Part 17

The answerer is of opinion, there is nothing to be done, no satisfaction to be had in matters of religion, without dispute; that is his only recipe, his nostrum for attaining a true belief. But doctors differ in this point: For another witty gentleman of his church[68] desired no other epitaph upon his tomb than this: “Here lies the author of this sentence, _Disputandi pruritus, scabies ecclesiæ_;” the itch of disputation is the scab or tetter of the church. Now, if the learned avail themselves so little of dispute, that it is as rare as a prodigy for one of them to convince another, what shall become of the ignorant, when they are to deal with those fencers of divinity, who can hit them in tierce and quart at pleasure, while they are ignorant how to stand upon their guard? And yet such poor people have souls to save, as precious in the sight of God as the grim logician’s. Must they be damned unless they can make a regular approach to heaven in mood and figure? Is there no entering there without a syllogism? or _ergoteering_ it with a _nego, concedo, et distinguo_? The best on it is, our Saviour’s disciples were but poor fishermen, and we read but of one of his apostles who was bred up at the feet of Gamaliel. I would beseech our answerer to consider, whether he has argued upon his own principles, in affirming, that none can be satisfied as to the grounds of leaving one church and going to the other, without entering into dispute? Has he not allowed, that every man is to interpret the Scripture for himself, in reference to his own salvation? With what face then can he positively say,—“That this lady,” who had not only read the Scriptures, but found them in her judgment plainly to decide the great controversy betwixt Catholics and Protestants, “might not leave his church, and enter into that of Christ, by interpreting ‘this is my body,’ in the literal and obvious meaning?” If, from a Catholic, she had become a Protestant, by expounding those words in a figurative sense, he would have applauded her for not discerning the Lord’s body, and said, she was in the right to interpret for herself. But she, it seems, must be an exception to his general rule, and not have that privilege allowed her, which he dare not deny to any sectary of the nonconformists. The fanatics think the Scripture is clear in all matters of salvation; and if so, what need, say they, of those spiritual directors? Even the pillars of the church by law established, from their own concessions, are found to be but broken staffs; for, after all their undertaking to heal a wounded conscience, when the arrows of the Almighty are stuck into it, they leave their proselytes finally to the Scripture, as our physicians, when they have emptied the pockets of their patients without curing them, send them at last to Tunbridge waters, or the air of Montpellier.

“But if persons be resolved beforehand what to do, (says our answerer,) there is no such way as to declare—they will not enter into dispute.”

Here he would make us believe, that she swallowed a new religion without chewing it, because she disputed not. I have shewed already what is the common fate of disputation. But had she no other way of satisfying her conscience? (as he immediately infers she had not.) If he were not obstinately blind, or rather had not an intention to blind his reader, he might have observed the methods and gradations of her change, and that, though she disputed not, yet she discoursed (which is entering into matter of dispute) with some of the ablest of the English clergy, even with him particularly who was left by the bishop of Winchester to be her spiritual director; by which it plainly appears, notwithstanding all the jugglings and glosses of our answerer, that the better part even of his own prescription was put in practice by her, though without effect, as to her satisfaction. Why, then, does he ask so many idle questions? “Had she no divines of the church of England about her? none able and willing to afford her their utmost assistance?” when she takes care to inform the world that she had such divines, that she imparted her scruples, and, after all, remained unsatisfied with their answers.

“Persons of learning,” indeed, he says, “may possibly be satisfied without entering into disputes of matters which she had neither the leisure to examine, nor the capacity to judge of.”

Then, as I said before, the kingdom of heaven is chiefly, if not only, for the wise and learned of this world, though our Saviour was not of this judgement. But is not every man to be satisfied _pro modulo suo_, according to the measure of his own understanding? Can an ignorant person enter into the knowledge of the mysteries of our faith, when even the most learned cannot understand them? Can the answerer himself unriddle the secrets of the incarnation, fathom the undivided Trinity, or the consubstantiality of the Eternal Son, with all his readings and examinations? From whence comes it then, that he believes them, since neither the scripture is plain about them, nor the wit of man can comprehend them? As for her comparing the doctrines of both churches, no question she did it to the best of her ability; for if he will believe her in any thing, she both read the scriptures, and conferred with the most learned Protestants, before she had any discourses with a Catholic priest. But if she had not, as he rudely says, the capacity of judging in deep controversies, it is very probable she might want that of understanding the instructions of her guides; for, if I may similize in my turn, a dull fellow might ask the meaning of a problem in Euclid from the bishop of Salisbury,[69] without being ever the better for his learned solution of it. So then her capacity will break no squares, at least from the doctrine of the English church, and the Presbyterians, put them both together, as they now stand united; for, either the scriptures are clear, and then a mean capacity will serve to understand them, or, though they are never so obscure, yet the upshot of all is, that every man is to interpret for himself.

What farther quarrel he can have against the lady in this particular, I know not, unless it be upon the bishop of Winchester’s account; namely, that she refused to advise with him, and admitted the two others[70] to a conference; and what reason she had for so doing, if I were as penetrating as my author, I should undertake to demonstrate by the infallible evidence of circumstances and inferences: but since the parties are dead, and so long since, I will not give my own opinion why she refused him, and of what principles she might possibly have thought him. At present I will not trouble myself farther with that prelate of rich memory, whom I warrant you our author would not commend so much for his great abilities and willingness to resolve the lady’s doubts, if he had not some journey-work for him to do hereafter; neither will I meddle much with the long impertinent story of his letter to the duchess, and her silence at Farnham, where she would not consult him in any of her doubts. Whatever great matters are made of these by our answerer, she had a very sufficient reason for not asking his advice, as will instantly be made appear. But now our author is at another of his dodging tricks, comparing times and dates of letters, the bishop’s bearing date the 24th of January, that very year in which she changed; but that he may not puzzle himself too much in reckoning, I will unriddle the matter of fact to him, which I have from a most authentic hand. The duke and duchess were at Farnham in the beginning of September, where they continued about three days, in the year 1670. Her highness’s paper bears date the 20th of August, 1670; by which it is manifest, that it was written twelve or fourteen days before her visit to the bishop. Now where, I beseech you, is the wonder, that she spoke nothing to him concerning any points of a religion in which she was already satisfied? Would any man ask another—what’s o’clock, after he had been just looking upon a sun-dial? So that all his aggravations dwindle at length into this poor inference, that it is evident she did not make use of the ordinary means for her own satisfaction; at least (mark how he mollifies, for fear of being trapped) as to those bishops who had known her longest.

Now this is so pitiful, that it requires no answer; for it amounts to no more than that she liked not the bishop, and therefore, from the beginning, concealed her scruples from him; and she changed her religion the same year, (though before he writ to her,) because she was satisfied of another. But does it follow from hence, as he infers, that, in the mean while, she did not use the ordinary means for her satisfaction? Supposing she had liked the other two bishops as little as she did him, had she no other ordinary means but by those two, or even by any other bishops? Satisfied, to be sure, she was, or she had not changed; and if the means had been wholly extraordinary, from the inspirations of God’s holy spirit only, she had thereby received the greater favour; but not omitting to give God thanks for his supernatural assistance, she used also the ordinary means.

It appears that her first emotions were from her observing the devotions of the Catholics in France and Flanders; and this is no news to any traveller. Ask even our Protestant gentlemen at their return from Catholic countries, and they cannot but confess that the exercises of their devotion, their mortifications, their austerities, their humility, their charity, and in short, all the ways of good living, are practised there in a far greater measure than they are in England; but these are the virtues from which we are blessedly reformed by the example and precept of that lean, mortified apostle, St Martin Luther.

Her first scruples were raised in her by reading Doctor Heylin’s “History of the Reformation,” and what she found in it we shall see hereafter. It appears, that history had given her some new apprehensions; and to satisfy them, she considered of the matters in difference betwixt the Catholics and Protestants; and so considered them, as to examine them the best she could by scripture, which she found to speak clearly for the Catholics; and she, upon our author’s principles, was judge of this: after which, she spoke with two of the best bishops in England, and their doubtful or rather favourable answers, did but add more to the desire she had to be a Catholic. All these ordinary ways she took, before she could persuade herself to send for a priest, whose endeavours it pleased the Almighty so to bless, that she was reconciled to his church, and her troubled conscience was immediately at rest.

I have been forced to recapitulate these things, and to give them the reader at one view; for our answerer is so cunning at his trade, that he shews them only in parcels, and by retail, that it might not be thought she used the ordinary means. One thing I had omitted, which was, that the bishop affirms in his letter to her Highness, that she had made him a promise, in case any writing were put into her hand by those of the Roman church, she would send it either to him or the bishop of Oxford.[71]

Why does our author put down that promise thus at large? If he means any thing more by it, besides a justification of his bishop for having done his part, which signifies just nothing, he would tacitly insinuate that she broke her word, by not sending any such writing to him. If so, he is at his legerdemain again. He would have it thought she kept not her promise, but does not positively affirm it; but since it is manifest, by the order of time in her paper, that she neither sent for any priest, nor conferred with any learned Catholic, till after she had done with the two bishops, it may, and ought to be supposed, that she received no writings from any of that religion; for if she had, she would certainly have mentioned them.

If then the bishop of Winchester would insinuate, that she had such papers, which she sent not to him, according to her engagement, I may at least answer with my author, that the lady was dead long before the bishop published his letter, so that the circumstances therein mentioned cannot be so fully cleared.

But to return to our answerer. He has brought us at length to the several discourses which her Highness had with the two bishops, his Grace of Canterbury, and the bishop of Worcester; and since he has thought fit to put all that concerned this matter into one long paragraph, quoted from the Duchess, I must follow his example. These are her words:—“After this, I spoke severally to two of the best bishops we have in England, who both told me there were many things in the Roman church, which it were very much to be wished we had kept; as confession, which was no doubt commanded of God; that praying for the dead was one of the ancient things in Christianity; that for their parts, they did it daily, though they would not own it. And afterwards, pressing one of them very much upon the other points, he told me—that if he had been bred a Catholic, he would not change his religion; but that being of another church, wherein he was sure were all things necessary to salvation, he thought it very ill to give that scandal, as to leave that church wherein he had received his baptism. All these discourses did but add more to the desire I had to be a Catholic, and gave me the most terrible agonies in the world,” &c.

“This (he confesses) seems to be to the purpose;” and where he confesses the least advantage on our side, the reader may swear there is somewhat more than ordinary in the matter. But he retrenches immediately, and kicks down the pail, by adding this restriction—“if there were not some circumstances and expressions very much mistaken in the representation of it.” Yet in the next line again, as if he were ashamed of his own fearfulness, he is for making a bold sally, and putting all to the push; for, “supposing the utmost to be allowed (says he) there could be no argument from hence drawn for leaving the communion of our church;” but he restrains that too with this caution—“if the bishop’s authority and example did signify any thing with her.” Thus, from yielding at first, he comes to modify his concession, and from thence to strike out magnanimously.

But then he retreats again with another _if_. It is a sign he is uneasy, when he tosses and turns so often in a breath; and that he is diffident of his cause, when he shifts his plea. It is evident that the Duchess laid a great stress on these concessions: and well she might; for what a startle would it give to a doubting soul, which already had taken the alarm, to hear two bishops, whereof one was primate of all England, renouncing and condemning two of the established articles of their church? But it is well known, that those two prelates were not, nor, if they were now living, would be, the only clergymen of the church of England who are of opinion they have over-reformed themselves in casting off prayers for the dead, and consequently, the doctrine of a third place. But these are church of England men of the old stamp; betwixt whom, and the faction of this answerer, there is just as much difference as betwixt a true episcopal man and a latitudinarian; and this latter, in plain terms, is no otherwise different from a presbyterian, than by whatsoever titles and dignities he is distinguished. So that our answerer was much in the right to skip over the first half of this paragraph without answering in this place, and to gallop to the last sentence of it, which begins with Bishop Blandford’s saying,—“That if he had been bred in the communion of the Roman church, he would not change his religion:” whither, as in duty bound, I follow him.

To overbalance the weight of these concessions, our author would have us think, that the subsequent words of the bishop ought to have had greater force to have kept her in the communion of the Protestant church, than the former to have drawn her from it; for the bishop comes off with this excuse,—“That being of another church, wherein he was sure were all things necessary to salvation, he thought it very ill to give that scandal, as to leave that church wherein he received his baptism.”

First, take notice, that the Duchess says, the bishop was pressed by her very much before he made the concession—that if he had been bred a Catholic, he would not have changed; which shews, that a truth was forced out of him, which he would willingly have concealed. For, both in regard to his own credit, and the retaining of so great a person in his church, it was not his interest to have yielded—that a Catholic might be saved, at least on as easy terms as a Protestant. But he goes farther, when he confesses—that if he had been bred a Catholic, he would not have altered his religion; for therein he seems even to regret his being bred a Protestant, at least he yields, that all things necessary to salvation were in the Roman Catholic church; for otherwise, had he been educated in it, he ought, in conscience, to have changed, which he owns he would not have done. Now this is manifestly more than what he said for the church of England; for his following words are rather an excuse for his continuance in his church, than an argument to dissuade her Highness from turning Catholic:—“He thought it very ill to give that scandal to leave the church wherein he was baptized.” Now the word _scandal_, plainly relates to his own person, and signifies no more than that he was ashamed to change; for it was impossible for him to think he should sin against his conscience in changing, who had declared—that he would not have changed, in case he had been bred a Catholic. And the reason he gives is made of the same yielding metal, viz. that he had his baptism in the Protestant church; for that argument in itself is of no weight, since the right reverend well knew that the baptism even of heretics is good; so that, if he had been christened in the Lutheran, the Abyssine, or the Russian church, he must for that reason have continued in it. But he timorously pleads his fear of giving scandal, which is, as I said, no justification of himself, no dissuasive to her, but only a mean, interested apology for his not changing.

As for his intimating,—that all things necessary to salvation were to be had in the church of England, let any reasonable man be judge whether he could possibly have said less in defence of himself for continuing in it; for this only shewed, that he thought salvation was to be had in both churches, as even this author himself is forced to confess afterwards, in these words: “The utmost that can be made of this is, that a certain bishop of our church” [who in the mean time has proved himself an uncertain one,] “held both churches so far parts of the Catholic church, that there was no necessity of going from one church to another.”

That which he calls—the utmost we can make of it, is in truth the least which the bishop’s words will naturally bear; and I may safely put the cause upon this issue,—whether such a discourse might not reasonably add more to the desire she had to be a Catholic?

Let us hear now what he has to answer; and I will reply briefly, because I have taken away the strength of his argument already.

First, he says in effect, That the bishop’s authority and example ought to have prevailed with her on the one side, more than his concessions on the other.

I reply—Not his authority, because he spoke more for the church of Rome than against it: nor his example, for he gave her no encouragement to follow it, by saying, that if he had been bred a Catholic, he would not have changed. His example of praying daily for the dead shewed his opinion at the bottom; but his not publicly owning that he did so, has proved him little better than a black bishop, who has entered privately into the white one’s walk.[72]

Our author asks, in the second place,—Why any person should forsake the communion of the Protestant church, wherein the bishop affirmed were all things necessary to salvation? And I enquire, How she could be bound to believe him, since confession, and prayers for the dead, are wanting in it? one of which he had before acknowledged to be commanded of God; the other, to be one of the ancient things in Christianity!

Thirdly, he urges, That the bishop had told her, it was an ill thing to leave the church of England. And I reply, That the answerer has falsified his words. “The bishop only thought it very ill to give that scandal, as to leave the church wherein he was baptized.” First, he spoke of himself only, not of her. Mark that fallacy. And then he said not,—it was ill to leave the church; but—very ill to give that scandal, as to leave the church; relating again to his own particular.

Fourthly, he says, It is evident that the bishops could have no influence upon her; though she positively says those discourses, in which were those concessions, did but add more to the desire she had to be a Catholic. This is full upon the vizor[73]; but the dead are to take all things patiently. Well! How, if he can convince her of falsity from her own words? why then he will carry his argument, as well as his good manners, to the height; and how broad soever the word may be which he has slily given her, yet he will tell you, that freedom ought to be permitted him, as sustaining the honour of the church of England.

His argument is this: “She declares afterwards, that she would not have changed, if she had thought it possible otherwise to have saved her soul; but the bishop had told her, that all things necessary for salvation were in the English church; therefore the bishop contributed nothing to her change.”

So the mitre be safe in its reputation, no matter what becomes of the ducal coronet. Now I can be very well content that the bishop should have no part in the honour of her conversion; for it is plain that he desired it not; and why should he do good against his will?