MONTAGU, Richard (1575-1641)

Montagu was one of the most controversial clerics of early Stuart England. Scholarly but partisan, self-absorbed yet thin-skinned, he provoked the lasting enmity of the House of Commons with his anti-Calvinist opinions, causing Members to abandon the convention that they should not debate doctrinal issues. In the process, he precipitated policy changes within the government which helped pave the way for the Laudian dominance of the Caroline Church. The son of a Buckinghamshire vicar, he was born at Dorney, barely three miles from Eton College, where he secured a scholarship. In 1594 he progressed to King’s College, Cambridge, becoming a fellow three years later. There he had his first recorded experience of religious controversy, being instructed by the provost to copy out the 1595 Lambeth Articles, a firmly Calvinist riposte to the early stirrings of Arminianism at the university. This episode suggests that Montagu’s own anti-Calvinist views were already emerging.23 Sterry, 235; Cosin Corresp. 56; N. Tyacke, Anti-Calvinists, 4-5, 127.

Early career, 1604-23

Montagu was ordained in 1604, but showed no initial interest in pursuing a clerical career. Instead, he returned to Eton, where in around 1606 he first encountered Dudley Carleton^* (later Viscount Dorchester). Carleton was about to marry the daughter of the college’s provost, Sir Henry Savile^‡, whom Montagu was assisting with a monumental new edition of the works of St John Chrysostom, a fourth-century patriarch of Constantinople.24 CSP Dom. 1629-31, p. 122; Chamberlain Letters ed. N.E. McClure, i. 238; Sterry, 235. This project drew Montagu into his own study of the Church Fathers, leading in 1610 to his first publication, the Two Invectives of Gregory Nazienzen against Julian. In the preface, he acknowledged the help of two friends, the openly Arminian Richard ‘Dutch’ Thomson, and the similarly anti-Calvinist Augustine Lindsell^*, later bishop of Hereford. Montagu’s commentary also cited John Overall^*, later bishop of Norwich, the earliest prominent English advocate of Arminianism.25 Cosin Corresp. 10; Tyacke, 127. Thus, by the time he took the degree of BD, in 1609, Montagu’s theological preferences were becoming clear, his anti-Calvinist leanings setting him apart from the Anglican mainstream. Nevertheless, that same year saw him provided with a prebend at Wells Cathedral by his namesake James Montagu^*, bishop of Bath and Wells (later of Winchester). In addition, in 1610 he became rector of the Somerset parish of Wootton Courtenay. These posts gave Montagu a much needed income until 1613, when he secured an Eton College fellowship, doubtless courtesy of Sir Henry Savile, whom Montagu later described as ‘the first means of my advancement’. Almost simultaneously, he resigned his West Country living, and transferred to the rectory of Stanford Rivers, in Essex.26 HMC Wells, ii. 358, 361; SP16/153/73.

Now much closer geographically to the court in London and Windsor, Montagu soon afterwards made the crucial breakthrough of his early career. Around 1615, ‘being well known by King James to be a person very well versed in the [Church] Fathers and ancient monuments of the Christian Church’, he was instructed by the monarch to write a new ecclesiastical history in reply to the Catholic version of events presented in the Annals of Cardinal Baronius. This huge project, which ensured his continued engagement with early Christian thought, was to occupy him for the rest of his life. Meanwhile, royal patronage brought him the deanery of Hereford Cathedral in 1616 and, in the following year, the archdeaconry of the same city and a prebend at St George’s Chapel, Windsor. Around the same time, James appointed him one of his chaplains.27 A. Hay, Hist. of Chichester, 473; Cosin Corresp. 10.

Montagu’s next major publication was another royal commission, a reply to John Selden’s^‡ highly controversial History of Tithes, which argued that this vital clerical income was essentially of secular origin. Although Selden’s book was suppressed by the High Commission, the scope and depth of his antiquarian scholarship required an equally impressive response. Montagu possessed the necessary knowledge of ancient sources, and firmly reasserted the case for tithes being divinely ordained. However, his Diatribae upon the First Part of the Late History of Tithes, published in 1621, also brought him his first taste of literary controversy, to which he reacted badly. Writing in January that year to his friend John Cosin^† (later bishop of Durham), he complained that he now had critics ‘on all sides, puritans, papists, lawyers, hell and all’, declaring theatrically that he was nevertheless ‘ready not only to be bound but … to die for the Church’. Cosin, like Augustine Lindsell, was then a chaplain to the anti-Calvinist bishop of Durham, Richard Neile^* (later archbishop of York), and Montagu hoped that the bishop would ‘take occasion to tell the king what is threatened me’. Tellingly, he also offered his services to Neile’s circle, the ‘Durham House’ group, though for the time being the bishop seems to have kept him at arm’s length.28 Fuller, i. 201; P. Christianson, Discourse on Hist., Law and Governance in the Public Career of John Selden, 68-9, 84, 326-7; Cosin Corresp. 9-10; Works of Abp. Laud ed. J. Bliss, iv. 175-6.

Although Montagu found it difficult to handle criticism of his views, this had not deterred him from sparking off a theological dispute himself at court in September 1620. Preaching before the king at Windsor, he ventured into the dangerous territory of intercessory prayer to the saints, creating the impression that he was endorsing Catholic teachings on this subject. Indeed, he was taken to task by the dean of Windsor, the former Roman cleric Marc’Antonio de Dominis, with whom he was already discussing areas of common ground between the Anglican and Catholic churches. Montagu eventually clarified his views in another book, the Treatise of Invocation of Saints, published in 1624 with a dedication to the lord keeper, John Williams^*, bishop of Lincoln (later archbishop of York), whom Montagu described as his most important patron next to the king himself. Although this work ultimately reaffirmed the Protestant view that prayer should be directed to God alone, its copious speculation on the possible relationship between mankind, saints and angels did little to dispel the impression that Montagu’s sympathies lay with Rome.29 P. McCullough, Sermons at Ct. (suppl. cal. 242-4); Stuart Dynastic Policy and Religious Pols. 1621-5 ed. M.C. Questier (Cam. Soc. 5th ser. xxxiv), 29; R. Montagu, Immediate Addresse Unto God Alone. First Delivered in a Sermon Before His Majestie at Windsore. Since Revised and Inlarged to a Just Treatise of Invocation of Saints (1624); J. Hacket, Scrinia Reserata (1693), 69-70. Fortunately, James appreciated his theological tightrope-walking, and in 1623 augmented Montagu’s income by handing him the Sussex rectory of Petworth.30 SO3/7, unfol. (Jan. 1623); CSP Dom. 1619-23, p. 546.

The ‘New Gagg’, 1623-4

Although now widely assumed to be pro-Catholic, Montagu was in fact firmly opposed to what he saw as the modern corruptions of popery. During the spring of 1622, he was irritated by the arrival in Stanford Rivers of ‘Romish limitors’, who attempted to convert some of his female parishioners to Catholicism. Alerted to the situation, he sought to confront these proselytizers, inviting them to debate the issues with him, and promising to renounce Anglicanism himself if they could convince him of three things: that the Roman Church equated to the catholic, or universal Church; that the Anglican Church was not part of this catholic Church; and that the arguments used by Roman Catholics against the Church of England were all orthodox catholic doctrines. Unsurprisingly, the Catholic missionaries declined the challenge. However, in October 1623, Montagu was sent an anonymous Catholic tract, A Gagg for the New Gospel, with an invitation to answer its contentions. This was grist to his mill. As he explained to his friend Cosin two months later: ‘I have seen many foolish things in that kind, but never saw more, therefore answer it I must.’ Montagu was clear about the response required. The book market was already awash with poor quality Protestant treatises. These merely served to provide ammunition for Catholic propagandists, ‘who impute the frantic fits and froth of every puritan paroxysm to the received doctrine of our Church’. What was needed was a scholarly exposition of genuine Anglican beliefs, which would demonstrate that the Church of England was in fact more orthodox than the Roman Church.31 Cosin Corresp. 32-3; Montagu, New Gagg, preface to the reader (unpag.). The Gagg for the New Gospel was in fact the work of John Heigham of St Omer: Tyacke, 125.

From the outset, Montagu’s reply was provocative in tone. The very title, A Gagg for the New Gospel? No: a New Gagg for an Old Goose, deliberately insulted his Catholic opponent, whom he referred to in the text as the ‘gagger’, a ‘juggler’, a ‘fool’, and a ‘giddy goose-gaggler’.32 Montagu, New Gagg, frontispiece, 40, 45, 190. The ‘gagger’ had presented 47 propositions, supposedly all showing that the Church of England upheld doctrines contrary to the teaching of its own English bibles, with copious reference to the Church Fathers. Montagu set out to demolish each of these arguments in turn, using his own, superior knowledge of these sources. The ‘gagger’ was shown to have relied on selective compilations of the Fathers’ writings, whereas Montagu quoted the original works, and scathingly highlighted the inaccuracies in his opponent’s citations. While he acknowledged that his mocking tone might, to some people, seem inappropriate for a clergyman, the method itself was hardly controversial.33 Ibid., preface to the reader (unpag.), 93, 132, 154.

What marked out the New Gagg from most works of its kind was the central thrust of Montagu’s argument. Rather than attack the ‘gagger’ by upholding in scholarly fashion the standard positions of Protestant theology, he sought to out-argue his opponent on his own terms, employing the bible, the Church Fathers and ancient Christian traditions to prove that the Anglican Church still upheld the core truths which the corrupt Roman Church had abandoned. In the process, he downplayed the value of more recent theological pronouncements as a guide to true religion, effectively discounting post-Reformation doctrinal innovations, whether Catholic or Protestant. Montagu also side-stepped most of his opponent’s propositions by arguing that only eight or nine of them represented genuine Anglican beliefs, and then only in distorted form.34 Ibid., preface to the reader; K. Fincham and N. Tyacke, Altars Restored, 127.

While Montagu’s principal objective was to disprove Catholic propaganda, this approach also allowed him free rein to promote his own, anti-Calvinist opinions on the true nature of the Church of England. For the ordinary Anglican reader, some of his conclusions would have been startling. The Church of Rome remained in some sense a branch of the true Church, notwithstanding its flaws. It was misleading to describe the pope as the Antichrist. Elizabeth I was never supreme governor of the Church of England, merely supreme governor over all ecclesiastical affairs of the realm. Catholics and Anglicans essentially agreed on the nature of the eucharistic sacraments, despite Rome’s ‘presumptuous definition of transubstantiation’. There was nothing wrong per se with religious images, though the Catholic practice of adoring them was a manifest error. It was perfectly acceptable to use the sign of the cross during Anglican worship. While Protestants rejected the invocation of saints as inefficacious, it was still reasonable to believe that the latter interceded for mankind. Most controversially of all, Montagu asserted that both Churches were in broad agreement on the key tenet of free will; although some Anglicans might privately believe the Calvinist teaching that God’s chosen people, once saved, could not fall from grace, this was not an official doctrine of the Church of England. Each of these points was lavishly supported with biblical quotations or extracts from the Church Fathers. However, for an audience conditioned to think that Anglicans were guaranteed salvation, while Catholics were corrupted idolaters on the high road to hell, Montagu’s nuanced scholarship was unlikely to quell the strong suspicion that he was selling out to Rome.35 Montagu, New Gagg, 50, 68-9, 74, 116, 171, 214, 229, 251-2, 299-300, 320. Doubtless aware that his new book would offend those of a more Calvinist persuasion, Montagu was careful to get it licensed for publication by his friends Cosin and Lindsell, probably with Bishop Neile’s assistance.36 Cosin Corresp. 33; Fincham and Tyacke, 127.

While the New Gagg was ostensibly just a personal counterblast to Catholic propaganda, its timing, and the fact that Montagu rushed it out in barely two months, indicate that it was also intended as a contribution to a wider debate about the future direction of the Anglican Church. At the point when he started writing it, Prince Charles (Stuart^*, prince of Wales) had just returned from his negotiations in Madrid, seemingly on the verge of marrying a Catholic. King James, Montagu’s principal patron, was strongly committed to the Spanish Match as a means of recovering the Palatinate for his daughter and son-in-law, and was himself increasingly anti-Calvinist. On that basis, it was reasonable for Montagu to suppose that a new work which played down the differences between Anglicanism and Catholicism would be well received at court.37 Procs. 1625, p. 325; Tyacke, 104; Fincham and Tyacke, 127-8. What Montagu completely failed to anticipate was the rapid drift towards war with Spain, which unleashed anti-Catholic and pro-Calvinist feeling across the country. In that context, the New Gagg’s arguments looked subversive, all the more so because the book was ‘published by authority’. An attack on predestination at this juncture smacked of Arminianism, which had only recently caused religious turmoil within the Dutch republic, and weakened its military resistance to Spain. It was known that at least one Spanish writer had advocated the use of similar tactics in England. The Dutch had finally resolved their divisions through the Synod of Dort, at which Arminian opinions were condemned. James had endorsed the Dort resolutions, and was widely assumed to support them still. On that basis, how had Montagu obtained permission to publish? Was the English government becoming doctrinally conflicted? In the popular mind, the New Gagg took on a sinister significance that its author could scarcely have envisaged.38 Montagu, New Gagg, frontispiece; CD 1628, iv. 240.

In the short term, all seemed well. The book sold quickly, and in May 1624 one of Cosin’s friends commented: ‘Mr Montagu is everywhere with his Gagger, like a giant against a pygmy. … I do not wonder that some are offended, but God’s blessing on his heart for redeeming our Church from those scandals’ contained in A Gagg for the New Gospel. One month earlier, Montagu had been approached at Windsor by the royal favourite, George Villiers^*, 1st duke of Buckingham, who proffered friendship, and hinted at further preferments.39 Cosin Corresp. 17, 22. However, at Oxford University, where the Regius professor, John Prideaux, had long promoted rigid Calvinist theology, there was a fierce and hostile reaction to the New Gagg. Two East Anglian ministers, Samuel Ward and John Yates, also decided to take a stand against the book, and petitioned Parliament, asserting that England faced the same peril as the Dutch republic if Montagu’s arguments were not suppressed. The petition was brought into the House of Commons on 13 May by John Pym^‡, a man of firm Calvinist convictions, who denounced the New Gagg as ‘full fraught with dangerous opinions of Arminius’. The House responded sympathetically, though not all Members fully grasped the issues at stake, Sir Walter Earle^‡ recording in his diary that the petition concerned the ancient heresy of Arianism. Moreover, there was no clear consensus on how to address a complaint of this kind. Eventually, a delegation was sent to inform the archbishop of Canterbury, the firmly Calvinist George Abbot^*, and there the matter rested until the end of the 1624 session.40 Tyacke, 74-5, 147-8; CJ, i. 704a, 788b; ‘Earle 1624’, f. 182; C. Russell, PEP, 207.

Appello Caesarem, 1624-5

The Commons’ approach left Abbot in a quandary. While he felt that action was needed, complaint should properly have been made to the Lords, rather than to him personally. The lower House was not considered to have any jurisdiction over religious affairs, and the archbishop was not sure that he could censure the New Gagg without the backing of Convocation or the High Commission. Moreover, he must have known that Montagu enjoyed the king’s patronage, which meant that he must tread carefully. Accordingly, Abbot raised the matter with James, who granted him permission to interview Montagu. This meeting seemed to go well. The archbishop drew Montagu’s attention to the debates stirred up in Parliament and elsewhere, and urged him to revise his book, toning down the more contentious points, and making it clear that he supported neither popery nor Arminianism. However, by this time James had reaffirmed his personal support for Montagu, informing him: ‘If thou be a papist, I am a papist’, and leaving it to his own discretion whether he followed Abbot’s directions or published a defence of his views.41 Procs. 1625, pp. 286, 325. When one of the petitioners to the Commons, Samuel Ward, was summoned before the Privy Council, Montagu assumed, incorrectly, that it was on his account, and took it as a further sign of royal encouragement, vowing in return to ‘adventure extremum potentiae for the Church’. This, he now recognized, would involve taking on twin enemies, ‘puritanism and popery, the Scylla and Charybdis of ancient piety’.42 CSP Dom. 1623-5, p. 273; APC, 1623-5, p. 237; Cosin Corresp. 21.

Accordingly, though Montagu did as requested by Abbot, and drafted a second edition of the New Gagg, amending the controversial passages about justified souls falling from grace, he also began work on a new book, Appello Caesarem: a Just Appeale from Two Unjust Informers.43 Cosin Corresp. 22-3, 36. This was divided into two sections, the first addressing the claims that he was an Arminian, the second dismissing allegations of popery. Despite maintaining that his priority was to preserve ‘peace and quietness in the Church’, Montagu used this framework to elaborate the key arguments of the New Gagg. Once again, he attacked Calvinist teachings on predestination, denying that God’s elect were incapable of falling away, and dismissing the resolutions of the Synod of Dort as broadly irrelevant to the Church of England.44 R. Montagu, Appello Caesarem: a Just Appeale from Two Unjust Informers (1625), 6, 14, 17, 30-1, 33, 51, 69-70, 74, 107. He then reiterated his most contentious views on Rome and its traditions, such as its status as a true Church, the pope’s misidentification with the Antichrist, the nature of the eucharist, the role of images, and use of the sign of the cross, the value of personal confession, the sacramental nature of ordination, and priestly powers of absolution.45 Ibid. 111, 139, 142-3, 253-5, 266-71, 289-90, 299, 306, 309, 312. As in the New Gagg, Montagu insisted that he was standing up for moderate, authentic Anglicanism, but the tone of Appello Caesarem was, if anything, even more offensive. In place of the cutting ridicule inflicted on the ‘Gagger’, Montagu now resorted to outright abuse of his Calvinist opponents, whom he denounced as puritans, ‘men of moving, violent, quicksilver, gunpowder spirits’, who ‘brawl at the shadow of their own fancies, as dogs bark at the moon’. This was a shocking new development. While Montagu, in his private correspondence, had long equated puritanism with Calvinism, the term was generally held to refer more narrowly to nonconformists who challenged the framework of the Anglican religious settlement. By implying that puritanism was actually a doctrinal position, he effectively denied that mainstream opinion in the Church of England, by now broadly Calvinist on key issues such as predestination, was actually orthodox.46 Ibid. 44, 88, 112.

Although Montagu claimed, ingenuously, that the text of Appello Caesarem was ‘temperate enough’, he fully expected the book to stir up further trouble. During the period of its composition, his mood fluctuated between defiance and apprehension. Hearing in October 1624 that John Prideaux was planning a reply to the New Gagg, he boasted to Cosin: ‘the man thinketh well of himself, yet if King James please, I dare look him in the face in his own schools’. Meanwhile, he clung to the hope of further promotion in the Church, aware that if he became a bishop, he would have ‘greater countenance to oppose the puritans, and be the freer from every skip-jack’s opposition and censure’, an important consideration given that a further session of Parliament was expected shortly. However, while the duke of Buckingham discreetly followed the progress of Montagu’s new project, he did nothing openly to advance his career. In reality, the controversial cleric had few genuine friends in high circles. The anti-Calvinist bishop of St Davids, William Laud^* (later archbishop of Canterbury), who possessed some influence over the duke, declined to exercise it on Montagu’s behalf, leading him to complain that he could ‘smell a rat’.47 Cosin Corresp. 22, 24; J. Davies, Caroline Captivity of the Church, 106-7. Isolated at Petworth during the winter months, he could rely only on Cosin and Bishop Neile to ensure that the king was kept informed of his literary endeavours. In December he heard it rumoured that James would make him bishop of Chichester, but the see was not currently vacant, and nothing came of this in the short term. At length, Appello Caesarem was referred to the sympathetic dean of Carlisle, Francis White^* (later bishop of Ely), who licensed it for publication with some alterations, but leaked the contents to one of Montagu’s critics. To add to the tension, Parliament was repeatedly prorogued over the winter. By January 1625 Montagu was pondering whether he should try to become a member of Convocation, which would give him some protection against further attacks in the Commons, but he doubted whether he could muster enough support in the dioceses where he held livings.48 Cosin Corresp. 25-7, 35-7, 42, 45, 48-9, 54-5.

Appello Caesarem was finally entered at the Stationers’ Company in London on 18 Feb., and Montagu began drafting a dedicatory epistle to the king. He still hoped that Laud might encourage Buckingham to secure him some promotion, but recognized that his key patron remained James, who had issued a special warrant for the licensing of the new book, and was keen to see Montagu make further progress in his ecclesiastical history project. By mid March the dedication was ready for the king’s inspection, and Montagu was now anxious for Appello Caesarem to appear before Parliament met again. Then, to his utter horror, news reached him on 28 Mar. of James’s death. ‘My hand shakes, my heart sobs’, he wrote to Cosin, ‘oh woe! and woeful heavy day! … What shall I do? … I cannot write on. God bless King Charles, and send him to tread his father’s steps.’49 Procs. 1625, p. 236, n. 25; Cosin Corresp. 56-7, 59-60, 63, 65-8.

The 1625 Parliament

Charles I’s accession guaranteed that a new Parliament would shortly be summoned. The sudden turn of events threw Montagu into complete panic. Appello Caesarem’s existing dedication was rapidly replaced with a new one addressed to the young king, which stated at length that the book had been approved by James prior to his death. Montagu retained the book’s final emotional request: ‘Domine …, defende me gladio, et ego te defendam calamo’ (‘Lord, defend me with the sword, and I shall defend you with the pen’); but he was not certain that the ‘Caesar’ to whom he was now appealing for protection would hear his plea.50 Montagu, Appello Caesarem, sigs. A3-4, p. 322. During late April presentation copies of Appello Caesarem were prepared for Charles, Buckingham, Archbishop Abbot and Lord Keeper Williams. On 1 May, Montagu turned up unannounced at Lambeth Palace, and handed the book to a startled Abbot. The offended prelate demanded to know why it had been published without his knowledge, but received the ‘cold answer’ that Montagu had been absent from London until mid-April, since when he had been busy with the printing. Abbot was also still waiting to see the revised version of the New Gagg, which Montagu had shelved while completing Appello Caesarem, so clearly no support could be expected from that quarter.51 Add. 4274, f. 102 (dated only 25 Apr., but evidently 1625); Procs. 1625, pp. 286-7; Cosin Corresp. 68.

As May wore on, there was mounting uproar at Oxford over Montagu’s opinions, with rumours that John Prideaux would call on Parliament to burn Appello Caesarem. Dean White rallied to Montagu’s cause, and Laud worked behind the scenes on his behalf. However, the now notorious cleric felt exposed, and hoped that the saintly bishop of Winchester, Lancelot Andrewes^*, who was known to have the king’s ear, would also speak up for him. Only now, with a new battle looming, did Montagu finally announce his intention to read the works of Arminius, to learn in detail what he was being accused of promoting.52 Cosin Corresp. 68-71; SP16/2/109. In mid June he was struck down by a violent attack of colic and the stone, and his confidence plummeted again. With Parliament now dominating his thoughts, he clutched at straws, hoping for support in the Commons from Edward Dowse^‡, a minor backbencher who lived at Petworth with Montagu’s near neighbour, Henry Percy^*, 3rd earl of Northumberland. By 20 June Montagu had established contact with Bishop Andrewes, who advised him to adopt a low profile, and let Parliament take the initiative. In fact, as both men understood, the Commons’ convention up to this time was that doctrinal issues lay beyond the remit of the lower House. Thus, as Montagu observed to Cosin, it was not clear what the Commons could actually do: ‘What have I offended against? Law? Or gospel? Or Church? Or what? Unless the doctrine of the Church be interpreted against me, as it first must be, how, or for what, can they rightly punish me?’53 Cosin Corresp. 73-6; HP Commons 1604-29, i. 19-26. Dowse was not recorded as speaking in the 1625 Parliament: HP Commons 1604-29, iv. 105.

During the next week, the Commons finally heard complaints about both the New Gagg and Appello Caesarem, this time raised by such godly Members as Henry Sherfield^‡.54 Procs. 1625, pp. 240, 247, 287-8. On 29 June a delegation was sent to Archbishop Abbot, to find out what action he had taken since 1624. Their report two days later did nothing to settle Members’ concerns. Even allowing for Abbot’s doubts about his scope for intervention, he had evidently failed to rein in Montagu, and it was becoming painfully clear that King James had protected the latter.55 Ibid. 268, 286-7, 508-9. However, if the Commons could not rely on Abbot to deal with these issues, it was not clear what Members should do themselves. Rumours briefly circulated that a bill would be introduced to suppress Montagu’s books, but after several days’ deliberations a more direct approach was tried. On 5 July Montagu informed Cosin that he had been summoned before a Commons committee. The warrant contained no explanation, though he was not unduly alarmed, as Buckingham had assured him of his support only the week before.56 Russell, 232; T. Birch, Ct. and Times of Chas. I, i. 39; Procs. 1625, p. 297; Add. 4274, f. 100. Accordingly, on 6 July, Montagu addressed his inquisitors confidently, reciting in detail the backing which he had received from the old king for both the New Gagg and Appello Caesarem. He confirmed that the former book had been revised, in accordance with Abbot’s request, but his only other concession was a half-hearted apology for any offence caused to the Commons: ‘he confesses his style to be too full of sharpness, contrary to his profession, and contrary to his disposition; but, being so traduced as he has been, desires it may be considered whether any other man would not be transported beyond moderation’.57 Procs. 1625, pp. 325-6.

The next day the committee presented its findings to the House. Montagu’s summons was justified by the tenuous assertion that Appello Caesarem offended the honour and dignity of the Commons. A conference should be requested with the House of Lords, as some of Montagu’s opinions contradicted the Anglican Thirty-Nine Articles. As a plan of action that might have sufficed, but the report went much further. Appello Caesarem was ‘factious and seditious’. Montagu claimed the support of James I, but had published statements about predestination, the pope and the Synod of Dort which directly contradicted the king’s known views, thereby dishonouring his memory. He had disturbed the peace of the Church by attacking loyal Anglicans as puritans, and by making positive statements about Catholicism, a tactic mirroring disputes in the Netherlands over Arminianism. Finally, Montagu had injured the Commons by ignoring Abbot’s advice in 1624, and was guilty of contempt for his attacks in Appello Caesarem on Ward and Yates, whose petition to the House gave them the protection of parliamentary privilege while their complaint was being heard.58 Ibid. 330-3, 338.

This report divided opinion in the Commons. In its eagerness to punish Montagu, the committee had ventured into debatable territory. The House was not united in its opposition to the cleric. The lawyer Christopher Brooke^‡ successfully moved for the reading of a petition from Montagu, the contents of which are unknown. Then a fractious debate developed. Doubts were raised about whether an offence committed against one Parliament could be punished in a subsequent session. Moreover, while there was general agreement that Abbot should be thanked for his efforts, a proposal for the whole business to be referred to the Lords met with considerable opposition, some Members ‘questioning the cognizance of the House in matters of religion, or by insinuating … a defence of Mr Montagu’s doctrine, as being popular and most common, and not yet condemned by the Church of England’. Richard Dyott^‡, later a vocal ally of Buckingham, ‘proceeded so far that he gave distaste to the House’. However, the majority agreed that they were not addressing doctrinal issues, merely Montagu’s sedition in stirring up division in the country, on which basis it was resolved that the Lords should be informed when the session resumed at Oxford a few weeks later. Rather more contentious was the claim that Montagu had committed contempt by publishing Appello Caesarem in defiance of the Commons. Another Buckingham client, Sir Edwin Sandys^‡, insisted that this was actually a private matter between Montagu and Abbot. The government spokesman Sir Humphrey May^‡ recommended shelving the issue until after discussions with the Lords. He was backed by the solicitor general, Sir Robert Heath^‡, who nevertheless maintained that the Commons did have cognizance of religious affairs, and that Montagu was guilty of contempt. Heath’s authoritative opinion swung the debate, and the House ordered that Montagu should be detained by the serjeant-at-arms, with his punishment to be settled at Oxford. Meanwhile, Abbot should be asked to see to the suppression of the offending books.59 Ibid. 333-5, 338-9; HP Commons1604-29, iv. 142; vi. 191.

At this juncture, the king intervened. On 8 July Charles informed Heath that Montagu was his chaplain, and that the Commons should have taken this into account before imprisoning him. Accordingly, he wished the cleric to be freed, and undertook to deal with him himself. At least one Commons diarist took this to mean that Charles was claiming parliamentary privilege for Montagu, as a member of his household. If that was the king’s intention, he was not following the correct procedures, as privilege of royal servants was properly handled by the Lords, which had not yet definitively agreed whether claims on behalf of chaplains were actually valid. Nevertheless, the Commons opted not to contest Charles’s demand, notifying him on 9 July that Montagu had already been freed on bail.60 Procs. 1625, pp. 359, 361-2, 364; P.M. Hunneyball, ‘Development of Parliamentary Privilege, 1604-29’, Managing Tudor and Stuart Parls. ed. C.R. Kyle (PH, xxxiv. pt. 1), 117-18. By the following day the latter was back in Windsor, writing to Bishop Neile that he was now relying on Buckingham’s protection, and the slim hope that he might be promoted to ‘any, the least, bishopric, to take me off from the Commons’. However, for the moment this was not practicable, and when Montagu wrote directly to the duke on 29 July, it was merely to request that the bond taken for his bail might be cancelled.61 Cosin Corresp. 78-9; Harl. 7000, f. 197.

On 2 Aug., the Commons’ attack on Montagu resumed at Oxford. Predictably he did not appear as required by the terms of his bail, instead sending a message that he was too ill to attend the House. Heath optimistically proposed that a deputation be sent to the king, who might then be persuaded to order Montagu’s attendance. However, Members were now split over whether simply to pursue the contempt charge, or to address the wider concerns about Montagu’s religious views. As the firmly Calvinist Francis Drake^‡ observed, the official licensing of his books effectively endorsed them as containing orthodox Anglican doctrines, in which case anyone who disagreed was a schismatic. This looked dangerously like the insidious impact of Arminianism in the Netherlands.62 Procs. 1625, pp. 378-80; HP Commons 1604-29, iv. 107-8. While the Commons pondered their next moves, Laud and two other anti-Calvinist bishops, John Buckeridge^* of Rochester (later bishop of Ely) and John Howson^* of Oxford (later bishop of Durham), wrote to Buckingham on Montagu’s behalf, arguing the converse case, that the stability of the Church of England would be undermined if Parliament was allowed to interfere in theological matters. In their view, these were issues fit only for synods or Convocation; the Commons were recklessly promoting beliefs contained in the Lambeth Articles and the resolutions of Dort, which had never been adopted by the Church.63 Harl. 7000, f. 183. A second attempt by the lower House to summon Montagu on 8 Aug. failed, as he was still confined to bed, and Parliament was dissolved with the rival camps still manoeuvring for position.64 Procs. 1625, p. 424.

The York House Conference and 1626 Parliament

Although the king had come to Montagu’s rescue, this did not mean that his continued support was guaranteed. The 1625 Parliament had failed to grant supply on the scale that Charles needed for his war with Spain, and had ended acrimoniously. A further session would be required shortly, and was more likely to prove successful if Members were not distracted by religious controversy. By the autumn, it was clear that the passions stirred up by Montagu were not abating. At Oxford, detailed arguments were prepared to refute his books, while in Cambridge the Lady Margaret professor of divinity, Samuel Ward, wrote a defence of proceedings at the Synod of Dort. A steady stream of books attacking Montagu appeared during the next few months, the authors including John Yates, the 1624 petitioner, the amateur theologian Francis Rous^‡, and Montagu’s own diocesan superior, George Carleton^*, bishop of Chichester. Henry Burton’s A Plea to an Appeale described Appello Caesarem as ‘a disastrous comet [which] portendeth universal ruin both to Church and State’. In marked contrast to this activity, Montagu’s own friends remained silent.65 Cosin Corresp. 79; Bodl. Tanner 72, f. 55; T. Fuller, Church Hist. of Britain, vi. 21-3; Tyacke, 155-6, 158.

In late December, the king was still wavering over how to handle the situation. Initially he considered publishing an ‘apology’ written by Montagu in 1624 in reply to Ward and Yates.66 Cosin Corresp. 23, 80, 83-4; Then, in January 1626 he summoned a meeting of sympathetic bishops, Andrewes, Neile, Laud, Buckeridge, Howson, and George Montaigne^* of London (later archbishop of York), requesting their advice on how to deal with Montagu, and preserve both doctrinal truth and the peace of the Church. They predictably came down firmly on Montagu’s side, insisting that his views were sound, that he himself should be protected, and that the best way to restore quiet was through a total ban on further public debate of the disputed issues.67 Harl. 7000, f. 193. However, at the end of the month, with the next Parliament barely a week away, and public opinion still overwhelmingly against Montagu, Charles changed his mind, and informed Buckingham that he proposed to leave the cleric ‘to stand or fall, according to the justice of his cause’.68 Fuller, Church Hist. vi. 23.

The duke, however, had other ideas. He apparently endorsed Montagu’s decision to stand in January as a London delegate to Convocation, with the backing of Bishop Montaigne. While membership of this body would not prevent further attacks on Montagu by the Commons, it did bring him indisputably within the scope of parliamentary privilege, and made it harder for the lower House to summon him again.69 Cosin Corresp. 85, 89. Meanwhile, at the suggestion of Robert Rich^*, 2nd earl of Warwick, Buckingham agreed to host disputations at his London residence on the most contentious points in Montagu’s books. This ‘York House Conference’ ran over two days, 11 and 17 February, before an audience of peers. In the first debate, the anti-Calvinist case was put by Bishop Buckeridge, Dean White and Cosin, who were thought to have had the better of that day’s arguments about predestination, the sacraments, and the nature of the Roman Catholic Church. Montagu himself contributed only to the second debate, at which his Calvinist opponents successfully regrouped. Pressed over his assertion, contained in both the New Gagg and Appello Caesarem, that predestination to salvation was decreed on the basis that God foresaw the faith of the elect, he conspicuously failed to convince his audience that this was an orthodox Anglican doctrine, and all but retracted the argument. However, the debate then ended inconclusively after the two sides reached stalemate over the efficacy of Christ’s sacrifice on the Cross. ‘Thus the success of these meetings answered neither the commendable intentions, nor hopeful expectations, of such who procured them’. Buckingham was henceforth seen as patron of the anti-Calvinists, and his failure to endorse traditional Anglicanism prompted the duke’s enemies to turn their fire on him instead.70 Fuller, Church Hist. vi. 32-5; Tyacke, 171-80; Davies, 111.

This shift in the political landscape was reflected in Montagu’s treatment during the 1626 Parliament, which was dominated by Buckingham’s impeachment. Three days after the second York House meeting, the Commons’ standing committee for religion decided to revive the process begun against Montagu during the previous session. Several weeks passed while materials were prepared, and it was not until 24 Mar. that the issues surfaced in the House, in the context of a debate on whether the duke was pro-Catholic. Montagu later heard that he had been ‘disavowed’ by Buckingham’s allies on this occasion, which emboldened the Commons to pursue him.71 Procs. 1626, ii. 75, 358-9; Cosin Corresp. 89. On 17 Apr. John Pym delivered a lengthy and detailed report on Montagu’s books, building on the charges levelled at him in 1625, and listing more than 40 points which were deemed to contradict the Thirty-Nine Articles or Book of Homilies, stir up discord and sedition in Church and state, or promote Catholicism. The committee’s recommendation was for Montagu to be ‘presented to the Lords, there to receive punishment according to his demerits’.72 Procs. 1626, iii. 3-9. According to one account, Pym’s eloquence and comprehensiveness silenced Montagu’s allies; ‘no one man spoke in the House but in detestation of him, and his best friends were observed to leave the House before the question came’. However, Pym did not get the outcome he was expecting. A succession of senior Members, many of them of the godly persuasion, such as Christopher Wandesford^‡, Sir George More^‡, Sir Thomas Hoby^‡ and Sir Humphrey May, called for a pause in proceedings so that Montagu could be heard before the Lords became involved, while Sir James Perrot^‡ actually opposed any approach to the upper House, instead proposing that Montagu’s books should be referred to ‘some learned divines’. These counter-arguments effectively derailed Pym’s agenda, suggesting that they were the result of a coordinated move, hatched at court, to dampen down the disputes over Arminianism.73 Birch, i. 96; Procs. 1626, iii. 9-10; Russell, 298-9. Two days later, the Commons approved interrogatories for Montagu, and a petition requesting that he be banned for the time being from publishing any more books. On 20 Apr. the king informed the House that the offending publications would be referred to Convocation, and assured Members that any future books on these topics would be careful perused for any material tending to disturb the peace of Church or State. The strategy first proposed by the bishops in January was starting to take shape.74 Procs. 1626, iii. 24, 30-1; SP16/4/18 [miscalendared as 1625].

At this juncture Montagu was at Windsor, his deliberately low profile enforced by an attack of the stone. Having been tipped off by a friend on the committee for religion, he was fully expecting his case to be referred to the Lords. He also understood that, this time, he would be invited rather than compelled to appear before the Commons, on account of his privilege as a member of Convocation. In the event, he was spared on both counts. The lower House fixed 29 Apr. as the day for him to be questioned, but no summons was issued, and the hearing never took place. Moreover, although the Commons finally agreed to transmit charges to the Lords, Pym was too busy with Buckingham’s impeachment to draft these until mid June. The articles of complaint had still not been delivered when Parliament was dissolved.75 Cosin Corresp. 87-9; Procs. 1626, iii. 72, 98-9, 417, 448. Instead, the final act of this particular drama centred on the Commons’ remonstrance against Buckingham. In the text agreed on 13 June, the royal favourite’s election as chancellor of Cambridge University was blamed on the ‘factious party’ associated with Montagu, of whom ‘the said duke is and long has been an abettor and protector’.76 Procs. 1626, iii. 438-9.

Montagu in limbo, 1626-8

On 14 June 1626, the king issued a proclamation for ‘establishing of the peace and quiet of the Church of England. This noted that recent doctrinal disputes had served to offer encouragement to Catholics, and imposed a blanket ban on the propounding of ‘any new inventions, or opinions concerning religion’.77 Stuart Royal Proclamations II: Chas. I ed. J.F. Larkin, 90-2. Montagu initially assumed that he alone was being targeted, and wrote despondently to Cosin on 27 June that he expected to be left at the mercy of the next Parliament, as a sop to popular opinion. In fact, it soon emerged that Charles was also intent on silencing Calvinist writers, and by August Montagu was back in London, dining with Buckingham. Leaving nothing to chance, he also lobbied the latter’s father-in-law, Francis Manners^*, 6th earl of Rutland, and two of the duke’s leading clients, Sir Thomas Savage^* (later Earl Rivers) and Endymion Porter^‡, all of them Catholics or crypto-Catholics. The diocese of Exeter was currently vacant, and Montagu briefly convinced himself that this lay within his grasp, but Buckingham’s assurances of continuing patronage still did not translate into ecclesiastical preferment. Soon Montagu was lowering his sights again, and confided to Cosin that he would be content with the deanery of St Paul’s or Westminster, though becoming a bishop would afford him more ‘countenance, if anything should happen’. Aware that other anti-Calvinists were being promoted ahead of him, he complained: ‘I have deserved better of the Church. I beat the bush, and others catch the birds’.78 Cosin Corresp. 95-6, 98-9, 101, 103; A. Milton, Catholic and Reformed, 53-4; Birch, i. 116. For more than a year Montagu remained in limbo, intermittently dropping hints to Buckingham about promotion, and endeavouring to stay out of trouble. In a letter probably dating from August 1627, he described himself as ‘one as much obliged to his grace [Buckingham] as one can be who next to God and the king owneth his preservation to him’. A month earlier he informed Cosin that he was about to preach at Windsor on the subject of falling from grace, promising: ‘I shall not Calvinize it, nor yet Arminianize it, but with the Church of England … go the middle way’. Two months later it was said that he would be made dean of Windsor, but nothing came of this rumour. By January 1628, with another Parliament looming, he was still awaiting solid evidence of official favour, and wrote: ‘for aught I know, I stand alone for now’.79 Cosin Corresp. 104, 124-5, 137; Beaumont Pprs. ed. W.D. Macray, 57-8; Birch, i. 267; Add. 4274, f. 103 (dated only 14 Jan., but evidently 1628).

Montagu’s sense of being out on a limb was ironic, for by the time the 1628 parliamentary session opened, he was perceived in the Commons as part of a wider problem. On 24 Mar. the committee for religion discussed a number of troublesome clergy, such as Roger Manwaring^† (later bishop of St Davids), who had preached in support of the unpopular Forced Loan, labelling them all, somewhat indiscriminately, as Arminians. Nevertheless, the main focus for Members throughout this session was the great campaign against arbitrary government. Thus, their attention was divided, and no formal decision to renew the complaints against Montagu was taken until 26 April. The Commons agreed two days later that Montagu should be questioned about his books, but as he was once again a member of Convocation, the House merely invited him to attend the committee for religion if he chose. Predictably, he did not.80 CD 1628, ii. 85-7, 92; iii. 112-13, 131. During the next few days the Commons also investigated complaints that the ban on the publication of controversial books was being enforced only against Calvinist works, but again no firm conclusion was reached.81 Ibid. iii. 151, 213. Not until 11 June did John Pym present a fresh report on Montagu to the Commons, essentially reviving the complaints prepared in 1626, and listing the areas in which his books contradicted the Thirty-Nine Articles and Book of Homilies. The House agreed that these charges should be transmitted to the Lords, but two days later Pym requested more time to prepare, and nothing more was heard of this business.82 Ibid. iv. 43, 236-41, 260-2, 298. Montagu’s name occasionally surfaced during the debates on the new remonstrance against Buckingham, while on 16 June Sir Nathaniel Rich^‡ proposed that the cleric should be exempted from the general pardon. Nevertheless, the only other action agreed against Montagu was an inquiry launched on 13 June into reports that he had criticized celebrations in Windsor, following the king’s final endorsement of the Petition of Right.83 Ibid. iv. 254, 298, 308, 321, 333.

Bishop of Chichester, 1628-9

That confrontation between Parliament and the crown over the future direction of the government encouraged Charles to show more open support for the anti-Calvinist clergy with whom he had gradually been surrounding himself. On 5 July, at Buckingham’s request, he nominated Montagu as the next bishop of Chichester, in succession to the fervently Calvinist George Carleton. This development apparently took Montagu himself by surprise, as two days later he was still mulling over the latest parliamentary attack, and speculating to Cosin on whether their privilege of Convocation would be enough to protect them when the next session convened.84 Fasti, ii. 3; Davies, 41 n. 190; Laud’s Works, iii. 208; Cosin Corresp. 141-2. Inevitably, his elevation to the episcopate proved hugely controversial, to the extent that a godly London printer, William Jones, attempted to obstruct his formal confirmation as bishop on 22 Aug., brandishing objections which drew heavily on the allegations raised in Parliament.85 Fuller, Church Hist. vi. 56-8; SP16/110/66. This protest was overruled, but a more serious setback swiftly followed. On 24 Aug., while Montagu was being consecrated at Lambeth Palace, in the presence of his allies Laud, Neile, Buckeridge and White (now bishop of Carlisle), news arrived of Buckingham’s assassination.86 Laud’s Works, iii. 208.

Montagu’s new status gave him the basic security that he had long craved, but without the backing of his main patron, he was once again vulnerable to political pressure. During the autumn, the Privy Council began discussing what other steps might be taken to ensure that the next session of Parliament was more successful. Montagu had been promised a royal pardon, but Attorney General Heath delayed the paperwork, ostensibly because he had not received the necessary warrant. On 7 Oct. 1628, he wrote privately to Montagu, warning him that this pardon would almost certainly spark off further protests in Parliament, and urging him to make some gesture towards restoring the peace of the Church. If the bishop would revise Appello Caesarem, toning down ‘the acrimony of the style’, and modifying the argument in a more orthodox direction, Heath felt confident that Montagu could be ‘a happy instrument of reconciling and giving a stop to these unhappy differences’. Coming after a public statement of this kind, the pardon would be much less contentious.87 SP16/118/33.

Following Heath’s initiative, the pressure continued to build on Montagu during the next two months. When Laud and his allies persuaded the king to reissue the Thirty-Nine Articles, on the grounds that they were a conveniently broad guide to Anglican orthodoxy, the Calvinists on the Council hit back by demanding concessions from Montagu. On 23 Nov., the latter reported to Cosin that Archbishop Abbot had written to him, warning that Montagu’s ‘great friends’ at court ‘would take no blows’ for him. Four days later, Charles ordered a fresh clampdown on Arminian propaganda. Isolated once more, and fearful that he might be stripped of his bishopric, Montagu finally caved in. In early December he wrote back abjectly to Abbot, subscribing to the Dort resolutions, renouncing the key tenets of Arminianism, and even claiming that parts of Appello Caesarem were the work of other authors.88 R. Cust, ‘Was There an Alternative to the Personal Rule? Chas. I, the Privy Council and the Parl. of 1629’, History, xc. 341-2; Birch, i. 439, 449, 451; ii. 3; Cosin Corresp. 152-3. Word of this recantation spread rapidly, and cleared the way for the king’s final gestures on the eve of the 1629 parliamentary session. Montagu was formally pardoned on 16 Jan., but the next day Charles issued a proclamation suppressing Appello Caesarem as ‘the first cause of those disputes and differences which have … much troubled the quiet of the Church’.89 T. Rymer, Foedera, viii. pt. 3, p. 27; Stuart Royal Proclamations II: Chas. I, 218-20.

Montagu attended the Lords for the first two days of the 1629 session, but then diplomatically withdrew, appearing only twice more, on 3 and 5 February. He awarded his proxy to his old ally, Bishop White of Carlisle. Beyond a formal record of his absence when the House was called on 9 Feb., Montagu made no impression on the Lords’ proceedings.90 LJ, iv. 3a, 25a. Unsurprisingly, he generated rather more business in the Commons. On 29 Jan. Sir John Eliot^‡ denounced Montagu’s appointment as a bishop as a major threat to the Church, since the episcopate had the power to modify Anglican doctrine. The next day the Commons heard a petition from William Jones, who had opposed Montagu’s confirmation. However, the legal niceties of this episode were so complex that an attempted inquiry by the lower House stuttered and died after 9 February.91 CD 1629, pp. 26-7, 36-40, 53-5; HMC Lonsdale, 67; CJ, i. 926a. Meanwhile, on 3 Feb. the committee for religion decided to revive the old complaints against Montagu, and investigate his recent pardon. The picture that emerged was disturbing. Attorney General Heath obligingly confirmed that he had delayed issuing the grant, but had been overruled following the intervention of Bishop Neile and two former Buckingham clients, Edward Sackville^*, 4th earl of Dorset and Dudley Carleton, Viscount Dorchester, Montagu’s old friend. Worse still, Neile had been allowed to redraft the pardon to include three other suspect clergy, Cosin, Manwaring and Robert Sibthorpe. This discovery briefly took the pressure off Montagu himself, as the lower House set its sights on Neile instead. However, on 13 Feb. John Pym briefed the Commons on all the previous complaints gathered against Montagu, lamenting the way in which his behaviour had been rewarded, ‘as if the ready way to obtain a bishopric now were to undermine religion, and to set the Church in combustion’. Ten days later the Commons considered petitioning the king to order the burning of Montagu’s books. It was only the sudden collapse of the session shortly afterwards that prevented further action being taken.92 CD 1629, pp. 34-40, 49-50, 59, 66, 68, 98, 100.

Episcopal government, 1629-38

After all this drama and controversy, Montagu’s decade as bishop of Chichester passed off relatively quietly. He evidently enjoyed having some powers of patronage at last, and in December 1629 offered his friend Viscount Dorchester the lease of an attractive episcopal property on highly favourable terms. Moreover, in 1630 Laud (currently bishop of London) and another rising name of the anti-Calvinist movement, Francis Dee^* (later bishop of Peterborough), were installed as steward and dean of Chichester Cathedral.93 CSP Dom. 1629-31, p. 122; Chapter Acts of Chichester Cathedral 1545-1642 ed. W.D. Peckham (Suss. Rec. Soc. lviii), 241 (which incorrectly identifies the new steward as William Juxon^†, later abp. of Canterbury). Montagu promoted a number of other his friends to prebends, though he was also concerned about standards, and was highly critical in 1632 of one canon, William Hicks, who was shirking his preaching duties and employing unsuitable substitutes, ‘shifters, unconformicants, curates, young boys [and] puritans’.94 A. Foster, ‘The Dean and Chapter 1570-1660’, Chichester Cathedral: an Historical Survey ed. M. Hobbs, 97; SP16/210/36.

In his 1631 visitation articles, Montagu specifically enquired whether the crown’s ban on discussion of religious controversies was being enforced. Predictably, over the course of the next decade he also implemented much of the Laudian liturgical programme. He encouraged the positioning of fonts near church doors, to emphasize the sacramental nature of baptism, and also urged the practice of private confession. However, Montagu compromised over the controversial altar policy, insisting that communion tables should be railed in at the east end of the chancel, but allowing local discretion over where parishioners actually received communion.95 Tyacke, 205-7; Davies, 218, 222; Fincham and Tyacke, 203-4, 211. In 1633 he persuaded Laud, the new archbishop of Canterbury, to change the rules for the collection of donations towards the restoration of St Paul’s cathedral, so that the clergy were no longer assessed by the laity. The next year he complained of the influence of some ‘puritan justices’ in the eastern part of his diocese, who were allegedly imposing their views on local incumbents. However, in general there seems to have been little active resistance to his authority.96 CSP Dom. 1633-4, p. 384; Davies, 77; Laud’s Works, v. 330.

Of course, Montagu could not entirely escape his past, and he remained a hate figure in puritan circles. A rumour in September 1631 that he might replace Laud as bishop of London, a major promotion had it materialized, was greeted by one observer, William Catherens, with the exclamation ‘God forbid’. In 1632, it was reported in Catholic circles that he had been offered a Spanish pension in return for converting to Rome, while two years later a Catholic book emphasizing the similarities between Anglican and Roman doctrines cited his views extensively. He himself was well aware of his reputation. In January 1635, applying to secretary of state Sir Francis Windebank^‡ for permission for his son to visit Rome while abroad, he even joked that if word of this got out, it would be assumed that he was sending the young man to train as a Jesuit.97 Add. 29974 (pt. 1), f. 164; Newsletters from the Caroline Court, 1631-8 ed. M.C.Questier (Cam. Soc. 5th ser. xxvi), 68; Tyacke, 227; CSP Dom. 1634-5, p. 474. In fact, such speculation was closer to the truth than was generally realized. Later that same year, Montagu initiated a series of private conversations with the papal agent, Panzani, discussing the possibility of eventual reunion between the Anglican and Roman churches. However, while the bishop went so far as to propose himself as a potential ambassador to the Papal States, what he envisaged was a loose communion headed by the pope, with the Church of England remaining doctrinally distinct from Rome, a concept entirely unacceptable to the papacy. Once again, Montagu was being politically naïve. While there was talk at court around this time of the desirability of reunion, and Archbishop Laud apparently knew about and tolerated the meetings with Panzani, there was no real prospect of these discussions bearing fruit. Even so, the papal agent concluded that Montagu was worth cultivating, if only in the hope of influencing the narrative of his ecclesiastical history.98 Milton, 227-8, 265-7, 355-9, 364-5, 368; G. Albion, Chas. I and the Ct. of Rome, 413-14. The bishop was now using his spare time to continue work on this project, in which he sought to chart a middle course between both Catholic and Lutheran propaganda, and it was only persistent ill health that prevented him from bringing it to fruition. Two volumes were published by 1640, but the work was still incomplete at his death.99 SP16/219/24; Cosin Corresp. i. 10; Laud’s Works, v. 353; Albion, 413.

Final years, 1638-41

In March 1638, Montagu wrote to Laud, thanking him for his ‘long continued, extraordinary favours’, and giving him permission to use anything he wrote as the archbishop saw fit, with the observation: ‘we are, I know, of the same religion, [and] drive to the same end, though not the same way’. By this time he knew that he was about to become bishop of Norwich, though it took another two months to complete the formalities.100 SP16/386/63. Once settled in East Anglia, he pursued broadly the same policies which he had developed at Chichester, though he was becoming a little more dogmatic with old age. He continued to crack down on any discussion of ‘those much disputed and little understood doctrines of God’s eternal predestination’, and promoted baptism as being of ‘indispensable necessity unto salvation’, contrary to any assumptions about ‘eternal election’. Montagu was coming round to the idea that communion tables should ideally be made of stone, like a traditional Catholic altar, his recent research into early Christianity having persuaded him of the importance of sacrifice as a concept in the eucharist. Nevertheless, he still considered the receiving of communion at the altar rail to be ‘a new, unnecessary, troublesome course, not enjoined by law, not required by canon’, as he complained to Laud at the end of 1638. The archbishop initially overruled him on this issue, but a compromise was eventually agreed whereby communion was administered in close proximity to the altar rail, a policy which Montagu thereafter enforced.101 Tyacke, 206-7; Laud’s Works, iv. 289-90; v. 364; Davies, 220, 222; Fincham and Tyacke, 216-17.

Montagu attended the Short Parliament, during which the Commons heard a petition from Norwich complaining about the thoroughness of his visitation articles.102 Procs. Short Parl. 279; CJ, ii. 6a. However, his health declined rapidly over the next few months, with recurrent fevers, and he was too weak by the autumn to attend the Long Parliament.103 Hay, 473; Fuller, Church Hist. vi. 236; LJ, iv. 92a. By now he had been superseded as a puritan bête-noir by other prelates such as Archbishop Laud and his own predecessor at Norwich, Matthew Wren^†, who bore the brunt of the brunt of the Commons’ early attacks on the anti-Calvinist establishment. Montagu was left in peace until February 1641, when the lower House appointed a committee to review all the previous parliamentary proceedings against him, and to prepare a bill to reverse his 1628 pardon. In the event, no further action was taken.104 LJ, iv. 112a-b; CJ, ii. 91.

Montagu died on 13 Apr., and was buried in Norwich Cathedral. Some of his scholarly projects were still emerging from the press a decade later, but it was for his earlier works of doctrinal controversy that he would be remembered. As Thomas Fuller observed, Montagu was ‘much skilled in the Fathers and ecclesiastical antiquity’, but ‘his great parts were attended with tartness of writing; very sharp the nib of his pen, and much gall in his ink’. What could not be disputed was that he had meted out the same treatment to all his opponents, whether ‘papist or Protestant’, such was the ‘equability of the sharpness of his style’.105 Al. Cant.; Cosin Corresp. 10; Fuller, Church Hist. vi. 15-16.