_This shall be to you a straight way, so that fools shall not go
astray in it_ (Isaias xxxv. 8).
Who is there, however small and lost in the crowd of
illiterates, that, with a desire of salvation and some little
attention, cannot see, cannot keep to the path of the Church, so
admirably smoothed out, eschewing brambles and rocks and
pathless wastes! For, as Isaias prophesies, this path shall be
plain even to the uneducated; most plain therefore, if you
choose, to you. Let us put before our eyes the theatre of the
universe: let us wander everywhere: all things supply us with an
argument. Let us go to heaven: let us contemplate roses and
lilies, Saints empurpled with martyrdom or white with innocence:
Roman Pontiffs, I say, three and thirty in a continuous line put
to death: Pastors all the world over, who have pledged their
blood for the name of Christ: Flocks of faithful, who have
followed in the footsteps of their Pastors: all the Saints of
heaven, who as shining lights in purity and holiness have gone
before the crowd of mankind. You will find that these were ours
when they lived on earth, ours when they passed away from this
world. To cull a few instances, ours was that Ignatius, who in
church matters put no one not even the Emperor, on a level with
the Bishop; who committed to writing, that they might not be
lost, certain Apostolic traditions of which he himself had been
witness. Ours was that anchoret Telesphorus, who ordered the
more strict observance of the fast of Lent established by the
Apostles. Ours was Irenaeus, who declared the Apostolic faith by
the Roman succession and chair (lib. iii. cap. 3). Ours was Pope
Victor, who by an edict brought to order the whole of Asia; and
though this proceeding seemed to some minds, and even to that
holy man Irenaeus, somewhat harsh, yet no one made light of it
as coming from a foreign power. Ours was Polycarp, who went to
Rome on the question of Easter, whose burnt relics Smyrna
gathered, and honoured her Bishop with an anniversary feast and
appointed ceremony. Ours were Cornelius and Cyprian, a golden
pair of Martyrs, both great Bishops, but greater he, the Roman,
who had rescinded the African error; while the latter was
ennobled by the obedience which he paid to the elder, his very
dear friend. Ours was Sixtus, to whom, as he offered solemn
sacrifice at the altar, seven men of the clergy ministered. Ours
was his Archdeacon Lawrence, whom the adversaries cast out of
their calendar, to whom, twelve hundred years ago, the Consular
man Prudentius thus prayed:
What is the power entrusted thee,
And how great function is given thee,
The joyful thanks of Roman citizens prove,
To whom thou grantest their petitions.
Among them, O glory of Christ,
Hear also a rustic poet,
Confessing the crimes of his heart
And publishing his doings.
Hear bountifully the supplication
Of Christ's culprit Prudentius.
Ours are those highly-blest maids, Cecily, Agatha, Anastasia,
Barbara, Agnes, Lucy, Dorothy, Catherine, who held fast against
the violent assault of men and devils the virginity they had
resolved upon. Ours was Helen, celebrated for the finding of the
Lord's Cross. Ours was Monica, who in death most piously begged
prayers and sacrifices to be offered for her at the altar of
Christ. Ours was Paula, who, leaving her City palace and her rich
estates, hastened on a long journey a pilgrim to the cave at
Bethlehem, to hide herself by the cradle of the Infant Christ.
Ours were Paul, Hilarion, Antony, those dear ancient solitaries.
Ours was Satyrus, own brother to Ambrose, who, when shipwrecked,
jumped into the ocean, carrying about his neck in a napkin the
Sacred Host, and full of faith swam to shore (_Ambrose, Orat.
fun. de Satyro_).
Ours are the Bishops Martin and Nicholas, exercised in watchings,
clad in the military garb of hair cloths, fed with fasts. Ours is
Benedict, father of so many monks. I should not run through their
thousands in ten years. But neither do I set down those whom I
mentioned before among the Doctors of the Church. I am mindful of
the brevity imposed upon me. Whoever wills, may seek these
further details, not only from the copious histories of the
ancients, but even much more from the grave authors who have
bequeathed to memory almost one man one Saint. Let the reader
report to me his judgment concerning those ancient blessed
Christians, to what doctrine they adhered, the Catholic or the
Lutheran. I call to witness the throne of God, and that Tribunal
at which I shall stand to render reason for these Reasons, of
everything I have said and done, that either there is no heaven
at all, or heaven belongs to our people. The former position we
abhor, we fix therefore upon the latter.
Now contrariwise, if you please, let us look into hell. There are
burnt with everlasting fire, who? The Jews. On what Church have
they turned their backs? On ours. Who again? The heathen. What
Church have they most cruelly persecuted? Ours. Who again? The
Turks. What temples have they destroyed? Ours. Who once more?
Heretics. Against what Church are they in rebellion? Against
ours. What Church but ours has opposed itself against all the
gates of hell? When, after the driving away of the Hebrews,
Christian inhabitants began to multiply at Jerusalem, what a
concourse of men there was to the Holy Places, what veneration
attached to the City, to the Sepulchre, to the Manger, to the
Cross, to all the memorials in which the Church delights as a
wife in what has been worn by her husband. Hence arose against us
the hatred of the Jews, cruel and implacable. Even now they
complain that our ancestors were the ruin of their ancestors.
From Simon Magus and the Lutherans they have received no wound.
Among the heathen, they were the most violent who, throughout the
Roman Empire, for three hundred years, at intervals of time,
contrived most painful punishments for Christians. What
Christians? The fathers and children of our faith. Learn the
language of the tyrant who roasted St. Lawrence on the gridiron:
That this is of your rites
The custom and practice, it has been handed down to memory:
This the discipline of the institution,
That priests pour libations from golden cups.
In silver goblets they say
That the sacred blood smokes;
And that in golden candlestick, at the nightly sacrifices,
There stand fixed waxen candles.
Then is it the chief care of the brethren,
As many-tongued report does testify,
To offer from the sale of estates,
Thousands of pence.
Ancestral property made over
To dishonest auctions,
The disinherited successor groans,
Needy child of holy parents.
These treasures are concealed in secret,
In corners of the churches;
And it is believed the height of piety
To strip your sweet children.
Bring out your treasures,
Which by evil arts of persuasion
You have heaped up and hold,
Which you shut up in darkling cave.
Public utility demands this,
The privy purse demands it, the treasury demands it,
That the soldiers may be paid for their services,
And the commander may benefit thereby.
This is your dogma, then:
Give every man his own.
Now Caesar recognises his own
Image, stamped on the coin.
What you know to be Caesar's, to Caesar
Give; surely what I ask is just.
If I am not mistaken, your Deity
Coins no money,
Nor when he came did he bring
Golden Jacobuses[3] with him;
But he gave his precepts in words,
Empty in point of pocket.
Fulfil the promise of the words
Which you sell the round world over.
Give up your hard cash willingly,
Be rich in words.
(_Prudentius, Hymn on St. Lawrence_).
Whom does this speaker resemble. Against whom does he rage? What
Church is it whose sacred vessels, lamps, and ornaments he is
pillaging, whose ritual he overthrows? Whose golden patens and
silver chalices, sumptuous votive offerings and rich treasure,
does he envy? Why, the man is a Lutheran all over. With what
other cloak did our Nimrods[4] cover their brigandage, when they
embezzled the money of their Churches and wasted the patrimony of
Christ? Take on the contrary Constantine the Great, that scourge
of the persecutors of Christ, to what Church did he restore
tranquillity? To that Church over which Pope Silvester presided,
whom he summoned from his hiding-place on Mount Soracte that by
his ministry he might receive our baptism. Under what auspices
was he victorious? Under the sign of the cross. Of what mother
was he the glorious son? Of Helen. To what Fathers did he attach
himself? To the Fathers of Nice. What manner of men were they?
Such men as Silvester, Mark, Julius, Athanasius, Nicholas. What
seat did he ask for in the Synod? The last. Oh how much more
kingly was he on that seat than the Kings who have ambitioned a
title not due to them! It would be tedious to go into further
details. But from these two [Emperors, Decius and Constantine],
the one our deadly enemy, the other our warm friend, it may be
left to the reader's conjecture to fix on points of closest
resemblance to the one and to the other in the history of our own
times. For as it was our cause that went through its agony under
Decius, so our cause it was that came out triumphant under
Constantine.[5]
Let us look at the doings of the Turks. Mahomet and the apostate
monk Sergius lie in the deep abyss, howling, laden with their own
crimes and with those of their posterity. This portentous and
savage monster, the power of the Saracens and the Turks, had it
not been clipped and checked by our Military Orders, our Princes
and Peoples,--so far as Luther was concerned (to whom Solyman the
Turk is said to have written a letter of thanks on this account),
and so far as the Lutheran Princes were concerned (by whom the
progress of the Turks is reckoned matter of joy),--this frantic
and man-destroying Fury, I say, by this time would be
depopulating and devastating all Europe, overturning altars and
signs of the cross as zealously as Calvin himself. Ours therefore
they are, our proper foes, seeing that by the industry of our
champions it was that their fangs were unfastened from the
throats of Christians.
Let us look down on heretics, the filth and fans and fuel of
hell[6] the first that meets our gaze is Simon Magus. What did he
do? He endeavoured to snatch away free will from man: he prated
of faith alone (Clen. lib. i. recog.; Iren. l. 1, c. 2). After
him, Novatian. Who was he? An Anti-pope, rival to the Roman
Pontiff Cornelius, an enemy of the Sacraments, of Penance and
Chrism. Then Manes the Persian. He taught that baptism did not
confer salvation. After him the Arian Aerius. He condemned
prayers for the dead: he confounded priests with bishops, and was
surnamed "the atheist" no less than Lucian. There follows
Vigilantius, who would not have the Saints prayed to; and
Jovinian, who put marriage on a level with virginity; finally, a
whole mess of nastiness, Macedonius, Pelagius, Nestorius,
Eutyches, the Monothelites, the Iconoclasts, to whom posterity
will aggregate Luther and Calvin. What of them? All black
crows,[7] born of the same egg, they revolted from the Prelates
of our Church, and by, them were rejected and made void.
Let us leave the lower regions and return to earth. Wherever I
cast my eyes and turn my thoughts, whether I regard the
Patriarchates and the Apostolic Sees, or the Bishops of other
lands, or meritorious Princes, Kings, and Emperors, or the origin
of Christianity in any nation, or any evidence of antiquity, or
light of reason, or beauty of virtue, all things serve and
support our faith. I call to witness the Roman Succession, _in
which Church_, to speak with Augustine (_Ep_. 162: _Doctr.
Christ_. ii. 8), _the Primacy of the Apostolic Chair has ever
flourished_. I call to witness those other Apostolic Sees, to
which this name eminently belongs, because they were erected by
the Apostles themselves, or by their immediate disciples. I call
to witness the Pastors of the nations, separate in place, but
united in our religion: Ignatius and Chrysostom at Antioch;
Peter, Alexander, Athanasius, Theophilus, at Alexandria; Macarius
and Cyril at Jerusalem; Proclus at Constantinople; Gregory and
Basil in Cappadocia; Thaumaturgus in Pontus; at Smyrna Polycarp;
Justin at Athens; Dionysius at Corinth; Gregory at Nyssa;
Methodius at Tyre; Ephrem in Syria; Cyprian, Optatus, Augustine,
in Africa; Epiphanius in Cyprus; Andrew in Crete; Ambrose,
Paulinus, Gaudentius, Prosper, Faustus, Vigilius, in Italy;
Irenaeus, Martin, Hilary, Eucherius, Gregory, Salvianus, in Gaul;
Vincentus, Orosius, Ildephonsus, Leander, Isidore, in Spain; in
Britain, Fugatius, Damian, Justus, Mellitus, Bede. Finally, not
to appear to be making a vain display of names, whatever works,
or fragments of works, are still extant of those who sowed the
Gospel seed in distant lands, all exhibit to us one faith, that
which we Catholics profess to-day. O Christ, what cause can I
allege to Thee why Thou shouldst not banish me from Thine own, if
to so many lights of the Church I should have preferred
mannikins, dwellers in darkness, few, unlearned, split into
sects, and of bad moral character!
I call to witness likewise Princes, Kings, Emperors, and their
Commonwealths, whose own piety, and the people of their realms,
and their established discipline in war and peace, were
altogether founded on this our Catholic doctrine. What
Theodosiuses here might I summon from the East, what Charleses
from the West, what Edwards from England, what Louises from
France, what Hermenegilds from Spain, Henries from Saxony,
Wenceslauses from Bohemia, Leopolds from Austria, Stephens from
Hungary, Josaphats from India, Dukes and Counts from all the
world over, who by example, by arms, by laws, by loving care, by
outlay of money, have nourished our Church! For so Isaias
foretold: _Kings shall be thy foster-fathers, and queens thy
nurses_ (Isaias xlix. 23).
Listen, Elizabeth, most powerful Queen, for thee this great
prophet utters this prophecy, and therein teaches thee thy part. I
tell thee: one and the same heaven cannot hold Calvin and the
Princes whom I have named. With these Princes then associate
thyself, and so make thee worthy of thy ancestors, worthy of thy
genius, worthy of thy excellence in letters, worthy of thy
praises, worthy of thy fortune. To this effect alone do I labour
about thy person, and will labour, whatever shall become of me,
for whom these adversaries so often augur the gallows, as though I
were an enemy of thy life. Hail, good Cross. There will come,
Elizabeth, the day, that day which will show thee clearly which
have loved thee, the Society of Jesus or the offspring of Luther.
I proceed. I call to witness all the coasts and regions of the
world, to which the Gospel trumpet has sounded since the birth of
Christ. Was this a little thing, to close the mouth of idols and
carry the kingdom of God to the nations? Of Christ Luther speaks:
we Catholics speak of Christ. _Is Christ divided?_ (1 Cor. i.
13). By no means. Either we speak of a false Christ or he does.
What then? I will say. Let Him be Christ, and belong to them, at
whose coming in Dagon broke his neck. Our Christ was pleased to
use the services of our men, when He banished from the hearts of
so many peoples--Jupiters, Mercuries, Dianas, Phoebades, and that
black night and sad Erebus of ages. There is no leisure to search
afar off, let us examine only neighbouring and domestic history.
The Irish imbibed from Patrick, the Scots from Palladius, the
English from Augustine, men consecrated at Rome, sent from Rome,
venerating Rome, either no faith at all or assuredly our faith,
the Catholic faith. The case is clear. I hurry on.
Witness Universities, witness tables of laws, witness the
domestic habits of men, witness the election and inauguration of
Emperors, witness the coronation rites and anointing of Kings,
witness the Orders of Knighthood and their very mantles, witness
windows, witness coins, witness city gates and city houses,
witness the labours and life of our ancestors, witness all things
great and small, that no religion in the world but ours ever took
deep root there.
These considerations being at hand to me, and so affecting me as
I thought them over that it seemed the part of insolence, nay of
insanity, to renounce all this Christian company and consort
with the most abandoned of men, I confess, I felt animated and
fired to the conflict, a conflict wherein I can never be worsted
until it comes to the Saints being hurled from heaven and the
proud Lucifer recovering heaven. Therefore let Chark, who
reviles me so outrageously, be in better conceit with me, if I
have preferred to trust this poor sinful soul of mine, which
Christ has bought so dearly, rather to a safe way, a sure way, a
royal road, than to Calvin's rocks or woodland thickets, there
to hang caught in uncertainty.