The fate of the English Protestants, exiles under the Marian
administration, was, as the day arrived, to be the lot of the English
Papists under the government of Elizabeth. These opposing parties, when
cast into the same precise position, had only changed their place in it;
and in this revolution of England, in both cases alike, the expatriated
were to return, and those at home were to become the expatriated.
During the short reign of Edward, conformity was not pressed; and
notwithstanding two statutes, the one to maintain the queen's supremacy,
and the other strictly to enjoin the use of the Book of Common Prayer,
through the first ten or twelve years of Elizabeth Romanist and
Protestant entered into the same parish church. "The old Marian
priests," whom the rigid papists indeed afterwards scornfully decried,
were wont to inquire of any one, to use their own term, "whether they
were _settled_?" and were satisfied to lure from the seduction of a
protestant pulpit some lonely waverer, if by chance they found an easy
surrender. There were, indeed, many who would neither "settle" nor
"waver," and these were called "Occasionalists;" they insisted that
"Occasional conformity" had nothing _per se malum_--that human laws
might be complied with or neglected according to circumstances; so
learned doctors had opined! The old religion seemed melting into the
new, when the Romanists, of another temper than "the old Marian
priests," protested against this pacific toleration, and procured from
the fathers of the Council of Trent a declaration against schismatics
and heretics: this was but the prelude of what was to come from a final
authority; but this was sufficient to divide the Romanists of England,
and to alarm the Protestants, yet tender in their reformation.
The sterner Romanists gradually seceded from their preferments in the
church or their station in the universities, and at length forsook the
land. Two eminent persons effected a revolution among their
brother-exiles, of which our national history bears such memorable
traces. These extraordinary men were Dr. ALLEN, of Oriel College, a
canon in the cathedral of York, and who subsequently was invested with
the purple as the English cardinal, and ROBERT PARSONS, of Baliol,
afterwards the famous Jesuit. They left England at different periods,
but when they met abroad, their schemes were inseparable--and possibly
some of their writings; though it may be doubted whether the subtile and
daring genius of Parsons, which Cardinal Allen declared equalled the
greatest whom he had known, ever acted a secondary part.
Allen abandoned his country for ever in 1565. He soon projected the
gathering of his English brothers, scattered in foreign lands; he
conceived the formation for the fugitive Romanists of England of another
Oxford, ostensibly to furnish a succession of Romish priests to preserve
the ancient papistry of England, which was languishing under "the old
Marian priests." In 1568 an English college was formed at Douay; in
twenty years Allen witnessed his colleges rise at Rheims, at Rome,[1] at
Louvain and St. Omer, and at Valladolid, at Seville, and at Madrid. From
these cradles and nurseries of holiness to Rome, and of revolt to
England, issued those seminary priests whose political religionism
elevated them into martyrdom, and involved them in inextricable
treason.[2]
In these labours Allen had, as early as 1575, associated himself with
Parsons, who in that year had entered into the order of the Jesuits.
Allen sought the vigorous aid of the "soldiery of Jesus," alleging "that
England was as glorious a field for the propagation of faith as the
Indies." From that time the more ambiguous policy and deeper views of
that celebrated Society gave a new character to the Romish missionaries
to England, and were the cause of all their calamities; a history
written in blood, at whose legal horrors our imagination recoils, and
our sympathy for the honourable and the hapless may still dim our eyes
with tears.
Parsons, pensioned by Spain and patronised by Rome--wide and deep in his
comprehensive plans--slow in deliberation, but decisive in execution--of
a cold and austere temper, yet flexible and fertile in intrigue--with
his working head and his ceaseless hand--once at least looked for
nothing less than the dominion of England, ambitious to restore to Papal
Rome a realm which had once been her fief. This daring Machiavelian
spirit had long been the subtle and insidious counsellor, conjointly
with Allen, of the cabinets of Madrid and of Rome. From Rome came the
denunciatory bull of 1569, renewed with an artful modification in 1580,
and again in 1588; and from Spain the Armada.
It has been ascertained by his own writings that the Jesuit Parsons, who
had obtained free access to the presence of the Spanish monarch, left
Madrid in 1585, about the time when the preparations for the Armada
began, and returned to Madrid in 1589, the year after its destruction;
so that the English Jesuit, whose sanguine views had aided the
inspiration, had also the fortitude to console and to assure the Spanish
monarch that "the punishment of England had only been deferred." Of this
secret intercourse with the Court of Madrid we have the express avowal
of the English Cardinal, Allen, in that infuriated "Admonition to the
Nobility and People of England," the precursor of the Armada; in which
this Italianated Englishman, contrary to those habits and that language
of amenity to which he had been accustomed, suddenly dropped the veil,
and, at the command of his sacerdotal suzerain, raged against Elizabeth
more furiously than had the Mar-prelate Knox.
In the year 1580 PARSONS and CAMPIAN came the first Jesuit missionaries
to their native soil. Camden was acquainted with both these personages
at college. The contrast of their personal dispositions might have
occasioned their selection; for the chiefs of this noted order not only
exercised a refined discernment in the psychology of their brothers and
agents, but always acted on an ambidextrous policy. Campian, with
amenity of manners and sweetness of elocution, with a taste imbued with
literature, was adapted to win the affections of those whom Parsons
sometimes terrified by his hardihood. They landed in England at
different ports; and, though at first separated, subsequently they
sometimes met. They travelled under a variety of disguises, sure of
concealment in the priests' secret chamber of many a mansion, or they
haunted unfrequented paths. A tradition in the Stonor family still
points at a tangled dell in the park where Campian wrote his "Decem
Rationes," and had his books and his food conveyed to him.
We have an interesting account of the perilous position which he
occupied; his devoted spirit, not to be subdued by despair, but tinged
with the softest melancholy, is disclosed in a letter to the general of
the order. He tells him that he is obliged to assume a most antick
dress, which he often changes as well as his name; but his studious
habits were not interrupted amid this scene of trouble; he says, "Every
day I ride about the country. Sitting on my horse, I meditate a short
sermon, which coming into the house I more perfectly polish. Afterwards,
if any come to me I discourse with them, to which they bring thirsty
ears." But notwithstanding that most threatening edicts were dispersed
against them, he says, that "by wariness and the prayers of good people,
we have in safety gone over a great part of the island. I see many
forgetting themselves to be careful for us." He concludes, "We cannot
long escape the hands of heretics, so many are the eyes, the tongues,
and treacheries of our enemies. Just now I read a letter where was
written, 'Campian is taken.' This old song now so rings in mine ears
wheresoever I come, that very fear hath driven all fear from me; my life
is always in my hand. Let them that shall be sent hither for our supply
bring this along with them, well thought on beforehand."
Our Jesuits in some respects betrayed themselves by their zeal in
addressing the nation through their own publications. Parsons, under the
lugubrious designation of John Howlet, that is, Owlet, sent forth his
"screechings;" and Campian, too confident of his irrefutable "Decem
Rationes," was so imprudent as to publish "A Challenge for a Public
Disputation" in the presence of the queen. The eye of Walsingham opened
on their suspected presence. A Roman Catholic servant unwittingly
betrayed Campian, who suffered as a state victim.[3] Parsons saw his own
doom approaching, and vanished! This able Jesuit was confident that the
great scheme was to be realised by means more effective than the
martyrdom of young priests. His awful pen was to change public opinion,
and nearly forty works attest his diligence, while he mused on other
resources than the pen to overturn the kingdom.
The history of the order records that, thirty years afterwards, Father
Parsons, lying on his death-bed, ordered to be brought to him the cords
which had served as the instruments of torture of his martyred friend,
and, having kissed them fervently, bound round his body these sad
memorials of the saintly Campian.[4]
Two of the numerous writings ascribed to Parsons, one before the Armada,
and the other subsequent to it, are remarkably connected with our
national history; the ability of the writer, and the boldness of the
topics, have at various periods influenced public opinion and national
events. The first "A Dialogue between a Scholar, a Gentleman, and a
Lawyer," was printed abroad in 1583 or 1584, and soon found a conveyance
into England. The first edition was distinguished as "Father Parsons'
Green Coat," from its green cover. It is now better known as
"Leicester's Commonwealth," a title drawn from one of its sarcastic
phrases.
To describe this political libel as a mere invective would convey but
an imperfect notion of its singularity. The occasion which levelled this
artful and elaborate scandalous chronicle at Leicester, and at Leicester
alone, remains as unknown as this circumstantial narrative descends to
us unauthenticated and unrefuted. That the whole was framed by invention
is as incredible as that the favourite of Elizabeth during thirty years
could possibly have kept his equal tenor throughout such a criminal
career, besides not a few atrocities which were prevented by intervening
accidents with which the writer seems equally conversant as with those
perpetrated. The mysterious marriages of Leicester--his first lady found
at the foot of the stairs with her neck broken, but "without hurting the
hood on her head"--husbands dying quickly--solemnised marriages reduced
to contracts--are remarkable accidents. We find strange persons in the
earl's household; Salvador, the Italian chemist, a confidential
counsellor, supposed to have departed from this world with many secrets,
succeeded by Dr. Julio, who risked the promotion. We are told of the
lady who had lost her hair and her nails--of the exquisite salad which
Leicester left on the supper-table when called away, which Sir Nicholas
Throgmorton swore had ended his life--of the Cardinal Chatillon, who,
after having been closeted with the queen, returning to France, never
got beyond Canterbury--of the sending a casuist with a case of
conscience to Walsingham, to satisfy that statesman of the moral
expediency of ridding the state of the Queen of Scots by an Italian
philtre--all these incidents almost induce one to imagine the existence
of an English Borgia, drawn full-length by the hand of a Machiavel.
If this strange history were true, it would not be wanting in a moral;
for if Leicester were himself this poisoner, there seems some reason to
believe that the poisoner himself was poisoned. "The beast," as
Throgmorton called this earl, found but a frail countess in the Lady
Lettice, whose first husband, the Earl of Essex, had suddenly expired.
The Master of the Horse had fired her passion--a hired bravo, in
cleaving his skull, did not succeed in despatching the wounded lover:
where the blow came from they did not doubt. Leicester was conducting
his countess to Kenilworth; stopping at Cornbury Hall, in Oxfordshire,
the lady was possibly reminded of the tale of Cumnor Hall. To Leicester,
after his usual excessive indulgence at table, the countess deemed it
necessary to administer a cordial--it was his last draught! Such is the
revelation of the page, and latterly the gentleman, of this earl.
Certain it is that Leicester was suddenly seized with fever, and died on
his way to Kenilworth, and that the Master of the Horse shortly after
married the poisoning countess of the great poisoner.[5]
Had the writer unskilfully heaped together such atrocious acts or such
ambiguous tales the libel had not endured; the life of this new Borgia
is composed of richer materials than extravagant crimes. It furnishes a
picture of eventful days and busied personages; truth and fiction
brightening and shadowing each other. Some close observer in the court
circle, one who sickened at the queen's insolent favourite, was a
malicious correspondent. Some realities lie on the surface; and Sir
Philip Sidney was baffled or confounded when he would have sent forth
his chivalric challenge to the veiled accuser.
The adversaries of the Jesuits referred to Busenbaum, a favourite author
with the order, to inform the world that among the artifices of the
political brotherhood was inculcated the doctrine of systematic calumny.
"Whenever you would ruin a person or a government, you must begin by
spreading calumnies to defame them. Many will incline to believe or to
side with the propagator. Repetition and perseverance will at length
give the consistency of probability, and the calumnies will stick to a
distant day." A nickname a man may chance to wear out; but a system of
calumny, pursued by a faction, may descend even to posterity. This
principle has taken full effect on this state-favourite. The libel was
most diligently spread about--"La Vie Abominable" was read throughout
Europe. This story of the "subject without subjection," who "shoots at
a diadem" in England or Scotland, and turns England into a "Leicesterian
commonwealth," raised princely anger: the queen condescended to have
circular letters written to protest against it, considering the libel as
reflecting on herself, in the choice of so principal a counsellor: and
though her majesty discovered that the author was nothing less than "an
incarnate devil," yet to this day the state-favourite Leicester remains
the most mysterious personage in our history; nor is there any historian
from the days of Camden who dares to extenuate suspicions which come to
us palpable as realities. In truth, the life of Leicester is darkness;
his political intrigues probably were carried on with all parties, which
probably he adopted and betrayed by turns: at last his caprice stood
above law. And even in his domestic privacy there were strange
incidents, dark and secret, which eye was not to see, nor ear to listen
to; and we have a remarkable chance-evidence of this singular fact in
that mysterious sonnet of Spenser, prefixed to his version of Virgil's
"Gnat," whose sad tale was his own, dedicated "to the deceased lord;"
his "cloudy tears" have left "this riddle rare" to some "future Oedipus"
who has never arisen.[6]
The Armada flying from our coasts evinced to Spain and Rome that
Elizabeth was not to be dethroned. What then remained to hold a
flattering vision of the English crown to Philip, and to cast the
heretical land into confusion? The genius of this new Machiavel rose
with the magnitude of the subject and the singularity of the occasion.
The policy or the weakness of Elizabeth never consented to settle the
succession; and as the queen aged, all Europe became more interested in
that impending event. This was a cause of national uneasiness, and an
implement for political mischief.
In 1594 was printed at Antwerp "A Conference about the next Succession
to the Crown of England." The purpose of this memorable tract is
twofold. The first part inculcates the doctrine that society is a
compact made by man with man for the good of the commonwealth; that the
forms of government are diverse, and therefore are by God and nature
left to the choice of the people; that kings do not derive their title
from any birthright, or lineal descent, but from their coronation, with
conditions and admissions by the consent of the people; and that kings
may be deposed, or the line of succession may be altered, as many of our
own and other monarchs have suffered from various causes, being
accountable for their misgovernment or natural incompetency.
"Commonwealths have sometimes chastised lawfully their lawful princes,
though never so lawfully descended." This has often been "commodious to
the weal-public," and "it may seem that God prospered the same by the
good success and successors that hence ensued."[7]
This theory of monarchical government was opposed to those "absurd
flatterers who yield too much power to princes," and was not likely, as
we shall see, to be only a work of temporary interest. Let us, however,
observe that this advocate of the people's supremacy over their
sovereign's was himself the vowed slave to passive obedience, and the
indefeasible and absolute rule of the sacerdotal suzerain.
The second division is a very curious historical treatise on the titles
and pretensions of ten or eleven families of the English blood-royal,
"what may be said for them, and what against them." From its topics it
was distinguished as "The Book of Titles." It was well adapted to
perplex the nation or raise up competitors, while, however, it reminded
them "of the slaughter and the executions of the nobility of England."
In this uncertainty of the succession, Isabella of Spain, whose ancestry
is drawn from the Conquest through many descents, is shown to have the
best title, and James of Scotland the worst.
The book appeared in London with a dedication to the Earl of Essex--this
was a stroke of refined malice, and produced its full effect on the
queen. In this panegyric on the earl's "eminence in place and in
dignity, in favour of the prince and in high liking of the people," the
wily Jesuit intimated that "no man is like to have greater sway on
deciding of this great affair (the succession), when time shall come for
that determination, and those that shall assist you and are likest to
follow your fame and fortune." The jealous alarm of Elizabeth had often
been roused by the imprudence of the earl, and on this occasion it
thundered with all her queenly rage; she herself showed him the
dangerous eulogiums of the insidious dedicator, till the hapless earl
was observed to grow pale, and withdrew from court with a mind
disturbed, and was confined by illness till the queen's visit once more
restored him to favour.
The immediate effect of the "Conference" appears by an act of Parliament
of the 35th of Elizabeth, enacting that "whoever was found to have it in
his house should be guilty of high treason;" but its more permanent
influence is remarkable on several national occasions. This tract
contributed to hasten the fate of the hapless Charles. The doctrine of
cutting off the heads of kings, "the whole body being of more authority
than the only head," was too opportune for the business in hand to be
neglected by the Independents. The first part, licensed by their
licenser, was printed at the charge of the Parliament, disguised as
"Several Speeches delivered at a Conference concerning the Power of
Parliament to proceed against their King for Misgovernment." The nine
chapters of the Conference were turned into these nine pretended
speeches![8] These furnished the matter of the speech of Bradshaw at the
condemnation of the monarch; and even Milton, in his "Defence of the
English People," adopted the doctrines. Never has political pamphlet
directed an event more awful, and on which the destiny of a nation was
suspended. Even an abstract of it served for the nonce, under the title
of "The Broken Succession of the Crown of England," at the time that
Cromwell was aiming at restoring the English monarchy in his own person.
It was again renovated in 1681, at the time of agitating the bill of
exclusion against James the Second. I believe it has appeared in other
forms. Nor was the fortune of "Leicester's Commonwealth" less remarkable
in serving the designs of a party. It was twice reprinted, in 1641, as a
melancholy picture of a royal favourite, and again, probably with the
same political design, in 1706.
Parsons' claim to these two memorable tracts has been impugned. My
ingenious friend Dr. Bliss has referred to two letters of Dr. Ashton,
Master of Jesus College, and Dean Mosse, on the subject of "Leicester's
Commonwealth," which he considers "fully prove" that it was not the work
of Parsons. I give these letters.
_Dr. Ashton to Dean Mosse._
"There is nothing in the book that favours the Spanish invasion, and all
the treason is only against Leicester. Parsons has been esteemed the
author of it; but I can't yet believe that 'twas his, for several
reasons.
"First; there's nothing in it of the fierce and turbulent spirit of that
Jesuit; but a tender concern for the Queen and government both in church
and state.
"Secondly; the book makes a papist own that several of the priests and
others were traitors, and often commends Burleigh, who was the chief
persecutor, and ordered the writing of 'The Book of Justice,' &c., which
certainly Parsons would not have done, whose errand into England not
long before was to renew the excommunication of the Queen, and declare
her subjects freed from their allegiance, nay bound to take up arms
against her; especially since Campian, his brother missionary, was one
of those martyrs, and he himself very narrowly escaped.
"Thirdly; when Parsons and Campian came into England in '80, it was to
further the designs of the King of Spain, and persuade the people that
upon the Queen's forfeiture he had a right to take possession of her
crown. But there's nothing looks that way in the book, unless defending
the title of the Queen of the Scots and her son be writing for the
invasion. There was a book written a little before this, for the Scotch
succession, by Lesly, bishop of Rosse, under the name of Morgan, even
by the connivance of Queen Elizabeth, as Camden tells us; but the
seminary priests and Jesuits were all upon the Spanish right by virtue
of the Pope's bull of excommunication; and upon this foot Parsons
afterwards wrote his 'Andr. Philopater,' and 'Book of Titles,' in the
name of N. Doleman.
"Fourthly; I can't think Parsons capable of writing this book; for how
could a man that from '75 to his dying day (bating a few months in the
year '80) lived at Rome, be able to know all the secret transactions,
both in _court_ and _country_, in England, which perhaps were mysteries
to all the nation except a few statesmen about the Queen?
"Lastly; I can't believe that Parsons, who was expelled (or forced to
resign his fellowship in Baliol) for his immoralities, and then
pretended to be a physician, and at last went to Rome and turned Jesuit,
would tell that story of Leicester's management of the University of
Oxford. There are several other improbabilities.
"The book seems to be written by a man moderate in religion (whether
Papist or Protestant, I can't say), but a bitter enemy to Leicester--one
that was intimate with all the court affairs, and, to cover himself from
_the bear's_ fury, contrived that this book should come as it were from
abroad, under the name of Parsons."
_Dr. Mosse's Notes on the above Letter._
"First, He points out several facts to show that the book must have been
written at the end of 1584, certainly between 1583 and '85, when in '85
Leicester went general into Holland, of which there is no mention in the
book, as Drake observes.
"Secondly, The design. I see nothing in the book relating to the
invasion, the design being to support the title of the Queen of Scots
and her son. Dr. James was the first who in print affirmed Parsons to be
the only author--which was then in many mouths, that he wrote it from
materials sent him by Burleigh. But as it is not very likely that
Parsons, who lived at Rome, should be acquainted with all the
transactions set down in that book, so 'tis less probable that Burleigh
should pitch upon him for such a work; and I take the report to be
grounded only on a passage in the book that mentions the _papers_
Burleigh had against Leicester."
Dr. Mosse then gives what Wood has written, and Wood's inference, that
neither Pitts nor Ribadeneira giving it in the list of his writings is a
sufficient argument; and the doctor concludes--
"In short, the author is very uncertain; and, for anything that appears
in it, it may as well be a protestant's as a papist's. I should rather
think it the work of some subtle courtier, who for safety got it printed
abroad, and sent into England under the name of Parsons."[9]
Allowing these arguments to the fullest extent, they are not sufficient
to disprove the authorship ascribed to Parsons. The drift and character
of this English Jesuit seem not to have been sufficiently taken in by
these critics. There would certainly be no difficulty in the Jesuit
assuming the mask of a moderate religionist, and a loyal subject; for
the advantage of the disguise, he would even venture the bold stroke of
condemning the martyrs. The conclusion of Dr. Mosse, that the book might
be written by either a protestant or a papist, betrays its studied
ambiguity. It was usual with the Jesuits to conform to prevalent
opinions to wrestle with them. Sometimes the Jesuit was the advocate for
the dethronement of monarchs, and at other times urged passive obedience
to the right divine. In truth, it is always impossible to decide on the
latent meaning of the Jesuitic pen. Pascal has exhausted the argument.
Dr. Ashton may be mistaken when he asserts that Parsons and Campian came
to England in 1580, to further the designs of the King of Spain. The
policy of the Roman Catholic party at that moment did not turn on the
Spanish succession; during the life of the Scottish Mary, the party were
all united in one design; it was at her death, in 1587, that it split
into two opposite factions. At the head of one stood the Jesuit Parsons;
in his rage and despair, having failed to win over the Scottish prince,
he raised up the claims of the Spanish line, reckless of the ruin of
his country by invasion and internal dissension: the other party,
British at heart, consisting of laymen and gentlemen, would never concur
in the invasion and conquest of England by a foreign prince. This
curious contingency has been elucidated by our ambassador at the court
of France, Sir Henry Neville, in a letter to Cecil.[10] It is therefore
quite evident why "the book did not look _that way_," as Dr. Ashton
expresses it, and why all Parsons' subsequent writings did.
Dr. Ashton considers it impossible that Parsons, who lived abroad so
much of his lifetime, should be so intimate with the secret transactions
of the court and country of England. But Parsons kept up a busy
communication with this country. This he has himself incidentally told
us, in his "Memorial for Reformation," written in 1596; he says, "I have
had occasion, _above others_, for more than twenty years, not only to
know the state of matters in England, but also of many foreign nations."
It is recorded that he received three hundred letters from England on
his Book of Titles. He was very critical in the history of our great
families, and had a taste for personal anecdote, even to the gossip of
the circle. In a remarkable work which he sent forth under the name of
Andreas Philopater, a Latin reply to the queen's proclamation, he
describes her ministers as _sprung from the earth_. Of Sir Nicholas
Bacon, he says that he was an under-butler at Gray's Inn; of Lord
Burleigh, that his father served under the king's tailor, and that his
grandfather kept an alehouse, and that for himself during Mary's reign
he had always his beads in his hand. In this defamatory catalogue, the
Earl of Leicester is not forgotten: the son of a duke, the grandson of
an esquire, and the great-grandson of a carpenter; a more flagitious
man, a more insolent tyrant England never knew; _never had the Catholics
a more bitter enemy_; books, both in the French and the English
language, have exposed his debaucheries, his adulteries, his homicides,
his parricides, his thefts, his rapines, his perjuries, his oppressions
of the poor, his cruelties, his deceitfulness, and the injuries he did
to the Catholic religion, to the public, and to private families. This
is quite a supplement to Leicester's "Commonwealth," condensing all its
original spirit.
That Lord Burleigh should have supplied materials for this political
libel, stands next to an impossibility. One passage asserts that "the
Lord Treasurer hath as much in his keeping of Leycester's own
hand-writing as is sufficient to hang him, if he durst present it to her
majesty." This could only have been a random stroke of the hardy writer;
for were it absolutely true, that sage would never have entrusted that
secret to any man. It would have been placing his own life in jeopardy.
As for the tattle of the lady who, in delivering a letter from Leicester
into the hands of Lord Burleigh, "at the door of the withdrawing
chamber," was instructed to drop it in a way that it might attract the
queen's notice, and induce her majesty to read it, it surely was not
necessary for Lord Burleigh to communicate this "shift" of Leicester's
practices; the lady might have deposited this secret manoeuvre in the
ear of the faithless courtier who unquestionably contributed his zealous
quota to this Leicesterian Commonwealth.
With regard to "the Conference," the Roman Catholic historian, Dodd, and
others, have inclined to doubt whether Parsons was the author; and their
argument is--not an unusual one with the Jesuits--you cannot prove it,
and he has denied it. Cardinal Allen and Sir Francis Englefield may have
contributed to this learned work, but Parsons held the pen. It appeared
under the name of Doleman; and it is said that the harmless secular
priest who bore that name fell into trouble in consequence. We may for
once believe Parsons himself, that the name was chosen for its
significance, as "a man of dole," grieving for the loss of his country.
He has in other writings continued the initials, N. D., associating his
feelings with these letters. On the same querulous principle, he had
formerly taken that of "John Howlett," or Owlet. He fancied such
significant pseudonyms, in allusion to his condition; thus he took that
of "Philopater." He varied his initials, as well as his fictitious
names. He was a Proteus whenever he had his pen in his hand; Protestant
and Romanist, Englishman and Spaniard.
It is now, however, too late to hesitate in fixing on the true parent of
these twin-productions; twins they are, though in the intellectual state
twins are not born on the same day. These productions are marked by the
same strong features; their limbs are fashioned alike; and their
affinity betrays itself, even in their tones. The author could not
always escape from adopting a peculiar phraseology, or identical
expressions, which unavoidably associate the later with the earlier
work, the same in style, in manner, and in plan. Imitation is out of the
question where there is identity. One pen composed these works, as they
did thirty more.
The English writings of the Jesuit PARSONS have attracted the notice of
some of our philological critics. Parsons may be ranked among the
earliest writers of our vernacular diction in its purity and pristine
vigour, without ornament or polish. It is, we presume, Saxon English,
unblemished by an exotic phrase. It is remarkable that our author, who
passed the best part of his days abroad, and who had perfectly acquired
the Spanish and the Italian languages, and slightly the French, yet
appears to have preserved our colloquial English, from the vicissitudes
of those fashionable novelties which deform the long unsettled
Elizabethan prose. To the elevation of Hooker his imagination could
never have ascended; but in clear conceptions and natural expressions no
one was his superior. His English writings have not a sentence which to
this day is either obsolete or obscure. Swift would not have disdained
his idiomatic energy. Parsons was admirably adapted to be a libeller or
a polemic.