erpillars, moths, and cankerworms. But
our ancestors habitually indulged in such expressions; and even
Tyndale, the martyr, called church functionaries horse-leeches,
maggots, and caterpillars in a kingdom. Such terms were among the
traditional amenities of all controversy, but especially of
religious controversy. But since the Martin-Marprelate Tracts or
Latimer's sermons the strong anti-Episcopalian feeling of the
country had never expressed itself so vigorously as in this
"decade of grievances" against the hierarchy, presented to
Parliament by a man who was too sensitive of "the ruin of
religion and the sinking of the State."

The Star Chamber fined him L10,000, and then the High Commission
Court deprived him of his ministry, and sentenced him to be
whipped, to be pilloried, to lose his ears, to have his nose
slit, to be branded on his cheeks with "S. S." (Sower of
Sedition), and to be imprisoned for life! Probably with all this,
the burning of his book went without saying; though I have found
no specific mention of its incurring that fate.

The sentence was executed in November 1630, in frost and snow,
making its victim, as he says himself, "a theatre of misery to
men and angels." It was all done in the name of law and order,
like all the other great atrocities of history. After ten years'
imprisonment Leighton was released by the Long Parliament, and a
few years later he wrote an account of his sufferings, and a
report of his trial in the Star Chamber. Therein we learn that
Laud, the Bishop of London, was the moving spirit of the whole
thing. At the end of his speech he apologised for his presence at
the trial, admitting that by the Canon law no ecclesiastic might
be present at a judicature where loss of life or limb was
incurred, but contending that there was no such loss in
ear-cutting, nose-slitting, branding, and whipping. Leighton, of
course, may have been misinformed of what occurred at his trial
(for he himself was not allowed to be present!); and so some
doubt must also attach to the story that when the censure was
delivered "the Prelate off with his cap, and holding up his
hands gave thanks to God who had given him the victory over his
enemies."

Shortly after his release, Leighton was made keeper of Lambeth
Palace, and then he died, "rather insane of mind for the
hardships he had suffered"; but, such is the irony of fate, the
man who had paid so heavily for his antipathy to bishops became
himself t