every clergyman in England that nothing short of disestablishment
could be intended by them. And this was the man to whom they had all
looked for protection! This was the bulwark of the Church, to whom
they had trusted! This was the hero who had been so sound and so
firm respecting the Irish Establishment, when evil counsels had
been allowed to prevail in regard to that ill-used but still
sacred vineyard! All friends of the Church had then whispered
among themselves fearfully, and had, with sad looks and grievous
forebodings, acknowledged that the thin edge of the wedge had been
driven into the very rock of the Establishment. The enemies of
the Church were known to be powerful, numerous, and of course
unscrupulous. But surely this Brutus would not raise a dagger against
this Caesar! And yet, if not, what was the meaning of those words?
And then men and women began to tell each other,--the men and women
who are the very salt of the earth in this England of ours,--that
their Brutus, in spite of his great qualities, had ever been
mysterious, unintelligible, dangerous, and given to feats of
conjuring. They had only been too submissive to their Brutus.
Wonderful feats of conjuring they had endured, understanding nothing
of the manner in which they were performed,--nothing of their
probable results; but this feat of conjuring they would not endure.
And so there were many meetings held about the country, though the
time for combined action was very short.

Nothing more audacious than the speaking of those few words to the
bucolic electors of East Barsetshire had ever been done in the
political history of England. Cromwell was bold when he closed the
Long Parliament. Shaftesbury was bold when he formed the plot for
which Lord Russell and others suffered. Walpole was bold when, in his
lust for power, he discarded one political friend after another. And