Part 18

I wish my author would have furnished me with an argument to have brought him wholly off; but I will bring him on his way as far as by the help of the answerer’s scarf I can fairly drag him. I say therefore, that though her Highness changed not her belief upon the concessions of the bishop, yet his concessions were an occasion of her farther scruples, in order to her change; for, she says, “they added to the desire she had to be a Catholic.”

The bishop did indeed tell her, that all things necessary to salvation were in the English church; but tell me, Sir, I beseech you, was that all he told her? By your favour, you have left out the better half of what he said; for he told her also, “that if he had been bred a Catholic, he would not have changed.” And she had reason to believe what he said to the advantage of a church of which he was no member, as being sure he would say no more than scanty truth. And he acknowledges into the bargain, that “confession was commanded of God;” and, that “praying for the dead was one of the ancient things in Christianity.” What a shameful way of arguing is this, to make a general negative conclusion from half the premises? or, in other words, to maintain, that the bishop’s concessions could have no influence upon her, because they had not the greatest influence? And you in a manner confess it before you were aware, in the close of your argument, where you say, “There must therefore have been some more secret reason, which increased her desire to be a Catholic, after these discourses.” Now some more secret reason does not hinder the bishop’s concessions from being one; nay, it argues, that they were one of the reasons, though not the most prevalent, because there was one more secret. You have now contradicted yourself so plainly, that you have wholly justified the Duchess; and the broad word, without naming it, is fairly brought back to your own door.

After this, our answerer does but piddle, and play at small game, as if her Highness might possibly take encouragement from the bishop’s calling the church of Rome the Catholic religion; but she was too much in earnest to lay hold upon a word. Neither is more advantage to be taken from his calling the church of Rome the Catholic religion, than we receive disadvantage from the playing upon the word of Roman Catholic.

Next, for want of a quarrel, he is falling upon his late dear friend the bishop: “Was he,” says our answerer, “so weak, to mean the word _Catholic_ in the strictest sense, he must then have contradicted himself; there was an inconsistency in his words,”—and so forth.

From the inconsistency of the bishop’s words in this and other places, our answerer, perhaps, would make a secret inference, that he never said them; and obliquely draw the Duchess into the statute of coining; so that the two spiritual hectors may make a sham-duel of it, for aught we know. For it is a common trick with robbers to clash their swords together in the dark, to draw company together, and then some third person pays for it. Take it in this manner, and then the argument against her Highness will stand thus: the sayings which she relates are inconsistent, and therefore she must not be believed, though she affirms she heard them. Why, do not as many as have ears hear inconsistent things said every day? and must every body needs lie, who reports them again? That inconsistency of the words is, in truth, an argument, that these things were said; for what bids fairer for adding to the desire she had of being a Catholic, and of giving her the terrible agonies she felt? But after all, if the answerer’s quarrel be in earnest with the bishop, it is pity they should fall out for such a trifle. As weak as the bishop was, and as strong as our answerer makes his inconsistencies appear, I dare answer for him, he meant nothing less than to convert her.

You do ill therefore, to play the bully with a peaceable old gentleman, who only desired to possess his conscience and his bishopric in peace, without offence to any man, either of the Catholic church, or that of England.

But if he held, that both churches were so far parts of the Catholic, that there was no necessity of going from one church to another to be saved, if he asserted that you say, he must overthrow the necessity of your Reformation; and then down goes his belief of your homilies and articles, (thirty-nine at a tip,) and consequently he could be no true member of the church of England.

And now what can I do more for the poor bishop? for most certainly he did imply thus much in saying, that “if he had been bred a Catholic, he would not change his religion.” Therefore, Take him, Topham![74] there’s no help, but he must be turned out of the church of England, even so long after he has been dead.

In the mean time, let us a little examine this proposition. Our answerer affirms, “That he cannot be a true member of the church of England, who asserts both churches to be so far parts of the Catholic church, that there is no necessity of going from one church to another to be saved.” If this be true, then, to be a member of the church of England, one must assert,—that either both churches are not parts of the Catholic, or that they are so parts, that there is a necessity of going from one to another. Of these two, the first is not for the honour of one of the churches, and the second is direct nonsense. A necessity of change consists not with their being both parts; for parts constitute one whole, and leave not one and another, to go to or from. There is no church in France or Italy, to which a Spanish Catholic can go, but what he left in Spain; nor can he leave his own, by going to either of them. He may be under other governors in the same church; but let him go wheresoever he shall please, he cannot be of another, so long as he remains a Catholic. In short, necessity of change makes it absolutely impossible for both churches to be parts of the Catholic, and forces the church of England to maintain—either that she is a part, and the Roman Catholic none, or else that it is no matter whether she be a part or no; to which I wish they may not, with the pretence of zeal for her honour, desire to drive her, who have nothing better to say in their own behalf.

But though our answerer has laid one bishop flat, I warrant you he has another in reserve; for now the bishop of Winchester (who, as I said formerly, was not commended so much for nothing,) is brought back in triumph from his palace of Farnham, to make a short end of the dispute. At first he doubts, whether ever there were any such bishops who made such answers; and then affirms, that he believes there never was _in rerum naturâ_ such a discourse as is pretended to have been betwixt this great person and two of the most learned bishops in England.

This is downright indeed; for our answerer, to do him justice, has often collaterally accused the Duchess for her good invention at making stories: but here is plain English upon the point. What pity is it, in the mean time, that my Lord of Winton gives not so much as one single reason, either for his doubt, or his contrary belief? So that having only his lordship’s opinion, and her highness’s affirmation before me, I might say, with at least as much good manners as that prelate, that I believe as little of his pretended letter sent to the Duchess so long after her decease, as he does of her pretended discourse with the two bishops.

In the mean time, what use would my gentleman here make of his lordship’s doubts, his belief, or his affirmation? Are the embers too hot for him, that he uses the bishop’s foot to pull out the chesnut? Suppose our prelate had believed there were no Antipodes, is this a time of day to give him credit? But I wonder the less why our author attributes so much to his _ipse dixit_ upon all occasions; for the whole body of his answer to this paper is in effect a transcript from the bishop’s preface. He purloins his arguments, without altering, sometime, so much as the property of his words. He has quoted him five times only in the margin, and ought to have quoted him in almost every line of his pamphlet. In short, if the master had not eaten, the man (saving reverence) could not have vomited. But it is easy to be seen through all the grimaces of that bishop, that he found himself aggrieved he was not thought on, when her Highness spoke of the two best or most learned bishops of England; and that his opinion was not consulted, when, indeed, he had offered it, though unasked.

I know his defender will reply, that his lordship has modestly disclaimed any such pretence to learning, in his preface, where he says, “No, I am not, I know I am not, I am sure I am not the most learned bishop.” See, how he mounts in his expressions at three several bounds. It is true, all these asseverations, like his three _nolos_,[75] needed not; for any reasonable man, who had read his works, would have taken his bare word, without repetition. Yet this notwithstanding, he might have some inward grudgings, that his pupil thought him not so great a doctor.[76]

But it is not fit that a matter of such importance should end in a bare _Ay_ and _No_ on either side; for though the parties have been so long dead, yet there is a witness still alive, and such a one, that all loyal subjects are bound to join with me in prayers for the long continuance of his life, and even for his continuance in the true religion, as far as the English liturgy can oblige them.

The Duchess thought herself bound to make his Royal Highness acquainted with every one of these several conferences which she had either with archbishop Sheldon, or bishop Blandford; and that account was the very same in substance with what she communicates to her friends in this present paper, as he is pleased to permit me to assure the world, after having had the honour to hear him solemnly affirm it, which puts an end to the whole matter of dispute; and this which follows is as authentic.

The day it pleased Almighty God to call her to his mercy, some relations of hers, who are yet living,[77] were desirous that she should speak with the bishop of Worcester; which the Duchess did not absolutely refuse upon their importunity, but requested the then Duke to stop the bishop a little in the antechamber, and prepare him, according to her directions, before he entered the bedchamber. Accordingly his Highness, having met the bishop, acquainted him, “that she was actually reconciled to the Catholic church:” he then enquired, “whether she were fully satisfied in all points of the doctrine which she had embraced?” and the Duke answered, “that she was entirely satisfied in the doctrine of the Catholic church.” At length the bishop asked, “whether she had already received the last sacraments of the church?” naming particularly those of the blessed Eucharist, and the Extreme Unction; and it being replied by the Duke, that she had received them, the bishop answered, “That then he doubted not but that her soul was in a very safe condition.” Before they parted, his Royal Highness told him, “That it was the desire of the Duchess, he would not trouble her with any matter of dispute, nor offer to pray with her; but if he had any spiritual counsel fitting for a person in her condition, in order to prepare her for her death, he might freely tender it:” upon this he was admitted to her bedchamber, and made her a brief exhortation; after which, his stay there was very short.[78]

This being matter of fact, and of unquestionable truth, I hope the answerer will acquiesce in it. What he will think of his bishop, concerns not me; but as a Protestant, he has reason for his thanking God, that the cause of his church does not depend on the singular opinion of one bishop in it. It appears plainly by this relation, that the bishop of Worcester was ignorant, almost to the last, of her conversion; so that if that will serve our author’s turn, he is acquitted from intending any such act of charity; but that he contributed to it without any such intention, is apparent.

Yet our author will not so sit down; he will condemn her Highness from her own words again; and prove, from her saying,—“that she owed the blessing of her conversion to God Almighty,” that therefore the bishop could have no hand in it.

What obligation has he to defend the honour of his church by a piece of sophistry? She owed it wholly to Almighty God; for “of ourselves we can do nothing.” But, as the answerer confesses, this excluded not her own endeavours; God inspired her with a desire of being reconciled to his church, in answer to her frequent prayers,—not by immediate illumination, or shewing her the right belief miraculously, but by affording her the ordinary means, and conducting her by his good spirit in the use of them. If she had been immediately enlightened, she needed not to have recourse to any of the bishops; but it pleased God, who often works good out of evil, that the arguments they used, or rather the answers which they made, produced a contrary effect, and added more to the desire she had to be a Catholic: in this sense, therefore, it may be said, that the bishops sent her to the priest; for an unresistable, overruling power made them contribute to her change, by opposing it; and the very hands which laboured to hold her fast in the Protestant persuasion, carried her half seas over, and put her into other hands, which carried her the other half. Truly they would have received hard measure, if they had been found guilty on the statute of persuasion, who, far from endeavouring to make her change, dissuaded her from changing, though the Protestant flints happened to strike Catholic fire; so that I cannot but think there was an extraordinary hand of Providence in her case, and of which she had reason to be extraordinary sensible. But we must have, I perceive, a care of praying, and owning benefits from God; for that, or nothing, made her pass for an enthusiast with the answerer; she did nothing besides praying, which our author does not acknowledge it her duty to have done. She read the history which was put into her hands, to confirm her in her first belief; she examined the scripture; she conferred with her divines; and yet he can make an obstinate woman of her, for doing that very thing to which he would advise her. “But,” says our author, “all pretenders to enthusiasm do as solemnly and wholly ascribe the blessing to Almighty God, and look on it as the effects of such prayers as she made to him in France and Flanders.”

They ascribe it indeed wholly to God in our author’s sense, but not in her’s; for she meant not immediate illumination by the word _wholly_, as I have already proved; they may look on their false light as the effect of their prayers; but she looks on her conversion as the effect of her’s, after having used the means.

“He had thought,” he says, “that the pretence to a private spirit, or enthusiasm,” (for he joins them both afterwards,) “had not been at this time allowed in the church of Rome.”

Somebody once thought otherwise, or he had never diverted the young gallants of the town with his merry book, concerning the fanaticism of the church of Rome.

He next enquires, what need she had of an infallible church, if she owed her change so wholly to Almighty God?

_Wholly_ is already explained to him, and then his argument is of no more force against her, than against all Catholics who have once been Protestants; which is a new subject of dispute, and foreign to the argument in hand.

“Her conclusion,” as he tells us, “is, that she would never have changed, if she could have saved her soul otherwise;” whereupon he infers, “if this were true, she had good reason for her change; if it were not true, (as most certainly it was not,) she had none.”

But her words (which he hath falsified in this place) are these: “I would never have changed, if I had thought it possible to have saved my soul otherwise.” He never misquotes without design. Now by altering these words—_if I had thought it possible to save my soul_, into these—_if I could have saved my soul_, he would shuffle off her true meaning; which was, that her conscience obliged her to this change. And that is a point he would not willingly have touched; for he cannot deny, upon his own principles, but that, after having examined the scriptures, as she professes to have done as well as she was able, concerning the points in dispute, and afterwards using the assistance of her spiritual guides, the two bishops, she was to judge for herself in the last resort; and the judgment she made, according to her conscience, was, that the scripture spoke clearly in behalf of the Catholic church, or church of Rome, as he calls it: therefore, according to his principles, and her conscience, she was to be of that church, of whose truth she was thus convinced; so that whether she could be otherwise saved or no, was not the proposition to be advanced, but whether she thought it possible to be otherwise saved. And therefore, though it were true that she could otherwise be saved, yet she had a sufficient reason for her change, (though he says she had none,) which was, her conscience; and supposing that were erroneous, yet, upon his principles, she must be the judge of it without appeal.

“Her scruples began upon reading Dr Heylin’s ‘History of the Reformation;’ and there she found such abominable sacrilege upon Harry the Eighth’s divorce, King Edward’s minority, and Queen Elizabeth’s succession, that she could not believe the Holy Ghost could ever be in such councils.” Thus he compendiously quotes her paper, as being, it seems, ashamed of the particulars therein mentioned; but for once I will follow him his own way.

To read Dr Heylin’s history, in order to settle her, he confesses, was none of the best advices given to such a person. He is much in the right on’t, as appears by the success; and I add, nor any other, either Protestant or Catholic writer then extant; for no paint is capable of making lovely the hideous face of the pretended Reformation. “But,” says he, “there are two distinct parts in the history of it, the one ecclesiastical, the other political; the first built on scripture, antiquity, and the rights of particular churches; the other on such maxims as are common to statesmen at all times, and in all churches, who labour to turn all revolutions and changes to their own advantage.”

But why might not her Highness consider it her own way, which is that of nature, in the causes which produced it, and the effects which it produced; though I doubt not but she considered it his way too, because a child could not have missed it, that very distinction being inserted into the history by the author himself. Now the immediate cause which produced the separation of Harry the Eighth from the church of Rome, was the refusal of the Pope to grant him a divorce from his first wife, and to gratify his desires in a dispensation for a second marriage. Neither the answerer, nor I, nor any man, can carry it so high as the original cause with any certainty; for the king only knew whether it was conscience and love, or love alone, which moved him to sue for a divorce. But this we may say, that if conscience had any part in it, she had taken a long nap of almost twenty years together before she awakened, and perhaps had slept on till doomsday, if Anne Bolleyn, or some other fair lady, had not given her a jog: so the satisfying of an inordinate and a brutal passion cannot be denied to have had a great share at least in the production of that schism, which led the very way to our pretended Reformation; for breaking the unity of Christ’s church was the foundation of it.

I pass over the manner of those first proceedings, and the degrees by which they came to terminate in schism, though I doubt not but her Highness was sufficiently scandalized in both, and could not also but observe some of the concomitant causes, as revenge, ambition, and covetousness; all which, and others, drew with a strong bias towards it. But the immediate effects, even of this schism, were sacrilege, and a bloody persecution of such as denied the king’s supremacy in matters wholly spiritual; which no layman, no king of Israel, ever exercised, as is observed by my Lord Herbert[79]. As for the Reformation itself, what that produced is full as obvious in the sequel of history, where we find that chanteries and hospitals, undevoured by Henry the Eighth, were left only to be morsels for Edward the Sixth, or rather for his ministers of state; and the reason was given, that the revenues of them were fruitlessly spent on those who said prayers for the dead. Now this was as naturally produced from the Reformation, as an effect is from the cause; so that, as it is observed by some, had that young king reigned any considerable time longer, the church of England had been left the poorest of any one in Christendom; the rich bishopric of Durham having been much retrenched by him, and it is probable those of Rochester and Westminster. Harry the Eighth had indeed eaten so much of the church’s bread out of his son’s mouth beforehand, that even Calvin complains of it in a letter to Cranmer, (concerning the paucity of good pastors in England,) in these words: _Unum apertum obstaculum esse intelligo, quod prædæ expositi sunt ecclesiæ redditus_; “one open obstacle I find to this, (he meaneth the increase of good pastors,) is, that your church revenues are exposed to rapine.”

Besides these things, what an usurpation this change of religion caused is most notorious; that of the Lady Jane Gray being evidently grounded on the testament of Edward the Sixth, by which she was made his successor, because she was of the Protestant religion.