave him an address on Russian Hill. He memorized it and started
mentally rearranging his afternoon plans to accommodate the appointment
being earlier than he'd expected. As he left the hotel, a sudden gust of wind
off the bay nearly blew him back inside.
"Jesus!"
"Kevin?"
"Yeah, I'm here." Rush hour traffic was getting under way in San
Francisco, raising the decibel level on the street. He couldn't make out her
next comment. "What? Speak up."
"I said it's formal."
"A tux?"
"Yes."
He sighed in unguarded frustration as he handed his ticket to the valet
waiting outside the lobby doors.
Catherine asked, "Is that a problem?"
"No. No problem." His tux was at the dry cleaners. He'd have to stop off
there, go home, shower, dress, then double back most of the way to Russian
Hill. So much for the rest of the day. "What am I doing?"
"Escorting the client to a political fundraiser. In her own words: bad
food, worse entertainment, astronomical prices." Catherine made a sound of
amusement. "I'll never understand why people get involved in politics."
"Disgraceful, isn't it?" he said. "At least I give good value for your
astronomical prices."
She ignored that. She almost always ignored comments like that. "The
client will decide this evening, after meeting you, whether or not she wants
you to go home with her. If she does, she'll say so. Otherwise, she wants no
overtures from you."
"Understood." Some clients wanted the fantasy of an ardent lover; other
women wanted a presentable escort who wouldn't pressure them for so
much as a goodnight kiss.
"Call me tomorrow to let me know how it turns out," Catherine said,
"and I'll bill her accordingly."
Catherine didn't charge for sex, of course; that would be crude—and so
blatantly illegal that it would lead to busts on the basis of sheer stupidity.
No, Catherine would charge the client for Kevin's time. And since he
wanted to get paid for every minute he was working, he'd certainly tell her
whether he and the client parted company after dinner, after a little sex, or
after dawn.
"Fine, I'll talk to you tomorrow." He hung up without saying goodbye,
then pulled a couple of bucks out of his wallet to tip the valet when he saw
his Infiniti pulling up.
Great, he thought. He'd get into his monkey suit, look politely interested
all evening at some excruciatingly dull event, and wait for the client to
decide whether or not she wanted to fuck him before he could go home.
Yes, indeed, so much for the rest of the day.
Oh, well. That's what whores do. Get over it.
 CHAPTER ONE

"Are you out of your mind?" Sara's sister demanded.

"It's this sort of moral support that I really value in our relationship,"
Sara told her.
"You've gone crazy! I'm not giving moral support to insanity!" Miriam
insisted.
Sara looked around at her new apartment. "You don't like it?"
"I can't believe you gave up a condo in Richmond for this."
"You know why I gave up the condo. And let's not," she added hastily,
"argue about it again. The condo is sold. End of story."
She'd made a sizeable down payment on the place seven years earlier,
and then she'd paid for significant improvements to it a couple of years
later, using the money from her first book sale. The condo's location in a
desirable neighborhood north of Golden Gate Park also helped to ensure
that, upon selling it last month, Sara had made a tidy profit.
Miriam shook her head. "It happened too fast. You put that place on the
market on the basis of a desperate, impractical impulse, and two days later
you had a buyer. You never had a chance to come to your senses." Miriam
tried to shove some moving boxes aside, discovered she couldn't, and
wound up squeezing awkwardly past them as she entered the kitchen. A
moment later she called out, "This is your kitchen?"
Sara sighed and remained in the living room. "There's nothing wrong
with the kitchen."
 Miriam squeezed past the boxes to re-enter the living room. "It looks
like it hasn't been renovated since Eisenhower was president."
"I like it," Sara opined. "It's homey."
"Sara, you had that gorgeous modern kitchen—"
"This one's bigger."
"This one has appliances that poor people brought over from the old
country before we were born."
"It's not the apartment that bothers you, it's the choices I've made."
"That's true." Miriam put her hands on her hips and looked around. "But
the apartment makes it clear just how bad your choices are."
"Mir, this is how I lived before I got the condo."
"But now you're thirty-five and unemployed, instead of twenty-seven
with a good job."
"I hated that job. And I really appreciate the positive way you've
expressed my circumstances."
"Of course, I probably don't have to worry about you becoming destitute
in a year, because it's very likely you'll soon die of a heart attack climbing
those stairs."
Sara grimaced. "The stairs are a little daunting," she admitted. "The
movers looked like they were going to throw up by the time they finished,
and they charged me two hundred dollars more than the estimate."
Glen Park was a hilly neighborhood with curvy streets. It was safe,
charming, and more affordable than the more famous San Francisco
neighborhoods north of here. Sara thought it had a real community feeling,
almost like a mountain village. But there were undeniably certain steepness
issues here—particularly within the building.
"It's pretty obvious why this place was vacant despite the reasonable
rent," Miriam said. "Not one person in a hundred could face climbing those
stairs every day."
"They'll keep me in shape."
"Don't try to look on the bright side. There is no bright side."
"I'll get used to them," Sara lied.
 This eccentric old Victorian building was near the summit of a big hill,
and Sara's second-floor apartment was at the top of two long flights of
steep, uneven stairs which leaned precariously to one side—with nothing
but a flimsy railing to prevent a dizzy climber from the sort of fall usually
favored by bungee jumpers and suicides.
Miriam looked at Sara's enormous, cushiony couch and wondered, "How
on earth did the movers get that up here?"
"I had to shame them into it."
"And what," Miriam said, turning to look at the long wall which
separated this one from the apartment next door, "is that?"
"It's a mural. The guy downstairs—he owns the building—is a mural
painter."
An elaborate abstract mural covered the entire wall, floor to ceiling.
Miriam asked, "Has your landlord ever been imprisoned for his crimes
against art?"
"You don't like it," Sara gathered.
"I'm sure that, like the stairs, it'll grow on me."
Sara studied the mural. "I think it's kind of… stimulating."
"Stimulating? I can't decide if it's obscene, or violent, or pastoral, or—"
"That's what stimulating about it. I haven't a clue what it is. I figure I can
sit at my desk and stare at it, seeing new things in it every single day."
"Yes, I know. Writers spend a lot of time staring into space." Miriam
shook her head. "But wouldn't staring at thin air be preferable to this?"
"I also have a nice view to stare at," Sara said, heading toward the
French doors on the far wall. "See?" She opened them and led the way out
onto the balcony.
"Wow. " Miriam's eyes widened as she came out into the breezy late
afternoon air. "Okay, this is nice. I admit it."
The balcony, which overlooked Glen Canyon Park and part of the
neighborhood, was enormous, a large wooden terrace jutting out from the
building, bordered by big, sturdy railings which came up to Sara's midriff.
The late afternoon sun beamed down upon a dozen potted plants positioned
around the balcony.
Miriam noticed these. "You don't grow plants."
"They belong to the guy next door. We share the balcony."
Miriam squinted at her. "What's he like?"
"I haven't met him." She reminded her sister, "I just moved in three
hours ago."
"So you're sharing your balcony with a strange man."
"He may not be that strange."
"A man who can look through these windows into your home whenever
he wants to. A man who will have access to these flimsy French doors at all
hours of day and night." She paused in her critical examination of said
flimsy doors. "Good God! The lock doesn't work!"
"I'm going to ask the landlord to fix that," Sara said.
"You have gone crazy."
"Look, there's only the one neighbor—"
"Oh, good, he can rape and murder you in perfect privacy."
"And Lance—the landlord—says he's a nice, quiet guy."
"And the LSD-crazed manic-depressive who painted that mural in your
living room is undoubtedly a shrewd judge of character whose definitions
of 'nice' and 'quiet' are above suspicion."
"It's quite possible," Sara said, "that my neighbor is not a drooling rapist
or slavering serial killer."
"It's equally possible that he is."
"Equally possible? No, I don't think so. There are only so many of those
in the city, after all. The odds—"
"You are so naive."
"Excuse me, I am the eldest here. Besides, Mir, I am the mystery writer,
not you. I know more about—"
"Were the mystery writer," Miriam reminded her.
"Ow. That hurt."
 "And writing whodunits about medieval Jews does not mean you know
anything about survival in the modern world. Far from it!" Miriam sighed.
"Reality has never been your strong suit."
Sara flinched as something shrieked behind her.
"What's that?" Miriam cried.
"His bird."
"Whose what?"
"My neighbor's bird." Sara pointed to the tall bird cage standing in the
shadowy corner of the balcony beyond her neighbor's own set of French
doors. It was on wheels, presumably so the owner could roll it outside on
sunny midsummer days like this and easily take it back inside at night.
Miriam crossed the balcony to look at it. "This cage is so big. And so
ornate."
Sara came to her side and stared into the cage with her. A little orange-
and-teal bird stared back at them.
"It's a small bird for such a big cage," Miriam said.
"Look at all those toys," Sara murmured.
"He spoils it," Miriam concluded.
"See? He's probably a nice, quiet guy, just like Lance said."
"I'm sure the Birdman of Alcatraz was nice and quiet, too, despite being
a depraved killer."
The bird suddenly pounced on a toy that looked like a miniature bird and
started pecking it with vicious intensity.
"Well," Sara said. "I think we've covered everything. I'm making a
terrible mistake with my life and my finances. I've chosen a dreadful
apartment. And my neighbor will murder me in my sleep, but only after he
rapes and mutilates me."
"If I've forgotten anything, I'll send you an e-mail." Miriam kept her
eyes on the violent bird for a few moments before finally saying, in a
different tone of voice, "I just worry about you."
"I know. That's why I put up with your shit." Sara sighed. "But I hope
you're done now, because Dad will be here any minute, and I can't deal with
the two of you ganging up on me. Moving day is bad enough without that."
"Okay, I'll stop," Miriam promised. "I won't stand up for you, but I'll
stay out of it when he starts in on you."
"Fair enough."
Sara supposed she could understand why her family was appalled by the
gamble she was taking now. It probably did look crazy to any sensible
person. Still, she had to do it. Her heart wouldn't let her do anything else.
The French doors swung open, nearly hitting them. Miriam grabbed her
arm, pulling her away from the flying door. Sara whirled around, startled
into momentary alarm—and found herself face to face with a man.
He looked even more surprised than she felt. He glanced from her to
Miriam, then relaxed a little. "You're the new tenant?"
"Oh!" Sara smiled. "I'm sorry. Yes. I'm Sara Diamond. I moved in today.
This is my sister, Miriam. You must be my neighbor?"
He smiled, too. Soft and slight, but a nice smile. Friendly. His blue eyes
were bright, warm. She liked his eyes.
He was not a serial killer.
"Ryan Kinsmore." He looked down at the load he carried: an armful of
bird supplies. "I'd shake with you, but my hands are a little full."
"We were gawking at your bird," Miriam confessed.
"She has emotional problems, doesn't she?" Sara said.
He sighed. "Is she beating up on that toy bird again?"
"Ah," Sara replied, "so it wasn't something I said?"
He smiled at her again, then peered into the birdcage and shook his
head. "I don't know why she does it. Does she think it's a guy bird, and she
hates men? Does it smell like some enemy species she thinks she has to
destroy? Does it look like her ex?"
"Actually," Miriam said, "I think it looks a little like my ex."
"No wonder he's an ex," Ryan murmured.
Sara reached for the bag of birdseed Ryan was holding and said, "Here,
let me help you out."
"Thanks."
 Miriam eyed his supplies. "Those look like welder's gloves."
"They are," Ryan replied.
Sara said, "You were planning on doing a little welding before dinner?"
"They're for cleaning Mrs. Thatcher's boudoir."
"Excuse me?"
He nodded towards the birdcage.
Sara snorted. "Mrs. Thatcher?"
"Her previous owner named her. An English guy who used to live in
your apartment."
"He left her behind?"
Ryan nodded. "He moved back home after I moved in here. Said it was
too hard to bring animals back to England. None of his friends here would
adopt Mrs. Thatcher—"
"Go figure."
"—and I was afraid she'd die if he just turned her loose."
"So you took her in."
"I can tell what you're thinking." He grinned at Sara. "Sucker."
"I didn't actually say that."
"I have to feed her and clean the cage." Ryan flexed his hands inside the
elbow-length padded gloves. "Believe me, this is something only a brave
man would attempt. You ladies might not want to watch. It could get ugly."
"No," Sara said, "we'll stay. There should be eyewitnesses."
"Well, don't say I didn't warn you."
He waited for the bird to turn her back to him, then opened the cage door
and shot his gloved arm inside. Mrs. Thatcher shrieked and attacked him.
After watching in astonished amusement for a moment, Sara glanced at
her sister. Very quietly, Miriam whispered, "Hubba hubba."
Sara nodded in agreement. About six feet tall, maybe a shade less, Ryan
had a long-limbed body with straight, square shoulders, a flat stomach, and
a tight butt. His pants and shirt, both good quality, were cut well enough to
show off everything without being vulgar. His thick, medium-short hair was
a little ruffled by the wind; it was a sun-seeking brown color, looking
almost as if it wanted to turn blond in a few places. He had a light tan, long-
lashed blue eyes, a nice nose, and a mouth that… Well, a guy with a mouth
like that had better be a great kisser or it was a criminal waste of lips.
He was obviously younger than Sara. And she didn't think he was from
San Francisco. There was a slight drawl in his vowels, a softness around
some of his consonants. It added to the melting-butter quality of his voice.
Drooling rapist? Hah! He'd probably been defending himself from
worshipful women since puberty.
He was talking to Mrs. Thatcher now, trying to soothe her as he
restocked her food and water and cleaned her cage, all the while wearing
those bulky welder's gloves. Immune to the seduction of his gentle
murmuring, the bird was clutching one of the gloves with both feet and
biting it like a mad dog.
"That is not a well animal, Ryan," Sara said.
"She's got some issues," he admitted, "but she just needs a patient touch.
Ouch!"
"You're working wonders with her, I can see that."
"Come on, sweetheart," he crooned. "Let go now. Let go of the glove."
Man, if this guy crooned to me, I'd do whatever he wanted.
Mrs. Thatcher, however, was made of sterner stuff than Sara. She
shrieked and redoubled her efforts to amputate one of Ryan's fingers.
"Shall we call 911?" Miriam asked.
Sara said, "It's too late for help."
"No, no," Ryan assured them through gritted teeth. "Everything's under
control."
"He did say it could get ugly," Miriam reminded Sara.
"Try shaking your arm," Sara advised Ryan. "Dislodge her."
"She's just a little bird. I could hurt her."
"I had no idea a four-ounce bird could be this menacing."
"Ow! Damn it, bird, give me back my hand!"
"So much for the sweet talk," Sara said.
 "Try distracting her," Ryan instructed Sara.
"Distracting her?"
"Yes. And since I think I'm bleeding now, could you move a little
faster?"
"Oh! Okay."
Sara approached the cage and put her hand on one of the bars. Mrs.
Thatcher immediately lost interest in maiming Ryan and leaped towards
Sara—who flinched and jumped back. Mrs. Thatcher shrieked at her. Ryan
removed his arm from the cage and slammed the door shut a split second
before Mrs. Thatcher could escape to kill them all. Then the bird returned to
shrieking at Sara.
She asked Ryan, "Why did you care that Mrs. Thatcher might die if you
didn't adopt her?"
"It just didn't sit well with me."
"What do you do when I'm not here to rescue you?"
"She's not usually this bad." He eyed Sara. "Your presence seems to
upset her. I don't think she likes you."
"Sure, blame me."
"Maybe she resents sharing the balcony with a prettier female."
Caught off guard by the flirtatious comment, Sara looked into the cage.
With no human victims to attack, Mrs. Thatcher returned to beating up her
toy bird.
"That isn't healthy," she said. "You should take that toy away from her."
"I gave it to her, I can't take it back. Anyhow, it makes her happy." He
winced as he flexed the hand Mrs. Thatcher had bitten.
"So you make her happy, and she makes you bleed."
"The universal story of men and women," he said.
"Not from where I'm standing."
He smiled. "Probably not from where she's standing, either."
Sara smiled back, and their eyes held—until a sudden pounding on
Ryan's front door surprised them both. Then Sara heard a gruff, halfhearted
bark.
 "You have a dog?" she asked.
"Yeah. Macy. He hardly ever barks, though. Excuse me." He brushed
past her and went through the French doors.
"Okay," Miriam said, "maybe this apartment wasn't such a terrible idea,
after all."
"So you've given up your theory that he's going to kill me in my sleep?"
"Maybe he'll be busy doing other things in your bed."
"Miriam!"
"What?"
"Don't be stupid."
"Stupid about what? Come on, you can't tell me you're not interested. I
know you, and you're interested."
"I'm also older than him."
"What, five years?" Miriam said.
"Maybe ten."
"Oh, so what? He's well above the age of consent, and he obviously likes
you, too."
"The point is—"
"Sara! Sara!" a man's voice shouted.
The sisters looked at each other.
"That's Dad."
"What's he doing bothering Ryan?"
They stuck their heads inside the living room just as Ryan was opening
his front door to their father.
"You're not my daughter," said Abel Diamond, applying the razor-sharp
perception that had made him a renowned scholar.
"That's true," Ryan agreed while the large, hairy, black dog at his side—
Macy, presumably—wagged its tail. "But Sara's right here."
"Dad!" Sara said, coming inside.
"There you are." Abel was breathing hard and looked flushed. "My
God… is that a dog… or a bear?"
 "I'll get you a glass of water, sir," Ryan offered and headed for the
kitchen.
"Thank you, young man." Abel collapsed into a burnished leather easy
chair and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. "Sara," he panted, "I don't
want you… to take this personally… but I am never… visiting you again."
The dog greeted Sara and Miriam, then investigated Abel for a moment.
Evidently deciding the old man wasn't that interesting upon closer
inspection, Macy lay down and gave an exhausted sigh.
"I'm sorry about the stairs, Dad."
"So am I," Abel wheezed, "because we've always been very close."
"But I have a big balcony and a good view."
"And I'm sixty-four years old… with arthritic knees."
"You probably came up the stairs too fast. You should pause to rest on
the landing halfway up."
Ryan returned. "Here's some water, Mr. Diamond."
"Thank you." Abel gulped down half the contents of the glass, then
closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the chair. "I'm not
even going to ask… why a handsome young man… whom I've never met…
knows his way around my daughter's kitchen."
"Uh, Dad—"
"No, no," Abel insisted. "I'm not asking. No need to explain. A father…
with two unmarried daughters… who aren't getting any younger…"
"Dad."
"… is only too happy… to find a polite young man in their company."
"You're probably hoping," Sara said to Ryan, "to meet all of my relatives
now."
Abel reminded her, "We haven't met. Introduce your father to your
friend."
"Dad, this is Ryan Kinsmore."
"Kinsmore? That's not a Jewish name."
Sara said, "I admire the way nothing slips by you."
"Pleased to meet you." Ryan shook Abel's hand. "More water?"
 "No, thank you, son."
"Dad, Ryan is my next door neighbor. This is his apartment."
"Oh! I thought you had unpacked awfully fast. And none of this looks
like your stuff."
"And the amazing thing," Miriam told Ryan, "is that Dad's a tenured
professor in the physics department at Berkeley."
Ryan wisely said nothing.
"I gave you the right apartment number," Sara said to her father.
"Across the hall." He nodded. "I knocked and knocked. The doorbell
doesn't seem to work."
"Gosh, what a surprise," Miriam said.
Sara gave her sister a quelling look. "I'll get it fixed."
"And no one answered," Abel said. "So I tried this door. Then I heard a
strange noise in here."
"Macy barked at you," Ryan explained.
"I'm sorry, Dad. We were out on the balcony. I didn't hear you."
"Thank God your neighbor isn't so cavalier. I thought I was going to
faint in the hall after climbing those stairs."
"But y—"
"I am not bringing Aunt Minnie to your housewarming party."
"Aunt Minnie walks two miles a day and is in much better shape than
you, old man."
"It's terrible," Abel said to Ryan, "how my children speak to me."
Sara started trying to haul him out of the chair.
"What are you doing?" he protested. "I like this chair!"
"Let's stop bothering Ryan and go into my apartment, Dad."
"We're not bothering Ryan. Are we bothering you, son?"
"Dad, he's got much better manners than you do, so it's not fair to ask
him a question like that."
"Do you hear how they speak to their father?"
 "Let's go, Dad," Miriam chimed in. "Don't you want to see Sara's
apartment?"
"Oh. Yes. All right," he conceded.
"So get up."
"Well, help me, then, help me!"
"I'm trying." Sara held his arm and heaved, then staggered backward as
he popped out of the chair like a cork.
"So, Ryan," Abel said, "after I see the apartment, we're going out to
dinner to celebrate Sara's descent in the world."
"Gee, thanks, Dad."
"Would you like to join us?" Abel invited.
"Thank you for asking, sir, but I've already got plans."
Sara noticed formal eveningwear lying over the arm of the couch, still
wrapped in plastic from the dry cleaners.
"Come on, Dad, let's motor. We're probably making Ryan late for
something."
"I like that chair," Abel confirmed. "It's a good chair." Ryan said, "You're
welcome to come sit in it any time, sir."
"You're a nice boy." Abel added to his daughters, "He's a nice boy."
Propelling her father to the door, Sara said, "Thank you, Ryan. Sorry
about this."
"No problem," he said. "It was nice to meet you all." He even sounded
sincere. A nice boy, indeed, Sara reflected.
 CHAPTER TWO

Sara sat alone in the dark and wept.

Oh, this is pathetic.
She blew her nose, stuffed the crumpled tissue into the pocket of her
bathrobe, and tried to pull herself together. Needing some air, some space,
something besides this dark living room full of boxes, she rose to her feet,
went to the French doors, and opened them. She stepped out onto the
balcony, then looked cautiously in the direction of Mrs. Thatcher's cage. It
was gone. Evidently Ryan had rolled the cage inside for the night. The
balcony was empty and quiet.
Sara gazed out over the neighborhood. A couple of lights shone like
beacons in the dark expanse of Glen Canyon Park. The streets were faintly
illuminated, but most of the homes and businesses were dark. Which made
sense. It was three o'clock in the morning.
Insomnia was a common curse among writers. Especially out-of-work
ones.
The cool night breeze ruffled Sara's shoulder-length hair, tangling the
dark, curly strands. She rested her folded arms on the balcony railing,
turned her tear-streaked face up to the night sky, and tried to count her
blessings.
I'm alone in a strange place. I'm unemployed at thirty-five. I'll be
penniless in a year.
And the career she had built was now all ashes.
So much for trying to find the silver lining.
 She started crying again.
Stress, she assured herself, it was just stress.
Moving was supposed to be one of the most stress-inducing things a
normal person did. The first night in a new home was always disorienting.
Given that she was also depressed about her career… Well, a few tears were
natural, perhaps even healthy.
Yeah, yeah, just give into it. Get really depressed. WALLOW. Go on. You
know you're dying to.
Sara caved in, lowered her head, and started crying in earnest, letting
herself sob as if someone had just died. If she was going to feel sorry for
herself, then, damn it, she was going to be thorough about it.
"Sara."
She shrieked and nearly leaped over the balcony rail.
"It's just me," Ryan said. "Easy, easy."
"Ryan!" She stared stupidly at him, sniveling and sobbing.
He came closer, but not too close, and he didn't try to touch her. "What's
wrong? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she choked out as tears streamed down her cheeks.
"Did something happen?" In the faint glow from the city lights, he
looked genuinely concerned.
"No!" She realized that sounded too vehement to be convincing. "No,
nothing happened."
My whole life fell apart, that's all.
Sara sobbed harder and turned away. Something poked her thigh. She
gasped and looked down to see Macy, big and black and hairy, panting
anxiously. He burped at her.
"Macy can't stand to see someone he likes crying," Ryan said.
"So I'll go inside."
"Sara…"
"I'm really embarrassed," she blubbered. "It's nothing."
"No," he said, "I'm pretty sure it's not nothing."
 "I'm sorry. I'm bothering you," she whimpered. "I'll go inside now."
"Shhh." Now he touched her shoulder. "Maybe you shouldn't be alone."
She just stood there crying. Macy whined.
Shit.
"Come on," Ryan said after a moment, gently trying to tug her away
from the balcony railing.
She sputtered with mingled amusement and tears. "I wasn't going to
jump."
"I know." He smiled slightly. "I mean, why don't you sit down?"
"Oh."
Sara let him lead her over to the two wooden chairs set up between their
respective balcony doors. She sat down and mumbled, "It's so late. What
are you doing up? Oh, no! Did I wake you?"
"Yeah, I always sleep dressed like this, Sara."
She heard the dryness in his tone and looked up at him. That was when
she noticed he was wearing a tuxedo. "You just got in?" she guessed.
"Uh-huh."
"Oh, your thing."
"My thing?"
"Your…" She eyed the tux, which fit him beautifully. "Concert
appearance? Gala embassy reception? Magic act?"
He snorted. "Nah, just a thing. Bland food, warm drinks, boring
speeches."
She nodded and sniffed. "Been there, done that. Bought the T-shirt, read
the book… Wrote the book." She started crying harder again.
He put his hand over hers for a moment. "Stay here. I'll be right back.
Okay?"
She nodded, because as embarrassed as she felt, a little undemanding
company seemed more appealing than the strange bedroom full of boxes
that awaited her when she went inside. She hadn't even been able to find the
box with her linens, so she'd have to sleep rolled up in an old army blanket
tonight. That seemed so sad she quivered with another hard sob. Macy
approached her and panted on her knees.
"Macy," Ryan said, returning to the balcony, "move. Come on."
There was a slight scuffle of shoes and paws, then a box of tissues
appeared in front of Sara.
"Thanks," she sobbed, yanking on several tissues in a row and then
holding them up to her wet, puffy, grimacing face.
"I'm putting the box right next to you," Ryan said. "On the table here."
She nodded, eyes closed, and sat with the tissues pressed to her face.
Then the chair creaked under Ryan's weight as he rested his butt on its arm.
Sara suddenly felt his body next to her, warm and solid. She shifted
nervously when he put his hand on her back.
"It's okay," he said, his voice like melting butter. "Sometimes a good cry
is what it takes." That slight drawl in his voice made him sound so soothing.
So Sara wept. Just cried like a kid whose favorite toy had been broken.
The hand on her back stroked her, sure and gentle, an undemanding human
contact silently telling her that her tears were all right. Needy and
shameless, she shifted and leaned against him. He slid his arm around her
and squeezed, settling his weight comfortably against her, then continued
those slow, sympathetic caresses along her back and shoulder.
She didn't know how long she cried like that. She was tired when she
was done, and light-headed. She sighed and, realizing she'd have to do it
eventually, she pulled herself away from Ryan's comforting embrace.
Avoiding his eyes, she turned and reached for more tissues, keeping her
face averted as she blew her nose. Noisily. Several times.
He rose from the chair. Who could blame him?
Then he picked up something else on the side table and handed it to her.
"Here. Drink this."
She accepted a glass from him. The strong smell made her shudder.
"What is it?"
"Scotch."
"Oh, good. I'm not nearly maudlin enough yet." She took a bold swig—
and suddenly felt as if her esophagus was melting.
 Another Random Document on
Scribd Without Any Related Topics
the shop windows, which seem mostly to be filled with those
brilliantly coloured tins of foreign preserved meats and provisions
which our ancestors, happily for themselves, never knew. The
countryman takes his pleasures more sadly than of yore. His rough
old amusements and sports are gone; about the only excitement
which penetrates into rural life being furnished by some realistically
dished-up tragedy or cause célèbre imbibed through the medium of
a halfpenny paper.
The folklore of East Anglia has been very thoroughly recorded in
various publications, amongst them the East Anglian Magazine,
which for some time was edited by the late Miss Mary Henniker, who
for so many years lived in the little house in Berkeley Street, familiar
to a large circle as the residence of her universally popular younger
sister. Her death, which occurred but a few months ago, was the
cause of much sincere and genuine regret to all her friends. Miss
Helen Henniker, though in latter years labouring under considerable
physical disability, ever retained an extraordinary amount of good-
natured vitality. She was, indeed, one of those people whom it is
difficult to realise as being dead. Bright, vivacious, and good-natured
to a quite unusual degree, “Helen,” as she was affectionately called,
possessed a most comprehensive knowledge of all the different
types which make up that motley crowd known as London society.
She was welcome everywhere, and the disappearance of this kindly
and original personality called forth many a sincere expression of
real grief.
conclusion

Within the last few years death has robbed me of many valued
friends, some, like that most kindly of men, Lord Haliburton, dying
after severe illness, and others, like my dear cousin Sir Spencer
Walpole, suddenly struck down in the apparent fulness of health and
strength. Sir Spencer, who attained a position of some eminence as
a painstaking and accurate writer of contemporary history, was by
nature a man of most judicial and well-balanced mind, and was an
almost unique instance, as he himself would admit, of what I may
call a serious Walpole, for the majority of my family, since the days
of Sir Robert, have never been conspicuous for any particular mental
stability. Mayhap some of the southern blood of old Pierre Lombard,
a native of Nîmes, whose daughter was our ancestress, is the cause
of this. Sir Spencer himself used to say that this erratic and
impulsive temperament had in his case been modified by the
marriage of his great-grandfather to a lady of Dutch nationality, and
his even temper and calm mental outlook would certainly seem to
have justified such a supposition.
Erratic, and sometimes lacking balance to the verge of
eccentricity, the Walpoles were ever a somewhat curious race, their
chief characteristic, perhaps, being an intense love of frivolity
combined with a real liking for literature and art. For music, however,
few of us have cared at all, whilst most have positively hated its
more serious side. As a rule, too indolent to grasp the political
laurels which their intellects were in several cases easily capable of
winning, and not by nature fitted for a public career, the Walpoles
have now for many generations scarcely attempted to emerge from
the humdrum backwaters of private life, the founder of our fortunes,
Sir Robert, remaining the first and last great politician which the
family has produced. Nevertheless, there is a compensation in that
very nature which has rendered serious effort so unattractive to us,
for with something of the child’s dislike of order and restraint, we
have also the counterbalancing advantage of the child’s buoyancy of
disposition and easy forgetfulness of trouble, retained in some cases
to an age when others of more serious temperament have long
ceased to take an interest in anything at all. And now, with these
somewhat egotistical reflections, I will take leave of my readers, only
hoping that their patience will not have been overtaxed by the
perusal of these Notes, Memories, and Recollections.

APPENDIX
SOME SECRET NEGOTIATIONS OF THE PRETENDER
WITH SIR ROBERT WALPOLE
Some little time ago my nephew, Lord Orford, discovered in his
library at Wolterton some rather interesting old papers dealing with
certain negotiations which appear to have at one time been afoot
between the Pretender and Sir Robert Walpole. It is said that a
picture formerly existed at Houghton in which both Sir Robert (as a
youth) and his father were shown wearing the Stuart tartan, but
notwithstanding this my ancestor has always been regarded as an
uncompromising upholder of the Hanoverian succession.
Nevertheless, it would appear from the correspondence which he
discovered that at one time Sir Robert was not altogether disinclined
to learn the Pretender’s proposals, though of course he may have
only done this from diplomatic reasons. The principal portion of the
documents in question consists of a memorandum drawn up by a
certain Mr. Thomas Carte, whose name is well known to historical
students. A non-juring clergyman, he had strong Jacobite leanings,
and is known to have been much interested in the Stuart cause. My
nephew’s father, Mr. Frederick Walpole, appears to have made some
inquiries about him of his friend Mr. Whitwell Elwin, the well-known
editor of the Quarterly Review, for the following letter was found
appended to the correspondence:—

Booton Rectory, Norwich,

March 18, 1865.
Dear Mr. Walpole—I have been an age in answering your
letter owing to my reading the name of Thomas Carte as
Thomas Lart. I could not remember that I had ever heard
of the name of the latter gentleman, and I searched books
and indexes in vain in order to discover what my memory
would not supply. Five minutes ago I took up your note,
and again scrutinised the word, when all of a sudden it
flashed upon me that the name was Carte, though your C is
very indistinct. You will find an account of him in any
English Biographical Dictionary. If you want any details
 beyond what an ordinary book of reference will supply you
must come to me again. Andrew Stone was sub-preceptor
to George 3. when Prince of Wales. There are stories of him
in Horace Walpole, Mahon’s History, and other books. He
was chiefly noted, I think, for his supposed Jacobite bias in
early days. You must not assume that I shall be always as
dilatory in answering questions. I should have written at
once if I could have solved your problem.
Two or three months, I presume, will bring an election
which will carry you into Parliament, and long may you
flourish there. I do not hear a word of East Norfolk. If
Stracey is goose enough to stand it will only end in a fall.
He will have no support worth the name. I was delighted to
hear that you and Lord O. were one again.—Believe me,
ever sincerely yours,
W. Elwin.

At the beginning of the memorandum is the following note in Sir

Robert Walpole’s handwriting:—

This Paper was delivered to me, the 15th of Sept. 1739,

at nine o’clock at night at my house at Chelsea,[2] by Mr.
Tho. Cart, a non-jurying Clergyman, as a Copy of Heads,
etc., drawn up by Him, by order of the Pretender, as
explanatory of some conferences held by Him at Rome
upon the subject of the security of the Church of England
and delivered to the Pretender by Him in July last.
R. Walpole.

The memorandum itself, which is somewhat lengthy, appears to

have been drawn up with a view to satisfying Sir Robert that in the
event of the Pretender being placed upon the throne of England no
attempt would be made to interfere with the privileges of the
Protestant Church. It begins:—

Heads Offered to Consideration in Relation to the Security

 and Advantage of the Church of England
When in the year 1721 I looked over Archbp. Sancroft’s
manuscripts and papers, I found among them one
containing a scheme for the government of the Church of
England under a R.C. Prince; which I thought exceeding
well drawn, as well for preserving a just prerogative in the
Crown, as for providing a reasonable security for the
Church. It appeared to me to be drawn at the time of the
Bill of Exclusion, when the late K. Charles offered to come
into any scheme of that nature, though he was resolved
never to passe that Bill, as conceiving it to be contrary to
honour, justice and conscience. I laid that scheme aside,
with some curious discourses of the Archbps. and
abundance of valuable letters which I selected in order to
write his life. But being to passe into Leicestershire and
spend 3 or four months before I got to London, I left them
at Fresingfield, intending to send for them to town, as soon
as I got thither. But being forced to come abroad not long
after in 1722, they still remained at Fresingfield, and were
swept away by Dr. Tanner, then Chancellor of Norwich, with
the rest of the ArchBps. manuscripts, which he bought in
the beginning of 1728, about a quarter of a year before I
returned to England. Dr. Tanner dying about 3 years ago
and leaving all his MSS. to the University of Oxford, I made
two journeys thither last year to search for this scheme:
but though I looked over every individual paper of his that
had been delivered to the University, I could not find what I
searched for. This makes me conclude that the Drs.
Executors did not deliver to the University all the MSS. that
were bequeathed them; and the rather because I did not
observe among them half even of the most curious MSS. of
the ArchBps. which I had taken a short catalogue of for my
own use.
In defect of this scheme, I venture to draw up my own
thoughts on the subject, and to mention some particulars
which I conceive may be either for the security or for the
advantage of the Church of England.
First, that which I imagine would be a very good and
perhaps a better security to it than any other privilege, is
the restoring to the Clergy their ancient right of taxing
themselves; a right enjoyed by the Clergy in all parts of
Europe, and never enjoyed by the English till 3 years after
King Charles the Second’s restoration; when the
Convocation then sitting gave it up by a Solemn Act,
without ever consulting their Constituents, reserving,
however, to themselves by an express clause a power to
resume it whenever they should think fitting. It would be
against all law, justice, and equity to deny them such a
resumption whenever they demand it; which they are now
universally desirous of doing, having seen the Sitting of
Convocations interrupted, and that representative Body and
chief judicature of the Church rendered useless, almost
ever since they gave up this right. The House of Commons,
fond of allocations of extending their power, and grasping
at everything that will aggrandize themselves, may not
perhaps care to part with this new branch of their power;
but it is not the interest of the Crown that the Commons
should grow too great, and the experience of 1641 ought
for ever to make a Prince, and indeed all orders of men,
jealous of every accession of power which accrews to that
Body: and if ever they are to be prevailed with to part with
this additional branch thereof, it is most likely to be done on
the account here mentioned, viz. for the security of religion.
For by the constant and regular sitting of the Convocation
concurrent with every Parliament (which will be fully
provided for by restoring to the Clergy this right of taxing
themselves), it will be scarce possible for any material steps
to be taken for the introducing of another religion, when
there is a body of men sitting and on the watch against all
measures of that kind, and ready to oppose them by their
weighty and prudent remonstrances. There is no method so
proper for redressing grievances as by returning to the old
ways of our Constitution; all deviations from which have
ever been found of mischievous consequence. The
inconveniences of new institutions are seldom thought of till
they are felt; but we have the experience of ages to shew
us the wisdom and advantages of ancient usages: and as
no inconvenience ever yet attended this right of taxation
during the many hundreds of years that the Clergy enjoyed
it, it cannot with the least pretence to reason be surmised
that any should now attend the restoring it to them. I knew
not whether I need observe that the only reason why the
Convocations grants of subsidies were inserted in Acts of
Parliament was that the Collectors thereof might have a
power of distraining on the glebe and goods of the Clergy;
which could not be given by any Ecclesiastical authority.
2. Another thing that would contribute greatly to the
security of the Church, and be as much for its benefit, is a
repeal of the Act of Submission passed in the time of Henry
8, which hinders ArchBps. and Bps. from holding provincial
and diocesan synods, to which they were obliged by the old
canons of the Church, but are deterred from doing so by
the dread of a Praemunire, which in such case they would
incur according to the terms of that Act. The right of
holding such synods in provinces and dioceses, for the due
ordering of Ecclesiastical affairs and the better execution of
the Canons, is as ancient as the institution of Christianity,
and is enjoyed in all Christian countries upon earth, except
in England. For the Act of Submission having never taken
place in Ireland (where as there had been no exercise of
the Legative power, so there had been no obedience paid to
it, and consequently no penalties thereby incurred), the
Clergy in that Island still enjoy the right of meeting in
provincial and diocesan synods. ArchBp. King of Dublin
lately held one of the first sort, and the Acts of one of the
latter kind held by Bedell, Bp. of Kidmore, are published in
the life of that prelate: which are sufficient evidences of this
right of the Church of Ireland. It was in this manner that
the Primitive Church was governed, and it is fit that every
National Church in times posteriour to their should be
governed in the same manner; as that of England indeed
ever was till the Act of Submission. These Synods will be a
great security to the Church of England in the intervals of
Parliaments and Convocations.
They will be likewise of great use in other respects, and
contribute much to the ends of religion. They may restore
the just discipline of the Church, and correct abundance of
grievances, as well as in regard of the scandalous
corruption of the spiritual Courts, as of the shameful
oppression of the Clergy by some Bps. in many cases.
Bishops in France and other countries abroad, tho’ obliged
by the Canons to hold diocesan Synods every year, are yet
not very fond of holding them, because they are a curb
upon their authority. For tho’ they can put a negative upon
the resolutions of the majority, yet being often ashamed of
dissenting from truth and reason, the Presbyters or
incumbents of livings are still found to have the greatest
weight in such Synods. And possibly for the same reason
they may be as little agreeable to our English Bishops, who
having in a manner quite lost the power of exercising any
part of their authority over the Laity, endeavour continually
to make themselves amends by lording it over other Clergy;
insisting (as their Archdeacons also, after their example and
in virtue of their delegated authority, have done) upon the
oath of canonical obedience, which they pretend obliges
the Clergy to obey them in everything whatever that they
enjoin which is not absolutely unlawfull; an interpretation of
that oath contrary to the sense of all Canonists abroad,
who agree that it only obliges to obedience in such things
as are prescribed by the Canons. But the fonder they are of
power, the more necessary is it that their power should be
restrained to the ancient bounds, and that institutions of
such great use as Diocesan and Provincial Synods should be
restored.
It was in such provincial Synods, that all disputes about
matters of faith were determined and heresies condemned
during the 3 first centuries of Christianity. It is in these that
the authority and jurisdiction of the Church has in all ages
been chiefly and most usefully exerted. ’Tis a hardship
peculiar to the Church of England to be deprived of a
benefit which all other Churches upon earth enjoy, and
therefore it is much to be wished this right of holding
provincial Synods were restored. There would then be no
want of visible judge of doctrine and controversies, such as
served to direct the primitive Christians and martyrs in the
first ages of the Gospel in the way of salvation. There
would not then be any want either of a ready antidote
against any heretical or irreligious books that are published
nowadays with encouragement rather than impunity, or of
power to censure them and punch the authors thereof if
they should prove to be Clergymen. There would not then,
if any Bp. or other Ecclesiastick should preach and maintain
any heretical tenets or assert any of the new erroneous
doctrines which the Court or Church of Rome have grafted
upon the ancient faith of the Church, or be guilty of any
other crime the Canons have decreed to be punished with
deprivation, be any want of canonical authority to take
cognisance of the cause, and pronounce sentence in a
regular manner. For it is in these provincial Synods that
Bishops have in all ages of the Church been ever judged
and deprived in such cases: and if the same method had
been established in England in Q. Mary’s time, the church
would not then have been ruined. For none of the Edwards
Bps. were deprived canonically by a Synod of their
comprovincial Bps., but by a few persons, some of them
Laicks, empowered by a particular commission from Her
Majesty. The High Commission Court has indeed been since
put down by an Act of Parliament, which provides that
neither that Court nor any like it shall ever be erected for
the future. But lawyers may possible dispute whether that
Act extends to such particular commission as Q. Mary
issued (which perhaps were not thought of in 1690 when
this Act passed); so that it is highly to be wished that
Provincial Synods might be restored, and the offences of
Bps. and Clergymen inferring deprivation, subject to their
cognisance.
Diocesan Synods never intermeddled in matters of faith.
Their business was confined to points of mere discipline,
and their chief care was to make proper regulations for
inforcing the practise of that discipline, and to provide for
the due observance of the Canons within their district.
Offences against these were also within their cognisance,
and whatever else was under the jurisdiction of the Bp. in
his single capacity, came also before him when at the head
of these Synods; which may be composed either of all
incumbents in his Diocese, or of the Chapter of the
Cathedral, the Archdeacons, Rural Deans, and two Proctors
chosen by the Clergy of each Deanery. And if in the interval
of these Synods a Bp. was obliged to consult with the
Chapter of his Church, and the Rural Deans of his Diocese
before he gave judgment in any cause, and to use them as
his co-assessors in hearing it, this would add much to the
dignity and effect of such sentence, and would probably
reconcile abundance to Episcopary, that are at present
disaffected to that kind of government.
There was in the last Sitting Convocation in 1713/4 a
proposal made and an intention formed of reviving the
institution of Rural Deans, and it would probably have taken
place in the next, had there not happened a change of
government which has ever since put an end to the Sitting
of Convocations. But were that old institution revived, and
such a method of episcopal and synodical jurisdiction
settled, it might easily be so adjusted, as to reform
abundance of shameful practices in the spiritual Courts to
prevent any false doctrines either heretical or Roman from
being instilled into the people. For whilst there is so short
and easy a method of calling those who reach them to an
accompt before their brethren of the Clergy in their own
neighbourhood, scarce anybody will dare to attempt such
an innocation, when he must expect a censure to be
immediately passed upon him by his Bp. not alone, but
assisted by a venerable Council of Rural Deans
recommended for their merit by the body of the Clergy, and
antecedent to his crime approved of and constituted by
their Diocesan.
There was at the same time another proposal made of
reviving also the charge of Suffragan Bps. as anciently used
in the Church of England, or as at last regulated in the
reign of Henry, and continued to that of Q. Elizabeth. And
as some Dioceses in England are too large, they might be
very useful for the due exercise of discipline, as well as for
reforming the corruptions and lessening the power of
Spiritual Courts.
It might be observed that the corruption of those Courts
is not owing to the Bishops. Some of these have
endeavoured to reform them, but in vain, they have put
limiting clauses into the patents, and they have granted to
Vicars general, Chancellors and Commissiaries, but still to
no purpose, even with regard to the granting of licenses to
preach, which being, by the Rubrick of the Common Prayer
book established by Act of Parliament, reserved expressly
to Bps. they naturally thought they might very well restrain
their deputies from granting them. But these deputies,
distinguished by the several titles before mentioned,
pretend that a Bp. having constituted them Vicars general,
Chancellors or Commissiaries by patent, they are in virtue
thereof actually invested with all the power usually annexed
to such office, and that all restraining clauses are null by
common Law: and so they continue to exercise a power in
those cases wherein by the express terms of the patent
they are debarred the exercise thereof. Our Common Law is
in truth but too favourable to such iniquities, and it is highly
reasonable that an Act should pass to restrain the power of
these officers to the terms of their patent; or perhaps it
may not be amiss to provide that such offices should be
held only for the life or incumbency of the person that
grants them; or if allowed to be granted to persons
quamdice bene se gesserint, certain cases may be specified
wherein these officers shall be removable by the judgment
of the Bp. in conjunction with the Chapter and Rural Deans
of the Diocese, from whose sentence there should lye no
appeal to Common Law.
The Courts of Common Law, however they have
intrenches on the jurisdiction of the Spiritual Courts, do yet
give countenance and protection to all their iniquities,
which serve to bring them in business; and this makes the
Common Lawyers so loath to see them reformed, and so
ready to baffle all attempts of that nature. The judges
thereof have stuck to no maxim so constantly as to that
scandalous one of St. Edw. Cokes, A Boni judicies est
ampliare jurisdictionem curice suce, and have by monstrous
fictions, and by the help of numberless querks and
pretences swallowed up in a manner all the jurisdiction of
other Courts, as the Lord Constable and Marshals,
Admiralty, etc. in order to draw all business to themselves.
Thus also as often as they please they call by prohibitions
(for which they never want pretences) all causes before
them from Spiritual Courts and other Ecclesiastical or
Visitatorical jurisdictions: and when a cause is once brought
into their Courts, where they can invent and start an
hundred points and issues to be argued, there is no end of
the expense or no hopes of a decision, so that it must drop
at last after several years continuance without any
determination as the late affair of Dr. Bentley. It is very fit
there should be prohibitions in many cases, as there are
appels d’abus in France; but it is as fair that those cases
should be settled fixed and determinate. There was in the
time of K. James I. a judgment given upon this subject by
the King in his Privy Council (to whose judicature it properly
belongs to decide of the just authority of different Courts
when they quarrel about their jurisdiction) and proper
bounds were fixed to the authority, as well of Spiritual
Courts as of those of Common Law, which were tolerably
well observed till the troubles of 1641 threw all government
into confusion, and Episcopacy being destroyed and the
jurisdiction of Bps. suppressed with their Order, the
Common Law carried all before it, swallowed up the
Ecclesiastical authority, and has ever since kept a great part
of what it then invaded.
This is now grown to so intolerable an height, that at
present there is not any Ecclesiastical authority in England
to call a Clergyman to an accompt, and punish him for
preaching or printing any heretical doctrine or any
erroneous tenets of the Court of Rome: so that unless the
Common Law be restrained in this respect, and the use and
authority of provincial and diocesan Synods be revived, I do
not see how it can be practicable to secure the Church of
England from being overrun with false doctrines. For unless
there be a short and easy way of punishing those that vent
them, many will be induced to do so, when temptations
shall be offered and encouragements given for the attempt:
and this power can be vested nowhere so properly, so
safely and so unexceptionally as in provincial and diocesan
Synods, agreeable to the constitution of the Primitive
Church.
If it be apprehended that these Synods may be apt to
assume too great a power (not to say that such an
apprehension is groundless) it is a very easy matter to
prevent their doing so by restraining their jurisdiction to the
crimes of heresy, false doctrine and Simony and to the
persons of the Clergy, leaving all Laicks who are guilty of
the like offences to the cognisance of the Civil Courts.
 3. Another method for the security of religion is, to
distinguish between Legatine, and the Archiepiscopal power
of the ArchBp. of Canterbury, and to reduce that exorbitant
power he possesses at present to what it was before the
year 1400, when he enjoyed only his Archiepiscopal
authority, not being made legaties natus till after that year.
These two powers are compounded at present, and the
ArchBp., though he enjoys the legatine, only in virtue of the
exercise thereof by his predecessors, derived originally from
a Papal grant of no force in England, does yet continue to
exercise it, tho’ he hereby encroaches upon the jurisdiction
and rights of all the Bishops and the Kingdom in several
cases, and by the abuse thereof may ruin the established
church when he pleases. It was in virtue of this Legatine
power, which is as yet affirmed by no law, that Dr. Tennison
deprived Watson Bp. of St. Davids by his single authority;
tho’ according to the ancient Canons and constitution of the
Christian Church, no Bp. can be regularly condemned, but
by the sentence of a Provincial Synod, in which twelve Bps.
are present. ’Tis easy to see how fatal such a claim of
power, now supported by the seeming countenance of an
House of Lords, may be in its consequence to the Church of
England.
There was in the time of Henry 8 (when the Papal
power was abolished in England) an authority vested in the
ArchBp. of Canterbury to grant faculties and dispensations
in all cases where the Pope used before to dispense. Under
pretext of this general grant Archbishops have taken upon
themselves to grant dispensations in cases where the Pope
himself could not effectually dispense. Such particularly is
the power of qualifying persons for living and dignities
annexed by Law to certain degrees in our Universities. The
Pope had certainly long used to confer honorary degrees on
such as he saw fit, but these degrees never qualified
persons in France or other countries abroad for benefices
and dignities appropriated to Graduates in their
Universities. This is so settled a point that even in the
Pope’s own territory of the Comtat de Venagsein about
Avignon, tho’ he confess such benefices on those who are
not graduates, yet he always in his bulls obliges them to
take their degree requisite in the Universities. Yet in
England ArchBps. of Canterbury have of late exerted their
power in numberless instances to the great discouragement
of learning and prejudice of our Universities. This is a point
that well deserves to be corrected.
4. As the Universities are a nursery for the Church, and
a great support of the established religion, there cannot be
too great an assurance given of the preservation of their
privileges, their statutes and rights of election; which
should not be liable to be invaded, by any Ecclesiastical
Commission for the extraordinary visitation of particular
Colleges or of the Universities in general, or by writs of
Mandamus for putting in Heads or Fellows of Colleges,
contrary to their Statutes and right of election; or in fine, by
appeals from the sentence of Visitors to the Courts of
Common Law, where they have been controverted of late;
particularly in Dr. Bentley’s case; tho’ such sentences were
ever deemed unappealable and have been so declared in
the House of Lords in the case of Exeter College, wherein
they gave judgment against their own jurisdiction in this
point.
But if it should be apprehended that an unlimited
restraint from all relief at Common Law, may in some eases
be hard on a sufferer by a Visitor’s sentence, the absolute
prohibition of an appeal may be thus limited, “unless the
body of the University assembled in a Convocation
(whereof, and as well of the occasion of its being called as
the day and time when it is to be held, publick notice shall
be given a month before) shall within a year or 6 months
after such sentence petition the King for a revision thereof;
and then his Majesty may issue out a Commission of
Delegates, composed of the Chancellor of the University,
the Visitors of all the Colleges therein, and an equal
number of Drs. of Civil Law, to review the process and give
a final decision.” If University causes come into Common
Law Courts, there is no end of them, and no supporting the
expense: and our ancestors wisely provided they should
never come there: but those Courts are hardly ever at a
loss for pretexts to draw all causes to the Bar, and to break
through all regulations. Their power is now grown to an
exorbitant height, and with it their oppression is extended;
so that since the Chancery, by being put almost ever since
the Reformation into the hands of Common Lawyers, is
become in a manner a Common Law Court where equity is
little considered, they are become one of the greatest
grievances of the Nation.
5. Whereas Deans and Chapters of Cathedral Churches
in England do at present retain an empty shadow of the
privilege they formerly had of choosing their own Bps. in
that a Conge d’Elire is constantly upon the vacancy of a
see, sent to them and requiring them to proceed to such
election; but they are obliged to choose the person named
to them by the King in a letter missive sent at the same
time, under the pain of incurring a Praemunire and
subjecting themselves to the penalties of the Act of Henry 8
regulating the election and confirmation of Bishops. It were
to be wished that a better regulation might be made in this
respect, and that Deans and Chapters may, in the case of a
person whom they cannot in conscience contribute by any
act of theirs to advance to a See of which he is unworthy
(by having preached or published heretical and false
doctrines, or by being guilty of Simony or other crimes
punishable by deprivation), be allowed the liberty of
declining their choice and approbation without being liable
to the said penalties. It may not perhaps be fit to make
them judges in the case any further than relates to their
own conduct, and therefore upon their signifying the crime
of which the person named in the letter missive is accused
and on account whereof they cannot choose him, and of
the grounds they have to presume of his guilt, till he is
judicially cleared, the cognisance thereof may in the case of
a Bp. be taken by a Provincial Synod, and in the case of a
Presbyter, by a Synod of the Diocese, wherein he has
usually resided; and if the person be acquitted therein, the
Chapter then to be obliged to choose him under all the
penalties of the aforesaid Act, but, if he be condemned, to
be justified in their rejecting him, and a better to be named
in his stead.
There are some other regulations of a like kind, that
would be useful with regard to the inferior Clergy, viz.: that
every Certificate of good behaviour and right principles in
religion, usually brought to a Bp. by every person that
comes for Ordination or for Institution to a Living, be
signed by the Rural Dean of the district wherein he has
resided for the time mentioned therein; (unless such person
hath been constantly resident in the University, in which
case the Certificate of his College may serve as at present)
otherwise the Bp. to be at liberty to reject him. And if a Bp.
upon examining a person presented to a benefice shall find
him illiterate and unqualified for the Cure, he shall appoint
such person to attend him another day, when he shall
likewise summon the Rural Deans of his Diocese to appear
and shall in their presence examine the pretentee; and if
upon the concurrent judgment of all or of the major part,
or of two thirds of them, he shall be declared illiterate and
insufficent for the charge of a cure of Souls, the Bp. shall
be justified in refusing him institution without being aliable
to any suit in law, or other prosecution whatever.
Such expedients as these afford undoubtedly a very
rational security to the Church of England, and yet none of
them really intrench on the just prerogative of the Crown,
unless the redeeming of the Church from the slavist part of
the Letter missive put upon it contrary to the first article of
Magna Charta be deemed to do so, tho’ it does not infringe
the Kings right of naming the Sees but only provides
against the ill consequences of his being deceived and
drawing into the naming of unworthy prelates; or unless it
be in the waving of the claim of right to make writs of
Mandamus for putting Heads and Fellows upon Colleges in
the University; which if it was a right of the Crown, has
been exercised very rarely and never without great odium,
and which seems only to be founded upon a notion, that
the incorporation of Colleges and establishment of Status
for electing the Heads and members thereof, as well as for
regulating their conduct, tho’ made at the request of the
Founders who endowed them, yet derived their force from
the authority of the Crown, which might therefore dispense
with Statuts of their own creating and rights of their own
granting, whenever there was occasion or it was thought
proper to exert the unlimitedness of the prerogative. But if
this maxim were good and would hold in Law, it would hold
as well in regard to Corporations as Colleges; and yet it was
never used in the ease of the former, unless upon some
crime and forfeiture of their privileges, or at least on a
pretence thereof, and even then when advantage was
taken of such forfeiture (as was the case a little before the
Revolution) it raised a terrible ferment in the nation.
There are some other things which tho’ not immediately
relating to the security of the Church of England, yet being
much for the benefit, dignity, and credit of the Clergy, will
contribute not a little to its support.
The English being naturally a serious and devout people
ran eagerly in all ages into all the modes of religion then in
vogue. Hence an infinite number of Monasteries of all kinds
were erected in the Kingdom, and the Religious thereof
being by their institution more attached to the Pope than
the secular Clergy were, it came to pass that when the
Papal power was first introduced into England in the reign
of Henry the First (in whose time the Cardinal de Crema
came over the first Legate of the See of Rome, and appeals
to that Court began to be introduced), they soon got the
Pope to exert the plentitude of his power, and the
sovereignty he claimed over all the possessions of the
Spirituality (tho’ originally the grant of our Kings) and to
appropriate the tythes glebe and revenues of livings to
Monasteries. This was done generally between the years
1120 and 1250. Hereupon the Religious of these
Monasteries, keeping all the great tythes and sometimes
the small ones also, and even the oblations (which in those
days were very considerable) to themselves either supplied
the cures by one of their own body, or endowed a resident
vicar either with a slender portion of the small tythes, or
with a stipend in money, which, whatever it was in those
days, is now very inconsiderable, and insufficient for his
maintenance. When Monasteries were dissolved, and their
lands given to Henry 8, the tythes and revenues of Livings
thus appropriated to religious houses were given to him at
the same time, and were alienated by that Prince together
with the Abbey lands. Thus was the Church miserably
impoverished, and even to the time of the Rebellion in 1642
there were left 6000 Vicarages in England under £30 a year,
4000 under £20 and 2000 not worth £10 a year. The
Bishops upon the Restoration having abundance of leases,
particularly of Tythes (for Q. Elizabeth had forced their
predecessors to exchange their manners of their Sees for
the tythes then remaining in the Crown which she could not
keep in conscience as she alledged) that were either
expired during the troubles or were near expiring, took care
in the renewal thereof to augment great numbers of these
poor vicarages. Private persons have since made them
considerable benefactions and many Vicarages have been
of late augmented out of the revenue of the First fruits and
Tenths: yet still there are some thousands so meanly
provided for that they do not afford a competent
subsistence to a Minister.
 Of all Livings throughout the Kingdom none suffered so
much in the general alienation of Church revenues as those
in Cities and great Towns; for scarce any of these were
without one or more Monasteries, the Monks whereof
supplying the cure of those Livings, had only a small
stipend for their pains. Hence these Livings are the most
provided for of any in England, two or three of them being
often united together to make up about £30 a year for an
Incumbent, whose poverty neither allows him to buy books
to increase his stock of learning, nor to live with a dignity
suitable to his character, not to do that good or speak with
that authority in his parish which a better income would
enable him to do, and generally speaking worthless Livings
will be filled with worthless Clergymen. This hath proved as
much to the disservice of the Crown as of the Church. For
these great Towns being sorrily supplied with Ministers, and
being many of them thronged with Calvinists that came out
of the Low countries, Germany and other foreign countries
and settled there for the sake of trade, the Puritan party in
the reigns of K. James and K. Charles took care to send
Lecturers thither (to whom they gave large stipends) to
propagate Sedition and disaffection to the Church and
Crown among the inhabitants of those great Towns, which
by that means generally sided with the Parliament against
the King in the rebellion of 1641, and by their wealth
contributed greatly to the neine of His Majesties affairs.
Had these Towns been duly supplied with a learned and
well affected Clergy, the rebellion would probably have
been prevented or the event of the war have proved more
favourable to the royal cause. There are few things would
be more serviceable to the interests both of the Church and
Crown than a proper endowment of the Livings in such
great Towns and Cities: and if any forfeited houses therein,
or forfeited lands and tythes of lands adjoining thereto
were applied thereto, the benefit to both would be great,
and the Clergy in such Cities would by their interests as
well as principle be obliged to support the Crown from
which they desire such benefactions.
K. Charles the First gave all the Tythes remaining in his
time to the Crown throughout Ireland to the Churches
whereunto they originally belonged, as often as Leases of
Crown lands were to be renewed or grants thereof expired.
K. Charles the Second after the Restoration gave all the
forfeited tythes in that Kingdom to the Church. Many grants
of lands in England, with tythes annexed thereto or part
thereof, may probably be now expired or are continually
dropping in to the Crown; and forfeitures of a like nature
will according to the course of human affairs be making
from time to time and afford opportunities of the like
benefactions; for if tythes were exempted as well in the
renewal of such grants as in the remission of forfeitures,
they might be very usefully applied for the better
endowment of churches in popular Cities. In this or the like
manner may that great inconvenience be in a good
measure removed.
A noble grant hath been made of the First Fruits, and
Tenths for the augmentation of small Livings, which will in a
course of years be a considerable, though slow remedy for
this evil. But it is still a question whether the Church will
gain more by that benefaction, than it will lose in the same
term of years, by the late change of the maxims of the
Court of Exchequer in relation to tythes by the great
encouragement which the Judges thereof give to pretended
and unreasonable moduses (or certain trifling payments of
money in lieu of tythes of 20, 30 or fifty times their value)
and by the continual multiplying of such moduses all over
the Kingdom; which Gentlemen are labouring by all ways to
find pretexts to create, and corrupt patrons have too great
opportunities of effecting with regard to livings in their
Advowson, so that the evil is not unlikely in some years to
grow universal.
 The case of the Clergy is certainly very hard in this
respect. They come to a Living generally Strangers to the
place and ignorant of the rights and dues belonging to the
Church. It is the interest and commonly the business of
every one in their parish to impose upon them with false
accounts of the value of their tythes, and to draw them into
agreements much below the real value thereof. Their
predecessor being dead, his papers neglected or carried off
by his executors, they derive little knowledge from either.
After long waiting for some equivalent to the large expense
of a University education, coming at last into a benefice,
they are glad to take the first offer that will make them
easy, being either by their former manner of life and
attachment to their studies, indisposed to have their time
and thoughts taken up in the collecting of tythes, or by the
ignorance of country affairs utterly unqualified to manage
so new and troublesome an affair as the gathering of them
in kind, not caring to oppress or disoblige their
parishioners, or to go to law upon a footing they do not
fully understand, and at an expense they are not able to
bear; especially since they have only a life interest in the
Living, and if they can but be easy for their own time, they
are willing to leave the burden of asserting the rights of the
Church to their next successor. These circumstances and
this temper of mind induce the Clergy too often to afford
those who have a mind to make a prey of the revenue of
the Church, means of effecting their dishonourable
purpose; in which they are not a little favoured by the
proceedings of the Courts of Westminster Hall.
Great care had been taken in ancient times to preserve
the revenue of the church, but it was by methods adapted
to the nature and circumstances of those times. Terriers or
particular accounts of the rights of each benefice in a
Diocese, have been for many ages given in at every Bps.
triennial visitation; and these being drawn up by the joint
consent of the Incumbent and Parishioners, and signed by
the Minister and Churchwardens were used to be looked
upon, and in all reason and equity ought to be deemed
exceptionable evidences of such rights. They were
accordingly received as such in the spiritual Courts where
all suits for Tythes and other dues of the Clergy were
carried on, and being Ecclesiastical causes and only of their
cognisance. But since the Reformation the Common
Lawyers have found out querks in law to draw these causes
into their Courts, and particularly whenever a modus is
pretended, that pretence is a sufficient reason for a Judge
to issue out a prohibition ordering the Spiritual Court to
proceed no further in such a cause. It being thus brought
into the Common Law Courts, the next thing is to set aside
all the evidences against such pretence of a modus, arising
from the agreement of these Terriers for hundreds of years
together; which is done on a pretext that these Terriers
were taken by direction from Bps. and not in virtue of any
special commission from the Crown, the result of which
alone is all the evidence allowed in these Courts.
The Clergy thus stripped of all the evidences wherein
they confided, and had been ever safe before, were forced
to have recourse to other methods for opposing such
pretences of a modus. Now by Law a Modus must have
been from time immemorial, and this was judged to be the
time of Richard I. higher than whose reign none of our
Records relating to this subject go; and indeed none are
ancienter except the Piperolls and Domesday book. When
therefore a Modus of sixpence an acre for land now set at
twenty shillings an acre and the Crop whereof is probably
worth considerably more was pretended, they thought it a
sufficient refutation of such Modus, to shew by records of
the Tax rolls in the resigns of the Successors of that King,
and by Inquisitions taken in virtue of commissions from the
Crown, that the very land in question was set in later reigns
than Richards but at three pence an acre, and therefore six
pence an acre could never be then paid for the tythe
thereof. This proof was indeed allowed till Baron Pryse was
removed from the Exchequer Court; since which it has been
rejected and all the maxims formerly received there in
favour of tythes laid aside; so that the decision of the cause
is now left to the testimony of living witnesses for the time
of their particular memory; in which respect the Clergy lye
under a manifest disadvantage, few caring to depose on
their side, and their predecessors papers and accompt
books seldom falling into the hands of the successors,
whilst all the receipts of those predecessors are in the
hands of their adversaries with whom they are at law.
To bring them out of these difficulties and to put a stop
to the growing evil of new Moduses starting up daily
nothing seems more proper or can be more effectual than a
Commission to be granted to worth virtuous and
understanding Gentlemen in every County of the Kingdom
to enquiry into the value of Livings and to draw up a
particular account of the rights and dues of each to be
returned into the Court of the Exchequer and there kept on
record. This would stop at once all future pretences to new
Moduses; because there is no averring against a record,
and the rights of the Clergy will be fixed for ever, liable to
no invasion, especially if exemplifications of such returns of
the Commissioners under the Seale of the Court of
Exchequer were lodged in the registry of every Bp. and
Archdeacon in England.
K. James the First took this method in Ireland when he
granted the escheated Counties of Ulster in different
parcels of land to Planters, he caused a glebe of 60 acres of
land in every thousand of which a parish consisted, to be
set out for the Minister to whom he likewise gave all
manner of tythes in kind of all the lands throughout each
parish. As every Planter was obliged to pass patents under
the Great Seale for this land, so were the Clergy for their
glebe or tythes; but as the passing of so many single
patents as there were benefices in Ulster would have been
too heavy a charge upon each incumbent he directed for
the saving of fees that the endowments of all the livings in
each County should be passed in one patent. Among other
happy consequences of this proceeding, it is a very
agreeable one to the Clergy of that province that they
never have any lawsuits with their parishioners, nor indeed
can have, so long as a record subsists to clear and express
in their favour. Were the same method taken in England,
were the rights of Livings as well ascertained and lawsuits
about them as effectually prevented, no Clergy upon earth
would have more credit with their parishioners than those
of England, who are not inferior to any other in learning,
judgment, merit or indeed any other respect. Few things
would be more serviceable to the security of the Church of
England, than such a method of keeping the Clergy always
well with their parishioners.
With the same view was it that K. James settled one
common tything table for all Ulster thereby preventing all
disputes in small matters. It were to be wished, the same
method was taken in England, and that one uniform tything
table was settled all over the Kingdom, or at least in the
different quarters thereof, according to the different
circumstances of each quarter. This would contribute to the
same desirable end.
There was about a.d. 1710 a Bill passed in Parliament in
favour of the Clergy, for the more easier recovery of small
tythes, by which in the case of Quakers and other
refractory persons Justices of the Peace were empowered
to give the Clergy possession of their dues by distraining on
the premises or on the goods of the refractory persons.
This remedy was speedy attended with very little expense,
and was had at first without trouble or difficulty. But of late
years men disaffected to the Clergy having been put into
the Commissions of the Peace, and the terms of the Act
being that they may (not that they shall) give relief and do
justice to the Clergy, these Justices say, they are indeed
empowered but not obliged to help the Clergy to their
rights, and so refuse to act in the case; by which the law is
evaded, and the intent of it defeated. If this or some other
such short and easy method of recovering the dues of the
Clergy were properly established it would be another help
to the security of the Church.
After all the means that have been mentioned for the
security of the Church of England in an ecclesiastical way,
there is another of a different kind more considerable and
necessary than all of them together: and this is the
establishing of the choice of an House of Commons on such
a foot, as it may be free from all Court or Ministerial
influence. There cannot be a point conceived of more
absolute necessity for the good of the kingdom, nor is there
any other so universally and ardently the common wish of
the Nation. This, once settled, would secure everything else
that any lover of this country and religion has to wishe. But
the great question is by what means and in what manner
this is to be effected.
For my part, I readily profess that in all cases I am
disposed to have recourse to the old ways of our
constitution for the redress of any pressing grievance.
There was formerly a reasonable proportion between the
representatives of Counties which were about 90, and
those of Cities and great Towns which amounted to about
100, and those of lesser burroughs which returned about
70 deputies, these making in all about 256 members of
Parliament. This proportion of representation lasted till the
time of Q. Elizabeth: but since the beginning of her reign, it
has been gradually destroying, and is now so entirely
overturned, that the smaller burroughs, though they do not
possess the thousandth part of the others property, can
outvote them both in the House of Commons, there having
been as many representatives for these paltry burroughs
added to the Parliament, as it consisted of before that time.
In one Session of Parliament in that Queen’s reign eight
small burroughs in Cornwall were called upon to send
Deputies, and the humour went on till the Parliament of
1641 made up the disproportion now complained of with so
much reason. There does not therefore appear to me any
means of rectifying this abuse and of restoring the ancient
balance of our Constitution, so natural as the disfranchising
at once of all those late created Parliamentary burroughs,
whose constant corruption and bribery of late years so well
known and so easy to be proved, call loudly for such a
method to be taken.
If this should be thought too great a change, and the
disfranchising of these burroughs should be deemed
improper, their corruption may probably be prevented by
allowing all the freeholders of 40s. a year within the
hundred, in which such burrough is situated, to vote
equally with the present electors or inhabitants in the
burrough for the representatives thereof: and in case this
method be taken, such Freeholders being allowed a right of
voting for representatives, no wrong would be done them,
if the right of voting in elections of Knights of the Shire
were restrained to Freeholders that pay for 10£ a year to
the land tax: which would render County elections much
more easy and less expensive.
If neither of these methods should be approved, it may
be considered whether all these burroughs should not be
limited to one representative, and the choice of the other
transferred to the several Counties of the kingdom in
proportion to their payments towards the Land Tax; by
which means the present number of representatives may
be preserved. One or other of these methods seems
necessary to be taken, or else the corruption, being grown
so general and barefaced in these burroughs, will not admit
of a cure: and unless it be cured, Parliaments that should
naturally be the guardians of all our rights and liberties, will
prove the worst of our grievances, and such an one as will
make all the rest irremediable. If these great points, of the
proportion of our representation, and the unbiassed
freedome of elections were once secured, everything else
will easily be secured by Parliament.
To establish this freedom and put a stop to the
corruption or violence that destroy it, nothing appears at
first sight more proper than the putting of Parliaments upon
their ancient foot, allowing them to sit but one Session, and
never to continue above a year. In such a case foreigners or
strangers who have no merit or interest in a burrough but
what their bribes and money purchase them, will never be
able to carry elections against the Gentlemen of the
neighbourhood, who have a natural interest in the place.
For as the present circumstances of the Crown and Nation,
so different from what they formerly were, require
Parliament to be annually held for the granting of new
supplies, no private purse can hold out for any length of
time in furnishing those immense sums that are now
squandered away by strangers in the expences of disputed
elections: and as this evill is grown very rife, and all laws
made to remedy it have hitherto proved ineffectual, it is
scarce possible to be cured by any other method.
There is another practice in the House of Commons
itself, that helps to destroy the freedome of Parliaments: I
mean the method taken by the stronger party of thinning
the House, and expelling such as are of different
sentiments from themselves, however duely chosen;
altering the rights of electors as they see fit and as will best
furnish them a pretence for that purpose. Some method
should therefore be taken in fixing the right of voting in
elections on an invariable foot, so as not to be violated or
altered by any determination of the House of Commons. If
this were done by an Act of Parliament, and every person
whose vote is refused by the returning officer, or whose
right is infringed by the intrusion of a wrong member, had
power to bring an action and to recover very great
damages, from both of these, this scandalous and
mischievous evill might possibly be prevented.
The iniquities of these late times suggest some other
measures to be taken; such as the limiting of the number
of officers and pensioners that sit in the House of
Commons; and the disabling of all Excise men, Custom
house officers, and soldiers, that are under command and
consequently not free to vote according to their own
inclinations and real sentiments, from having voices in
elections, unless on account of their freeholds, when they
have any.
In former times the Civil and Military power of the
Nation lay entirely in the hands of Gentlemen of estates,
and was incident to their tenures; but that face of things is
now changed, and the exercise of the Civil power is at
present vested in the Justices of the peace, as that of the
military is in the Lord and Deputy Lieutenants. Very
inconsiderable persons have of late years been put into
both these commissions; and very ill consequences have
either been found or are daily apprehended, to arise from
thence. This makes it generally wished that none should be
qualified for the office of a Deputy Lieutenant who has not
£500 a year, or for that of a Justice of peace in any county,
who has not £300 or at least £200 a year in such County.
These methods for restoring in some degree such
considerable branches of our old Constitution would at the
same time advance the security of the Church.
There are penal laws enough already made, and I do
not see any occasion there can be of adding to them unless
that instead of receiving the Sacrament occasionally, the
constant conformity of a person to the established Church,
be made the qualification for any government, command or
office of rank or profit: and that instead of a Certificate of a
persons having received the Sacrament, another of his
being a constant communicant with the Church of England
be insisted on and given by the Minister and
 Churchwardens of the parish where such person usually
resides six months at least in the year, before he shall be
allowed to enter upon the exercise of his office.
Some such regulations as these, (which are but too
much wanted at present,) would contribute equally to the
security of the Church, and the happiness of the Nation.

At the end of this Memorandum there is appended the following

autograph letter from the Pretender, which would seem to show that
Sir Robert Walpole had personally authorised Mr. Carte to obtain a
statement of his views. It runs as follows:—