Chapter VIII: Part 8

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?

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.

As for the title of Queen Elizabeth to the crown, the histories lie open; and I shall not be over-forward to meddle with the rights of princes, especially since the answerer has avoided that dispute. It is enough in general to say, that her interest carried her against the Pope, whose power if good, she was illegitimate. She had also been informed by the English resident at Rome, that the Pope expected she should acknowledge her crown from him, and not take upon her to be queen without his leave. These were strong solicitations, in a new unsettled succession, for her to shake off a religion, whereof his Holiness is head on earth. What matter of conscience was in the case, I say not; but her temporal interest lies bare-faced and uppermost to view, in reassuming of the supremacy, and (to make the breach yet wider) in subverting the foundations of the faith. For the affront is the same, to turn round a man’s hat, and to strike him on the face; but the advantage is the greater in a lusty blow.

But the handle by which our answerer would have the Reformation taken, is not by the causes and effects, the means and management, and indeed the whole series of history: these are nothing to concern his present enquiry, though they raised such scruples in the Duchess, and will do in any other conscientious reader; he will have the Reformation considered his own way, that is, in the political part of it, and the ecclesiastical. Now the political part (if you observe him,) he gives for gone at the first dash: “It was grounded,” he says, “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.”

That is, it is common for statesmen to be atheists at the bottom; to be seemingly of that religion which is most for their interest; to crush and ruin that from which they have no future prospect of advantage, and to join with its most inveterate enemies, without consideration of their king’s interest: and this was the case of the Duke of Somerset. All which together amounts to this; that it is no matter by what means a Reformation be compassed, by what instruments it be brought to pass, or with what design, though all these be never so ungodly; it is enough if the Reformation itself be made by the legislative power of the land. The matter of fact then is given up, only it is faced with recriminations; that Alexander the Sixth, for example, was as wicked a Pope as King Henry was a king: as if any Catholic denied, that God Almighty, for causes best known to his divine wisdom, has not sometimes permitted impious men to sit in that supreme seat, and even to intrude into it by unlawful means. That Alexander the Sixth was one of the worst of men, I freely grant; which is more than I can in conscience say of Henry the Eighth, who had great and kingly virtues mingled with his vices. That the Duke of Somerset raised his estate out of church lands, our author excuses no other ways than by retorting, that Popes are accustomed to do the like in consideration of their nephews, whom they would greaten. But though it is a wicked thing for a Pope to mispend the church revenues on his relations, it is to be considered he is a secular prince, and may as lawfully give out of his temporal incomes what he pleases to his favourite, as another prince to his. But as our author charges this miscarriage home upon some late Popes of the former and the present age, so I hope he will exempt his present Holiness[80] from that note. No common father of God’s church, from St Peter even to him, having ever been more bountiful, in expending his revenues for the defence of Christendom; or less interested, in respect of his relations, whom he has neither greatened, nor so much as suffered to enter into the least administration of the government.

But after all, what have these examples to do with this lady’s conversion? Why, our author pretends, that these bad Popes, and their ill proceedings, ought as reasonably to have hindered the Duchess from entering into the Catholic church, as the like proceedings under Henry the Eighth, Edward the Sixth, and Queen Elizabeth, might move her Highness to leave the Protestant.

The subject in hand was the pretended Reformation: the Duchess observed the scandalous and abominable effects of it;—that an inordinate lust was one principal cause of the separation; that the Reformation itself was begun by worldly interests in the Duke of Somerset, and carried on by the ambition of Queen Elizabeth. Have the examples produced by our author on the contrary side any thing to do with a Reformation? Suppose, in the first place, that she had never read nor heard any of those things concerning Pope Alexander, or the advancing of nephews by profusion of the church treasure; the first is very possible, and she might interpret candidly the latter. But make the worst of it; on the one side there was only a male administration of a settled government, from which no state, either spiritual or temporal, can always be exempt; on the other side, here is a total subversion of the old church in England, and the setting up a new; a changing of received doctrines, and the direction of God’s holy spirit pretended for the change; so that she might reasonably judge that the Holy Ghost had little to do with the practices of ill popes, without thinking the worse of the established faith: but she could never see a new one erected on the foundations of lust, sacrilege, and usurpation, without great scruples whether the spirit of God were assisting in those counsels.