I have now done as to matter of reason and argument:[85] the third
paper chiefly relates to matter of fact; which, if I were mistaken in,
even the brisk defender of it doth me that right to say, the bishop of
Winchester did mislead me: For “the whole body of my answer,” he saith,
“is in effect a transcript from the bishop’s preface; that I purloin his
arguments without altering sometime so much as the property of his words;
that I have quoted him five times only in the margin, and ought to have
quoted him in almost every leaf of my pamphlet; in short, if the master
had not eaten, the man (saving reverence) could not have vomited.” This
is a taste of the decency and cleanliness of his style, especially in
writing for princes and great ladies, who are not accustomed to such a
sort of courtship to others, in their presence; but, as coarse as the
compliment is, it clears me from being the author of any mistakes, and
lays the blame on the bishop, who is not able to answer for himself: yet,
as if I had been the sole contriver and inventor of all, he bestows those
civil and obliging epithets upon me, of “disingenuous, foul-mouthed,
and shuffling;” one of “a virulent genius, of spiteful diligence, and
irreverence to the royal family, of subtle calumny and sly aspersion;”
and he adds to these ornaments of speech, “that I have a cloven foot,
and my name is Legion;”[86] and that my answer is an “infamous libel, a
scurrilous saucy pamphlet.” Is this, indeed, the spirit of a new convert?
Is this the meekness and temper you intend to gain proselytes by, and
to convert the nation? He tells us in the beginning, that “truth has a
language peculiar to itself:” I desire to be informed, whether these be
any of the characters of it, and how the language of reproach and evil
speaking may be distinguished from it? But zeal in a new convert is a
terrible thing; for it not only burns, but rages like the eruptions
of Mount Ætna: it fills the air with noise and smoke, and throws out
such a torrent of liquid fire, that there is no standing before it. The
answerer alone was too mean a sacrifice for such a Hector in controversy:
all that standeth in his way must fall at his feet. He calls me Legion,
that he may be sure to have number enough to overcome. But he is a great
proficient indeed, if he be such an exorcist to cast out a whole legion
already. But he hopes it may be done “without fasting and prayer.”
If the people continue stedfast to their religion, they are the rabble,
and the only friends I can perceive he allows us. “My good friends the
rabble,” in one place, and in another, “our author knows he has all the
common people of his side.” What! nothing of honour, or dignity, or
wit, or sense, or learning, left of our side? Not so much as a poet,
unless it be Robin Wisdom. I pray, sir, when was it that all our friends
degenerated into the rabble? Do you think that heresy, as you call it,
doth _ipse facto_ degrade all mankind, and turn all orders of men, even
the House of Lords itself, to a mere rabble? If all the common people be
of our side, we have no reason to be troubled at it. But there is another
thing of our side which you like worse, and that is common sense, which
is more useful to the world than school divinity. But methinks he should
not be angry with the common people, when he takes such pains to prove,
“that the kingdom of heaven is not only for the wise and learned,”[87]
and that “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, and
that poor people have souls to save, as precious in the sight of God
as the grim logicians.” Would not any one take this for an apology for
the common people, rather than for the Duchess of York, whose wit and
understanding put her far beyond the need of such a mean defence? Could
she be vindicated in no other manner than by putting her into the rank of
the persons of the meanest capacities? But this is another part of the
decency of this defence. He had several pretty sayings, as he thought,
upon this subject; and therefore out they come, without regarding the
reflection implied in them on a person of her capacity, as well as
dignity. And so he goes on, in his plea for the ignorant, _i.e._ for the
common people, as I am resolved to understand it. “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_?”[88] This may pass for wit and eloquence
among those I think he pleads for; and so I am content to let it go,
for the sake of my friends, the common people. But this is somewhat an
unusual way of defending, to plead for those he professes to despise, and
in such a manner as to reproach the person he undertakes to defend.
From the common people we come to churchmen, to see how he uses them.
And he hath soon found out a faction among them, whom he charges
with “juggling designs;”[89] but romantic heroes must be allowed to
make armies of a field of thistles, and to encounter wind-mills for
giants. He would fain be the instrument to divide our clergy, and to
fill them with suspicions of one another; and to this end he talks of
men of a “latitudinarian stamp:” For it goes a great way towards the
making divisions, to be able to fasten a name of distinction among
brethren,—this being to create jealousies of each other. But there is
nothing should make them more careful to avoid such names of distinction,
than to observe how ready their common enemies are to make use of them,
to create animosities by them; which hath made this worthy gentleman to
start this different character of churchmen among us, as though there
were any who were not true to the principles of the church of England,
as by law established. If he knows them, he is better acquainted with
them than the answerer is, for he professes to know none such. But who
then are these men of the “latitudinarian stamp?” To speak in his own
language, they are a sort of “ergoteerers, who are for a _concedo_ rather
than a _nego_.” And now I hope they are well explained: Or, in other
words of his, “they are,” saith he, “for drawing the nonconformists to
their party,” _i.e._ they are for having no nonconformists. And is this
their crime? “But they would take the headship of the church out of the
king’s hands.” How is that possible? They would (by his own description)
be glad to see differences lessened, and all that agree in the same
doctrine to be one entire body. But this is that which their enemies
fear, and this politician hath too much discovered; for then such a party
would be wanting, which might be played upon the church of England, or
be brought to join with others against it. But how this should touch the
king’s supremacy, I cannot imagine. As for his desiring loyal subjects to
consider this matter, I hope they will, and the more for his desiring it;
and assure themselves, that they have no cause to apprehend “any juggling
designs of their brethren,” who, I hope, will always show themselves to
be loyal subjects, and dutiful sons of the church of England.
The next he falls upon, is the worthy answerer of the bishop of Condom’s
exposition, and him he charges “with picking up stories against him, and
wrapping them up with little circumstances.”[90] How many fields doth
he range for game, to find matter to fill up an answer, and make it
look big enough to be considered? But that author hath so well acquitted
himself in his defence, as to all the little objections made against him,
that I can do the reader no greater kindness than to refer him to it.
I must not say, the _poor_ bishop of Winchester is used unmercifully by
him, for he calls him “that prelate of rich memory;”[91] as though, like
some popes, he had been considerable for nothing but for leaving a rich
nephew. But as he was a person of known loyalty, piety, and learning, so
he was of great charity, and a public spirit, which he showed, both in
his lifetime, and at his death. Could nothing be said of him, then, but
“that prelate of rich memory?” or, had he a mind to tell us he was no
poet? or, that he was out of the temptation of changing his religion for
bread?
The bishop of Worcester is charged with downright prevarication,
_i.e._ being in his heart for the church of Rome, but for mean reasons
continuing in the communion of the church of England. “Therefore,”
saith he, “take him, Topham; and now what can I do more for the poor
bishop?”[92] The most he will allow him is, “that he was 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.” Yet he hath so much kindness left for the poor bishop,
that for his sake he goes about to defend, “that a man may 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.”[93]
This is a very surprising argument from a new convert. Why might he not
then have continued still in the communion of this church, though he
might look on the church of Rome as part of the Catholic church? The
reason I gave against it was, that every true member of this church must
own the doctrine of it contained in the Articles and Homilies, which
charge the church of Rome with such errors and unlawful practices, as no
man who believes them to be such, can continue in the communion of that
church; and therefore he must believe a necessity of the forsaking of one
communion for the other; and that no true member of this church can, with
a good conscience, leave this church, and embrace the other.
Let us now see what a talent he hath at ergoteering: “If this be true,”
saith he, “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.”
He would be a strange member of the church of England, who should hold,
that both churches are not parts of the Catholic, for then he must deny
that parts are parts; for every true church is so far a part of the
Catholic church. Therefore, I say, he must hold, though it be in some
respects a part of the Catholic church, yet it may have so many errors
and corruptions mixed with it, as may make it necessary for salvation to
leave it. “The second,” he saith, “is nonsense.” How nonsense? He doth
well to hope, that men may be saved that do not understand controversy,
nor approach heaven in mood and figure. “A necessity of a change,” saith
he, “consists not with their being parts, for parts constitute one whole,
and leave not one and another to go to or from.” We are not speaking of
the parts leaving one another, but of a person leaving one part to go to
another. Suppose a pestilential disease rage in one part of the city,
and not in another, may it not be necessary to leave one part, and go
to the other, though they are both parts of the same city, and do not
remove from one to the other? But he saith, with great assurance, “that
necessity of change makes it absolutely impossible for both churches to
be parts of the Catholic,” which plainly shews he never understood the
terms of communion with both churches; for no church in the world can lay
an obligation upon a man to be dishonest, _i.e._ to profess one thing,
and to do another, which is dissimulation and hypocrisy; and no church
can oblige a man to believe what is false, or to do what is unlawful; and
rather than do either, he must forsake the communion of that church.
Thus I have given a sufficient taste of the spirit and reasoning of this
gentleman.
As to the main design of the third paper, I declared that I considered
it, as it was supposed, to contain the reasons and motives of the
conversion of so great a lady to the church of Rome.
But this gentleman hath now eased me of the necessity of further
considering it on that account: for he declares, “that none of those
motives or reasons are to be found in the paper of her Highness,”[94]
which he repeats several times. “She writ this paper, not as to the
reasons she had herself for changing, &c. As for the reasons of it, they
were only betwixt God and her own soul, and the priest with whom she
spoke at last.”[95]
And so my work is at an end as to her paper; for I never intended to
ransack the private papers, or secret narratives, of great persons; and
I do not in the least question the relation now given, from so great
authority as that he mentions, of the passages concerning her; and
therefore I have nothing more to say as to what relates to the person of
the Duchess.
But I shall take notice of what this defender saith, which reflects on
the honour of the church of England.
(1.) “The pillars of the church established by law,” saith he, “are to
be found but broken staffs by their own concessions.”[96] What! is the
church of England _felo de se_? But how, I pray: “for after all their
undertaking to heal a wounded conscience, 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.” As though the scripture
were looked on by us as a mere help at a dead lift, when we have nothing
to say. One would think he had never read the Articles of the church of
England; for there he might have seen, that the scripture is made the
rule and ground of our faith. And, I pray, whither should any persons be
directed under trouble of mind, but to the word of God? Can any thing
else give real satisfaction? Must they go to an infallible church? But
whence should they know it to be infallible, but from the scriptures? So
that on all hands persons must go to the scriptures, if they will have
satisfaction. But this gentleman talks like a mere novice as to matters
of faith, as though believing were a new thing to him, and he did not
yet know that true faith must be grounded on divine revelation, which
the pillars of our church have always asserted to be contained only in
the scripture; and therefore whither can they send persons but to the
scripture? But it seems he is got no farther than the collier’s faith; he
believes as the church believes, and the church believes as he believes,
and by this he hopes to be too hard for “a legion of devils.”
(2.) He saith, “we are reformed from the virtues of good living,”[97]
_i.e._ from the devotions, mortifications, austerities, humility, and
charity, which are practised in Catholic countries, by the example and
precept of that lean, mortified apostle, St Martin Luther.
He knows we pretend not to canonize saints; and he may know, that a very
great man in the church of Rome once said, “that the new saints they
canonized would make one question the old ones.” We neither make a saint
nor an apostle of Martin Luther, and we know of no authority he ever
had in this church. Our church was reformed by itself, and neither by
Luther nor Calvin, whom he had mentioned as well as the other, but for
his lean and mortified aspect. But after all, Luther was as lean and
mortified an apostle as Bishop Bonner; but a man of far greater worth,
and fit for the work he undertook, being of an undaunted spirit. What a
strange sort of calumny is this to upbraid our church, as if it followed
the example and precept of Martin Luther? He knows how very easy it is
for us to retort such things with mighty advantage; when for more than
an age together that church was governed by such dissolute and profane
heads of the church, that it is a shame to mention them; and all this by
the confession of their own writers. But as to Luther’s person, if his
crimes were his corpulency, what became of all the fat abbots and monks?
“But they were no apostles, or reformers:” I easily grant it; but must
God choose instruments, as some do horses, by their fatness to run races.
As to Luther’s conversation, it is justified by those who best knew him,
and are persons of undoubted reputation; I mean, Erasmus, Melancthon, and
Camerarius. And as to matters in dispute, if he acted according to his
principles, his fault lay in his opinions, and not in acting according to
them.
But whether our church follow Luther or not, it is objected, “that we
have reformed away the virtues of good living.” God forbid; but I dare
not think there is any church in the world, where the necessity of good
living is more earnestly pressed: but I confess, we of the church of
England do think, the examples and precepts of Christ, and his apostles,
are to be our rules for the virtues of good living; and, according
to them, I doubt not, but there are as great examples of devotion,
mortification, humility, and charity, as in any place whatsoever. But I
am afraid this gentleman’s acquaintance did not lie much that way, nor
doth he seem to be a very competent judge of the ways of good living, if
he did not know how to distinguish between outward appearances and true
Christian virtues. And, according to his way of judging, the disciples
of the Pharisees did very much outdo those of our blessed Saviour, as
appears by a book we esteem very much, called the New Testament: but
if I mention it to him, I am afraid he should think I am “like the
physicians, who send their patients to Tunbridge wells, or the air of
Montpellier.”
(3.) “That two of our bishops, whereof one was primate of all England,
renounced and condemned two of the established articles of our church.”
But what two articles were these? It seems “they wished we had kept
confession, which, no doubt, was commanded of God, and praying for the
dead, which was one of the ancient things of Christianity.” But which of
our thirty-nine articles did they renounce hereby? I think I have read
and considered them, as much as this gentleman, and I can find no such
articles against confession, and praying for the dead. Our church, as
appears by the office of the visitation of the sick, doth not disallow
of confession in particular cases; but the necessity of it, in order
to forgiveness, in all cases: And if any bishop asserted this, then
he exceeded the doctrine of our church, but he renounced no article
of it. As to the other point, we have an article against the Romish
doctrine of purgatory, article 22d, but not a word concerning praying
for the dead, without respect to it: But he, out of his great skill in
controversy, believes, that prayer for the dead, and the Romish doctrine
of purgatory, are the same; whereas, this relates to the deliverance of
souls out of purgatory, by the suffrages of the living, which makes all
the gainful trade of masses for the dead, &c; but the other related to
the day of judgment, as is known to all who are versed in the writings
of the ancient church. But this our church wisely passes over, neither
condemning it, because so ancient, nor approving it because not grounded
on scripture, and therefore not necessary to be observed.
(4.) But his great spite is at the reformation of this church, “which,”
he saith, “was erected on the foundation of lust, sacrilege, and
usurpation: and that no paint is capable of making lovely the hideous
face of the pretended Reformation.”
These are severe sayings, and might be requited with sharper, if such
hard words and blustering expressions had any good effect on mankind: But
instead thereof, I shall gently wipe off the dirt he hath thrown in the
face of our church, that it may appear in its proper colours.
And now this gentleman sets himself to ergoteering, and looks and talks
like any “grim logician, of the causes which produced it, and the effects
which it produced. The schism led the way to the Reformation, for
breaking the unity of Christ’s church, which was the foundation of it;
but the immediate cause of this, which produced the separation of Henry
VIII. 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.”
Ergo, the first cause of the Reformation was “the satisfying an
inordinate and brutal passion.” But is he sure of this? If he be not, it
is a horrible calumny upon our church, upon King Henry VIII., and the
whole nation, as I shall presently show. No, he confesses he cannot be
sure of it: for, saith he, “no man can carry it so high as the original
cause with any certainty:” and at the same time, he undertakes to
demonstrate, “the immediate cause to be Henry the Eighth’s inordinate
and brutal passion:” And afterwards affirms, as confidently as if he had
demonstrated it, that “our Reformation was erected on the foundations of
lust, sacrilege, and usurpation. Yet,” saith he, “the king only knew
whether it was conscience or love, or love alone, which moved him to
sue for a divorce.”[98] Then, by his favour, the king only could know
what was the immediate cause of that which he calls the schism. Well!
but he offers at some probabilities, that lust was the true cause. Is
ergoteering come to this already? “But this we may say, if conscience
had any part in it, she had taken a long nap of almost twenty years
together before she awakened.” Doth he think that conscience doth not
take a longer nap than this in some men, and yet they pretend to have it
truly awakened at last? What thinks he of late converts? Cannot they be
true, because conscience hath slept so long in them? Must we conclude
in such cases, that “some inordinate passion gives conscience a jog at
last? so that it cannot be denied,” he saith, “that an inordinate and
brutal passion had a great share, at least, in the production of the
schism.” How, cannot be denied! I say, from his own words, it ought to be
denied; for he confesses “none could know but the king himself;” he never
pretends that the king confessed it; how then cannot it be denied? yea,
how dare any one affirm it? especially when the king himself declared,
in a solemn assembly, in these words, saith Hall, (as near, saith he,
as I could carry them away,) speaking of the dissatisfaction of his
conscience—“For this only cause, I protest before God, and in the word of
a prince, I have asked counsel of the greatest clerks in Christendom; and
for this cause I have sent for this legate, as a man indifferent, only to
know the truth, and to settle my conscience, and for none other cause,
as God can judge.” And both then, and afterwards, he declared, that his
scruples began upon the French ambassador’s making a question about the
legitimacy of the marriage, when the match was proposed between the Duke
of Orleans and his daughter; and he affirms, that he moved it himself in
confession to the bishop of Lincoln, and appeals to him concerning the
truth of it in open court. Sanders[99] himself doth not deny, that the
French ambassador (whom he calls the bishop of Tarbe, afterwards Cardinal
Grammont; others say it was Anthony Vesey, one of the presidents of the
parliament of Paris) did start this difficulty in the debate about this
marriage of the king’s daughter; and he makes a set speech for him,
wherein he saith, “that the king’s marriage had an ill report abroad;”
but then he adds, “that this was done by the king’s appointment, and that
Cardinal Wolsey put him upon it;” but he produces no manner of proofs
concerning it, but only, “that it was so believed by the people at that
time, who cursed the French ambassador.” As though the suspicions of the
people were of greater authority than the solemn protestation of the king
himself.
But I think it may be demonstrated, as far as such things are capable
of it, from Sanders his own story, that the king’s first scruples, or
the jogging of his conscience, as our author styles it, could not come
from an inordinate passion to Ann Bolleyn; for he makes Cardinal Wolsey
the chief instrument in the intrigue. Let us then see what accounts he
gives of his motives to undertake it: he not only takes notice of the
great discontent he took at the emperor Charles V., the queen’s nephew,
but how studious he was upon the first intimation of the king’s scruples,
to recommend to him the Duchess of Alençon, the King of France’s sister;
and that, when there were none present but the king, Wolsey, and the
confessor. Afterwards Wolsey was sent on a very splendid embassy into
France, and had secret instructions to carry on the match with the King
of France’s sister. But when he was at Calais, he received orders from
the king to manage other matters as he was appointed, but not to say a
word of that match. “At which,” saith Sanders,[100] “he was in a mighty
rage, because he carried on the divorce for nothing more than to oblige
the most Christian king wholly to himself by this marriage.” How could
this be, if from the beginning of his scruples he knew the king designed
to marry Ann Bolleyn? But Sanders thinks to come off with saying, “that
Wolsey knew of the king’s love, but he thought he designed her only for
his concubine.” But this is plainly to contradict himself; for before
he said,[101] “that Wolsey knew from the beginning whom he intended to
marry.” Besides, what reason could there be, if the king had only a
design to corrupt her, that he should put himself and the world to so
much trouble to sue out a divorce? for the divorce was the main thing
aimed at in all the negociations at Rome; other applications had been
more proper, if his design was only upon having her for a concubine;
“but she would not be corrupted.” If this were the reason, he must
again contradict himself, for he makes her a lewd vicious woman. And it
doth not seem so probable, if she had been such a person as he describes
her, that she would have put the king to so much trouble, and such a
tedious method of proceeding, by so many forms of law. But again, Sanders
saith,[102] “when she returned from France, and was at court, she found
out what Wolsey designed;” which makes it evident, by Sanders his own
words, that the design of the divorce was before the thoughts of Ann
Bolleyn: and it seems very probable, that Cardinal Wolsey might carry
on a public design by it, to draw the king off from the emperor, and to
unite him with France. And the Pope at that time being highly displeased
with the Emperor, he might think it no difficult thing to procure a
dispensation, the King of France’s interest being joined with our
king’s. Some have written, “that the Pope himself was in this intrigue
at first;”[103] but seeing no proof of it, I dare not affirm it: It is
sufficient for my purpose, that the first design was laid quite another
way. I confess afterwards, when Wolsey, upon his return from France,
saw how things were like to go, he struck in with the king’s humour, as
appears by the letters of Ann Bolleyn to him; but yet carried himself
so coldly afterwards in the matter of the divorce, that it proved one
occasion of his fall. Thuanus, being an historian of great judgment, saw
the inconsistencies of Sanders his relations; and therefore concludes,
that Wolsey was surprised with the business of Ann Bolleyn, after he went
into France, having notice sent him by his friends; and that Wolsey
wholly aimed at the French match. Mezeray saith, “the cardinal could
not foresee the love of Ann Bolleyn, but his design was to be revenged
on the emperor;” and he questions whether the king were smitten with
her, till Wolsey was sent into France; when the king so unexpectedly
forbade him to proceed in that match, _cum summo eras dolore_, as Sanders
confesses.[104] From all this we see plainly, that since Sanders makes
Cardinal Wolsey the great contriver and manager of this business, the
immediate cause of the schism could not be the love of Ann Bolleyn.
But we have other kind of proofs concerning this matter, besides Sanders
his inconsistencies; and those shall be from some of the greatest and
most active men of that time, and some remarkable circumstances.
The first is a person of unquestionable integrity, and accounted a
martyr for his conscience at that time, I mean Sir Thomas More, then
lord chancellor; who, after he had delivered to the House of Commons
the original papers of the universities in favour of the divorce, he
then said, “that all men should clearly perceive, that the king hath not
attempted this matter of will and pleasure, as strangers say, but only
for the discharge of his conscience, and the security of the succession
to the crown.” Which was a reason alleged by the king himself, and seems
to have been built on the grounds which Charles V. assigned for breaking
his oath, which he made to marry the Lady Mary, by the first article of
the treaty at Windsor. Lord Herbert owns,[105] that the emperor, to avoid
the force of this treaty, had alleged something against the marriage
between the king and his aunt. But another author, who lived much
nearer the time, doth affirm,[106] “that, when the match was debated in
the Spanish council, it was then said, that although the match between
the king and his brother’s relict were not yet disputed, yet, if the
king should die without issue male, rather than the kingdom should
pass to foreigners, the English nation would dispute the validity of
the marriage;” and to confirm this, in Sir Henry Spelman’s Manuscript
Register of the proceedings of the Legatine Court about the divorce,
subscribed by the three notaries there present, the witnesses deposed,
“that at the time of the marriage, the people said commonly, that it was
unfit one brother should marry the other brother’s wife.” And archbishop
Warham, then upon oath, declared, “that he told King Henry VII., that the
marriage seemed to him neither honourable nor well pleasing to God;” and
he confesses the people then murmured at it, but that the murmuring was
quieted by the Pope’s dispensation: So that all the satisfaction that
was given about it, arose from the Pope’s extraordinary dispensing power
with the laws of God, which was a thing vehemently opposed by many in the
church of Rome; and the university of Bononia itself afterwards declared,
“that the match was abominable, and that the Pope himself could not
dispense with it;” and this they say was “after they had read Cardinal
Cajetan’s defence of the marriage.” The like was done by the university
of Padua, besides many others which I shall not mention, and are easily
to be seen.
So that the succession to the crown by this match must depend upon an
extravagant power in the Pope, which the Roman church itself never
owned, and the wisest statesmen thought by no means fit to depend upon.
The notice of this debate in the Spanish council being sent over to
Cardinal Wolsey, seems to have been the first occasion taken of starting
the question about the lawfulness of the king’s marriage; which Wolsey,
out of a private grudge to the Emperor, as well as for other reasons, was
not wanting to carry on till he saw which way it was like to end. And the
Pope himself was willing enough to grant the bull for the divorce, till
he made a secret peace with the Emperor; and it is easy to see, that the
Pope went forwards and backwards in the whole affair, merely as politic
considerations moved him; which being fully known to so discerning a
prince as Henry VIII., it gave him just occasion to question, whether
that authority were so divine as was pretended, which, in so great a
matter, did not govern itself by any rule of conscience, but by political
measures.
One remarkable circumstance in this matter ought not to be omitted, viz.
that the king’s agent at Rome sent him word, “that the Pope’s advice was,
that if the king’s conscience were satisfied, he should presently marry
another wife, and then prosecute the suit; and that this was the only way
for the king to attain his desires;”[107] but the king refused to do it.
And when Cardinal Wolsey sent a message to the king to the same purpose,
the king replied, “if the bull be naught, let it be so declared; and if
it be good, it shall never be broken by any by-ways for me.” And when he
objected the tediousness of the suit, he answered, “since he had patience
eighteen years, he would stay yet four or five more, since the opinion
of all the clerks of his kingdom (besides two) were lately declared for
him;” adding, “that he had studied the matter himself, and writers of it,
and that he found it was unlawful _de jure divino_, and undispensible.”
Thus we have found the king himself declaring, in public and private,
his real dissatisfaction in point of conscience; and that it was no
inordinate affection to Ann Bolleyn which put him upon it; and the same
attested by Sir Thomas More, and the circumstances of affairs. I now
proceed to another witness.
The next is Bishop Bonner himself, in his preface to Gardiner’s book
of “True Obedience;” for thus he begins: “Forasmuch as there be some
doubtless now at this present, which think the controversy between
the king’s royal majesty and the bishop of Rome, consisteth in this
point, for that his majesty hath taken the most excellent and most
noble lady Ann to his wife; whereas in very deed, notwithstanding the
matter is far otherwise, and nothing so.” So that, if Bishop Bonner may
be believed, there was no such immediate cause of the schism, as the
love to Ann Bolleyn. And withal he adds, “that this book was published,
that the world might understand what was the whole voice and resolute
determination of the best and greatest learned bishops, with all the
nobles and commons of England, not only in the cause of matrimony, but
also in defending the gospel’s doctrine, _i.e._ against the Pope’s
usurped authority over the church.” Again he saith, “that the king’s
marriage was made by the ripe judgment, authority, and privilege, of the
most and principal universities of the world; and then with the consent
of the whole church of England; and that the false pretended supremacy
of the bishop of Rome was most justly abrogated: and that if there were
no other cause but this marriage, the bishop of Rome would content
himself, _i.e._ if he might enjoy his power and revenues still, which,”
he saith, “were so insupportable, that there lay the true cause of the
breach: For his revenues here were near as great as the king’s; and his
tyranny was cruel and bitter, which he had exercised here under the title
of the Catholic church, and the authority of the apostles Peter and Paul,
when notwithstanding he was a very ravening wolf, dressed in sheep’s
cloathing, calling himself the servant of servants.” These are Bonner’s
words, as I have transcribed them out of two several translations,
whereof one was published while he was bishop of London.
Stephen Gardiner, bishop of Winchester, in his book, not only affirms
the king’s former marriage to be unlawful, and the second to be just
and lawful, but that he had the consent of the nation, and the judgment
of his church, as well as foreign learned men for it; and afterwards
he strenuously argues against the Pope’s authority here, as a mere
usurpation. And the whole clergy not only then owned the king’s
supremacy, (Fisher excepted,) but in the book published by authority,
called “A Necessary Doctrine and Erudition of a Christian Man,” &c., the
Pope’s authority was rejected as an usurpation, and confuted by Scripture
and antiquity. King James I. declares, “that there was a general and
catholic conclusion of the whole church of England in this case;” and
when some persons suspected, that it all came from the king’s marriage,
Bishop Bonner, we see, undertakes to assure the world it was no such
thing.[108]
The separation was made, then, by a general consent of the nation; the
king, and church, and people all concurring: and the reasons inducing
them to cast off the Pope’s usurpation were published to the world at
that time; and those reasons have no relation at all to the king’s
marriage: and if they are good, as they thought they were, and this
gentleman saith not a word to disprove them, then the foundation of the
disunion between the church of Rome and us, was not laid in the king’s
inordinate passion, but on just and sufficient reasons.
Thus it appears, that this gentleman hath by no means proved two parts of
his assertion, viz. “That our Reformation was erected on the foundations
of lust and usurpation.”
But our grim logician proceeds from immediate and original, to
concomitant causes; which, he saith, “were revenge, ambition, and
covetousness.”[109] But the skill of logicians used to lie in proving;
but this is not our author’s talent, for not a word is produced to
that purpose. If bold sayings, and confident declarations, will do the
business, he is never unprovided; but if you expect any reason from him,
he begs your pardon; he finds how ill the character of a grim logician
suits with his inclination. However, he takes a leap from causes to
effects; and here he tells us, “the immediate effects 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.”[110]
What the supremacy was, is best understood by the book published by
the king’s order, and drawn up by the bishops of that time. By which
it appears, that the main thing insisted on was, rejecting the Pope’s
authority; and as to the positive part, it lies in these things: 1. In
defending and protecting the church. 2. In overseeing the bishops and
priests in the execution of their office. 3. In reforming the church to
the old limits and pristine estate of that power which was given to them
by Christ, and used in the primitive church. “For it is out of doubt,”
saith that book, “that Christ’s faith was then most pure and firm, and
the Scriptures of God were then best understood, and virtue did then most
abound and excel; and therefore it must needs follow, that the customs
and ordinances then used and made, be more conform and agreeable unto the
true doctrine of Christ, and more conducing unto the edifying and benefit
of the church of Christ, than any custom or laws used or made by the
bishop of Rome, or any other addicted to that see and usurped power since
that time.”
This book was published with the king’s declaration before it; and
therefore we have reason to look on the supremacy to be taken as it is
there explained. And what is there now “so wholly spiritual, that no
layman, or king of Israel, ever exercised in this supremacy?” But this
writer never took the pains to search into these things, and therefore
talks so at random about them.
As to the persecutions that followed, it is well known that both sides
blame King Henry the Eighth for his severity; and therefore this
cannot be laid to the charge of his separation. For the other effect
of sacrilege, I do not see how this follows from the Reformation; for
although some uses might cease by the doctrines of it, as monks to pray
the dead out of purgatory; yet there were others to have employed the
church lands about, as some of them were in founding new bishoprics, &c.
And I have nothing to say in justification of any abuses committed that
way; only that the king and parliament could not discern the difference
between greater and lesser, as to the point of sacrilege; and since the
Pope had shewed them the way, by granting bulls for the dissolution of
the lesser monasteries, they thought, since the Pope’s power was taken
away, they might, with as little sacrilege, dissolve the rest. I will
shut up this with the words of archbishop Laud: “But if there have been
any wilful and gross errors, not so much in opinion as fact, (sacrilege
too often pretending to reform superstition,) that’s the crime of the
reformers, not of the Reformation, and they are long since gone to God to
answer it, to whom I leave them.”[111]
The method I proposed for satisfaction of conscience about the
Reformation, was to consider, whether there were not sufficient cause
for it? Whether there were not sufficient authority? And, whether the
proceedings of our Reformation were not justifiable by the rules of
scripture, and the ancient church? He tells me, “he may safely join issue
with me upon all three points, and conclude in the negative.” But upon
second thoughts, he finds he may much more safely let it alone: and very
fairly would have me take it for granted, “That the church of Rome cannot
err in matters of faith;” (for that he must mean by the church there,)
“and that our church hath no authority of reforming herself; and that our
proceedings were not justifiable, according to the right interpretation
of scriptures by the fathers and councils.” But if I will not allow his
affirmations for proofs, for his part he will act the grim logician no
longer; and in truth, it becomes him so ill, that he doth well to give
it over. When he will undertake to prove, that the church of Rome is
the one Catholic and infallible church of Christ, and answer what I
have produced in the former discourses, I will ease him of any farther
trouble; for then I will grant that our Reformation cannot be justified.
But till then, I shall think it no want of humility to conclude the
victory to be on our side. And I would desire him not to end with such
a bare-faced assertion of a thing so well known to be false, viz. “That
there is not one original treatise written by a Protestant, which hath
handled distinctly, and by itself, that Christian virtue of humility.”
Since within a few years, (besides what hath been printed formerly,) such
a book hath been published in London. But he doth well to bring it off
with, “at least that I have seen or heard of;” for such books have not
lain much in the way of his enquiries. Suppose we had not such particular
books, we think the Holy Scripture gives the best rules and examples of
humility of any book in the world; but I am afraid he should look on
his case as desperate, if I send him to the scripture, since he saith,
“Our divines do that, as physicians do with their patients whom they
think incurable, send them at last to Tunbridge-waters, or to the air of
Montpellier.”