THE POPE'S ORDINARY AUTHORITY.
1. When the Holy Father speaks _ex cathedrâ_, and defines any doctrine
concerning Faith or Morals, we are bound to receive his teaching with
the assent of divine faith: and cannot refuse obedience, without being
guilty of heresy. By one such wilful act of disobedience we cease to
be members of the Church of God, and must be classed with heathens and
publicans: "Who will not hear the Church, let him be to thee as the
heathen and the publican" (Matt, xviii. 17).
But the Holy Father rarely exercises his prerogative of Infallibility,
and therefore the occasions of these special professions of faith
occur but seldom--not once, perhaps, during the course of many years.
2. What then, it may be asked, is the proper attitude of a Catholic
towards the Pope, at ordinary times?
For a proper understanding of the answer, it may be well to remind the
general reader, that the law of God enjoins obedience to all lawfully
constituted authority; whether ecclesiastical or civil, and whether
Infallible or not: further that the Pope, whether speaking _ex
cathedrâ_ or not, is always our lawful superior in all matters
appertaining to religion, not only as regards faith and morals, but
also as regards ecclesiastical order and discipline. His jurisdiction,
or authority to command in these matters, is supreme and universal,
and carries with it a corresponding right to be obeyed. He is the
immediate and supreme representative of God upon earth; and has been
placed in that position by God Himself. And since the Primacy is
neither in whole, nor even in part of human derivation, but comes
directly and immediately from Christ, no man or number of men, whether
kings or princes or individual Bishops, nor even a whole Council of
Bishops, have any warranty or right to command him in religious or
ecclesiastical concerns.[9] The Council of Florence declares that: "To
him, in Blessed Peter, was delivered by Our Lord Jesus Christ the full
power of ruling and governing the Universal Church". Now this "full
power" accorded by Christ cannot be limited except by the authority of
Christ. Though the Pope is not the Sovereign of all the faithful in
the _temporal_ order, he is the Sovereign of all Christians in the
_spiritual_ order. If then--and this is admitted by all--we are bound
in conscience to obey our temporal sovereign and magistrates and
masters, and must submit to the laws of the country, so long as they
do not conflict with higher and superior laws, such as the Natural Law
and the Revealed Law, with still greater reason are we bound to obey
our spiritual Sovereign and the laws and regulations of the Church.
3. To object that the Pope may possibly make a mistake when not
speaking _ex cathedrâ_ though true, is nothing to the point. For civil
governments are far more liable to fail in this respect, and as a
matter of fact, do frequently abuse their power and pass unjust laws,
and sometimes command what is sinful,[10] yet that fact does not
militate against the soundness of the _general_ proposition that
lawful superiors are to be obeyed. Nor does it diminish the force of
St. Peter's inspired words, in which he bids us be subject, for God's
sake, "whether it be to the king, as excelling, or to governors as
sent by him for the punishment of evil doers ... for such is the will
of God" (Peter ii.). Nor does it detract from the truth and validity
of St. Paul's still more emphatic words: "Let every soul be subject to
higher powers; for there is no power but from God: and those that are
ordained of God. Therefore he that resisteth the power, _resisteth the
ordinance of God. And they that resist purchase to themselves
damnation_" (Rom. xiii.). And again, when writing to Titus he says:
"Admonish them to be subject to princes and powers, and to obey" (Tit.
iii. 1).
If the Apostles themselves thus command obedience to the State, even
to a pagan Government, such as the Roman was at the time they wrote,
it will scarcely be denied by any Christian that obedience is due to
the Church, and to the ecclesiastical government, altogether apart
from any question of infallibility. In fact, though both the civil
government and the ecclesiastical government are from God, and though
each is supreme within its own sphere; yet the authority in the case
of the Church is directly and immediately from God, whereas in the
case of the State, it is from God only mediately. This is why the
form of government, in the case of the State, may vary. It may be at
one time monarchical, and at another republican, and then oligarchic,
and so forth, whereas the Church must ever be ruled by one Supreme
Pontiff, and be monarchical in its form. Further, it is generally held
that even when not speaking _ex cathedrâ_, "the Vicar of Christ is
largely assisted by God in the fulfilment of his sublime office; that
he receives great light and strength to do well the great work
entrusted to him and imposed upon him, and that he is continually
guided from above in the government of the Catholic Church." [Words of
Father O'Reilly, S.J., quoted with approval by Cardinal Newman, p.
140.] And that supplies us with a special and an additional motive for
prompt obedience.
"Two powers govern the world," wrote Pope Gelasius, to the Greek
Emperor Anastasius, more than fourteen hundred years ago, "the
spiritual authority of the Roman Pontiff, and the temporal power of
kings". These two powers have for their end, one the spiritual
happiness of man, here and hereafter, the other the temporal
prosperity of society in the present world. So that, we may say,
speaking generally, the Roman Pontiff has, in spiritual and
ecclesiastical matters, the same authority that secular sovereigns and
their Parliaments have in worldly and political matters. They command
and issue laws not only as regards what is _necessary_ for the welfare
of their subjects, but also as regards whatever is lawful and
expedient. It is not contended that they never make a mistake. It is
not asserted that their ruling is necessarily, and in every
particular, always wise and discreet, but even inexpedient orders, if
not unjust, may be valid and binding, even though they might have been
better non-issued. The principle to guide us is of practical
simplicity. As regards both the Church and the State--each in its own
order--the rule is that obedience is to be yielded. And, in doubtful
cases the presumption is in favour of authority. If anything were
ordered, which is _clearly seen_ to be contrary to, or incompatible
with the Law of God, whether natural or revealed, then, of course, it
would possess no binding force, for the Apostle warns us that--"We
must obey God, rather than man"--but, so long as we remain in a state
of uncertainty, we are bound to give a properly constituted authority
the benefit of the doubt--and submit.
4. With these preliminary explanations and considerations to guide us
in our interpretation, we will now give the solemn teaching on the
subject, as laid down in the third chapter of the _Pastor Æternus_,
drawn up and duly promulgated by the Ecumenical Council of the
Vatican; and therefore of supreme authority.
"We teach and declare that the Roman Church, according to the
disposition of the Lord, obtains the princedom of ordinary power over
all the other Churches; and that this, the Roman Pontiff's power of
jurisdiction, which is truly episcopal, is immediate; towards which
(power) all the pastors and faithful, of whatever right and dignity,
whether each separately or all collectively, are bound by the duty of
hierarchical subordination and true obedience, not only in the things
which pertain to faith and morals, but also in those which pertain to
the _discipline and government_ (_regimen_) of the Church diffused
through the whole world; so that, unity being preserved with the Roman
Pontiff, as well of communion as of the profession of the same faith,
the Church of Christ may be one flock under one pastor. This is the
doctrine of Catholic truth, from which no one can deviate without loss
of faith and salvation."
"We also teach and declare that the Roman Pontiff is the supreme judge
of the faithful, and that in all causes belonging to ecclesiastical
examination recourse can be had to his judgment: and that the judgment
of the Apostolic See, than whose authority there is none greater, is
not to be called in question, nor is it lawful for any one to judge
its judgment. Therefore, those wander from the right path of truth who
affirm that it is lawful to appeal from the judgments of the Roman
Pontiffs to an Ecumenical Council, as to an authority superior to the
Roman Pontiff."
"If any one, therefore, shall say that the Roman Pontiff has only the
office of inspection or direction, but not full and supreme power of
jurisdiction over the Universal Church, not only in the things which
pertain to faith and morals, but also in those which pertain to the
discipline and government of the Church diffused throughout the whole
world, or that he has only the principal place (_potiores partes_),
and not the whole plenitude of the supreme power, or that this, his
power, is not ordinary and immediate, whether over all and each of the
Churches, or over all and each of the pastors and faithful, let him be
anathema!"
5. Since the Church is a perfect society, spread throughout the entire
world, with one supreme ruler at its head, it follows that it must be
endowed with all the means requisite for the carrying out of its
mission. Christ was sent, by His Eternal Father, from Heaven with full
powers. "All power is given me in heaven and in earth"; and these
powers He handed on to His Church. "As the Father hath sent Me, so I
also send you" (John xx. 21). Hence the Popes are, to use Scriptural
phraseology, "ambassadors for Christ; God, as it were, exhorting by
them" (2 Cor. v. 20); and no Catholic dare contest their power or
jurisdiction.
Indeed, it would have been hopelessly impossible to carry on the
government of the Church and to maintain unity amongst its
ever-increasing numbers, if there were no supreme authority ready to
assert itself; to correct errors; to resist abuses; and to restrain
those who might introduce dissensions and differences. Of this fact,
the present deplorable chaotic state of the Anglican and other
non-Catholic Churches offers us abundant and forcible illustrations.
From the very first the One True Church has not only taught, but
ruled; not only spoken, but acted. And when any of her subjects have
proved obstreperous and disobedient, and stubborn in their resistance
to her orders, she has invariably turned them out of her fold, so that
they should not infect and contaminate the good and the loyal. It was
in this sense that St. Paul, the inspired Apostle, in the very first
century of the Christian era, instructed Titus to construe and
administer the law committed to his charge. After warning Titus that
there are "many vain talkers and deceivers," St. Paul commands him "to
rebuke them sharply, that they may be sound in faith". He adds
further: "These things speak, and exhort, and rebuke, _with all
authority_". But this was not all. He was not only to decide who were
the "vain talkers and deceivers". Nor was he simply "to exhort and
rebuke them sharply, and with all authority," that they might become
"sound in the faith," but if they persisted after the first and second
admonition, he was also to reject them, and thrust them out of the
Church, as heretics. "Reject a heretic, after the first and second
admonition" (Tit. iii. 10). Now Titus was neither an Apostle nor a
Pope, but a simple Bishop. If then such were the powers invested in
him, how much more fully still must this authority be inherent in the
Vicar of Christ himself, who is the supreme head upon earth of the
entire Church of God.
It is this prompt amputation of the diseased members, before the
hideous canker has time to spread, that has kept the Church of God
pure to this day, while heretical bodies have fallen into greater and
greater spiritual decay. It is because she fearlessly and resolutely
insists upon all her children accepting the truth, the whole truth,
and nothing but the truth, that she presents to the world, century
after century, with miraculous clearness and perspicuity, the Divine
hall-mark of unity.
6. Outside the true Church of God there is no recognised voice strong
enough to enforce any uniformity of belief. Though the Pope's
authority was acknowledged throughout England for over one thousand
years, yet at the time of the so-called Reformation, that Voice of
God, speaking through Peter, was admitted no longer. Hence, as
Cardinal Manning most truly observes: "The old forms of religious
thought are now passing away in England. The rejection of the Divine
Voice has let in the flood of opinion; and opinion has generated
scepticism; and scepticism has brought on contentions without end.
What seemed so solid once, is disintegrated. It is dissolving by the
internal action of the principle from which it sprung. The critical
unbelief of dogma has now reached to the foundation of Christianity,
and to the veracity of Scripture. Such is the world the Catholic
Church Sees before it at this day. The Anglicanism of the Reformation
is _upon the rocks_, like some tall ship stranded upon the shore, and
going to pieces, by its own weight and the steady action of the sea.
We have no need of playing the wreckers. It would be inhumanity to do
so. God knows that the desires and prayers of Catholics are ever
ascending that all that remains of Christianity in England may be
preserved, unfolded and perfected into the whole circle of revealed
truths, and the unmutilated revelation of the Faith.
"It is inevitable that if we speak plainly we must give pain and
offence to those who will not admit the possibility that they are out
of the Faith and the Church of Jesus Christ. But, if we do not speak
plainly, woe unto us, for we shall betray our trust and our Master.
There is a day coming, when they who have softened down the truth, or
have been silent, will have to give account. I had rather be thought
harsh than be conscious of hiding the light which has been mercifully
shown to me" (_Temp. Mission_, etc., p. 215).
It would be well if all Catholics took to heart these noble words of
the great English Cardinal, who was himself once an Archdeacon in the
Anglican Church. Real charity urges us to set forth the truth in all
its nakedness and beauty. This must be done, even though it may
sometimes give pain and cause irritation. If a man be walking in a
trance towards the crumbling edge of some ghastly precipice, who--let
me ask--acts with the greater charity, he who is afraid to interfere,
and will calmly allow the somnambulist to walk on, till he fall over
into the abyss; or he who will shout, and, if need be, roughly shake
him from his fatal sleep, and so, perhaps, save him from destruction?
Surely, to allow a fellow-creature to follow a path of extreme danger,
for fear of wounding his susceptibilities and incurring his anger, by
candidly pointing out his peril, is the mark, not of a lover of his
brethren, but rather of one who loves himself alone.
We will conclude with the warning of God, given through the inspired
writer Ezekiel, the application of which, _positis ponendis_, is
sufficiently plain: "When I say unto the wicked, Thou shall surely
die; and thou givest him not warning, nor speakest to warn the wicked
from his wicked way, to save his life; the same wicked man shall die
in his iniquity, but his blood I will require at thy hand. Yet _if
thou warn the wicked_, and he turn not from his wickedness, nor from
his wicked way, he shall die in his iniquity, but _thou hast delivered
thy soul_" (Ezek. iii. 18).
_P.S._--Among the authors quoted in THE PURPOSE OF THE PAPACY may be
mentioned the following, as being easily obtainable by English
readers: Allnatt, Allies, Bonomelli, Capel, Castelplano, Dering,
Deviver, Franzelin, Humphrey, Manning, Merry del Val, Meyer, Minges,
Newman, O'Reilly, Rhodes, Ullathorne, Ward.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 9: "Da chi dipenderà il Pontefice nell' esercizio del suo
potere Spirituale? Dai Rè? Eccovi il gallicanismo parlamentare! Dalle
masse dei fedeli? Eccovi il richerianismo, e febronianismo! Dai
Vescovi? Eccovi il gallicanismo teologico" (_L. di Castelplanio_, p.
104).]
[Footnote 10: Take for instance, 37 Henry VIII. Chap. 17, which
recites that "the clergy have no Ecclesiastical Jurisdiction, but by
and under the King, who is the _only Supreme Head of the Church_ of
England, to whom _all_ authority and power is _wholly_ given to hear
and determine all causes ecclesiastical."]
PART II.
THE ANGLICAN THEORY OF CONTINUITY IN THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND.
OR
THE AUTHORITY OF THE POPE IN ENGLAND IN PRE-REFORMATION TIMES.
As the First Part of this little treatise is devoted to a
consideration of the position of the Pope and the authority
which he exercises throughout the Universal Church; so the
Second Part is concerned with the position occupied and the
authority exercised by the same Sovereign Pontiff in our own
country of England, before she was cut off from the
Universal Church in the sixteenth century.
CHAPTER I.
THE CHURCH IN ENGLAND BEFORE THE REFORMATION.
One of the greatest glories of the Catholic Church is that she and she
alone possesses and is able to communicate to others the whole truth
revealed by Jesus Christ. The Church of England and other Churches
that have gone out from her have, we are thankful to say, carried with
them some fragments of Christianity, but the Catholic Church alone
possesses the whole unadulterated revelation of Jesus Christ. For over
a thousand years, the Church in England formed a part of the great
Universal Church, the centre of which is at Rome and the circumference
of which is everywhere. From the sixth to the sixteenth century the
Church in England was a province of that Church, and received her
power and jurisdiction from the Holy See. It was not until the
sixteenth century that she apostatised, and was cut off from the stem,
out of which she had sprung, as a rotten branch is lopped off from a
healthy tree. It was not until then that she became a Church apart,
distinct from the Church of God, no longer the _Catholic_ Church _in_
England, but henceforth the _National_ Church _of_ England and of
England alone. The pre-"Reformation" Church was, as we have said, not
a separate Church, but a part of the one Catholic Church, whereas the
post-"Reformation" Church stands alone, unrecognised by the rest of
Christendom; hence the one is absolutely distinct from the other. The
grand old cathedrals and churches designed, built, and paid for by our
Catholic ancestors have been forcibly taken possession of, but the
Faith, the teaching, and the doctrine--in a word, the Church
itself--is totally distinct. The wolf may slay and devour the sheep
and may then clothe himself in its fleece, but the wolf is not the
sheep, and the nature of the one remains totally different from that
of the other. The proofs of all this are so numerous and so striking
that one scarcely knows which to choose, nor where to begin. In the
present chapter, we will content ourselves with calling attention to
certain points that every one will be able to grasp. It is said that a
straw will show which way the wind blows, so things even trivial in
themselves will enable any unprejudiced man to see that there must be
some radical difference between the Church in England four hundred
years ago, and the Church of England to-day. First, let us just look
round and consider the Catholic Church. It is spread all over the
world. It is found in France, in Belgium, in Italy, in Spain, and in
other countries, all of which recognised the Church in England before
the "Reformation" as one in faith and doctrine with themselves. They
felt themselves united with it in one and the same belief; they taught
the same seven Sacraments; they gathered around the same Sacrifice;
they acknowledged the same supremacy of the same spiritual head. Now
there is no single Catholic country that recognises the Church of
England as anything but heretical and schismatical.
Formerly when any Archbishop of Canterbury travelled abroad he was
received as a brother by the Catholic Bishops all over the Continent.
He felt thoroughly at home in the Catholic churches, and offered up
the Divine Mysteries at their altars, using the same sacred vessels,
reading from the same missal, speaking the same language, and feeling
himself to be a member of the same spiritual family. Can the present
Archbishop of Canterbury follow their example? Would the Cardinal
Archbishop of Paris, for instance, or the Archbishop of Milan receive
the Anglican Archbishop of Canterbury, as a brother Bishop? Would they
cause their cathedrals to be thrown open to him? No.
In vain does the Archbishop of Canterbury of to-day claim continuity
with the pre-"Reformation" Archbishops. For no one would be found to
admit such a claim. It may be said that this is of no great
importance. It may not be in itself, but it is the straw which shows
the way the wind blows; and clearly proves that the verdict of the
entire world and the chief centres of Christendom is against
continuity.
Let us take another "straw". Before the pseudo-Reformation there were
Cardinals exercising authority in the Church in England. Some of them
even became famous. There was, for instance, Cardinal Stephen Langton,
who was Primate of England, and who brought together the Barons, and
forced the Great Charter from King John. There, amongst the signatures
to that famous document we find the name of a Roman Cardinal. From the
time of Stephen Langton to the time of Cardinal Fisher in the
sixteenth century there was a long succession of Cardinals in England,
all of whom were members of the Church in England. From the time of
Cardinal Robert Pullen to that of Cardinal John Fisher there were no
fewer than twenty-two Roman Cardinals belonging to that Church. How is
it that during those thousand years the English Church could have and
actually did have Cardinals, up to the time of the so-called
Reformation, but never since? How is it that such a thing has ceased
to be possible? Clearly because it is no longer the same Church.
Before, England was a part of the Universal Church; and just as the
Church in Italy, France, and Spain, had, and still have, their
Cardinals, so England also was given its share of representation in
the Sacred College. We shall realise the inference to be drawn if we
consider what a Cardinal is. In the first place, he is one chosen
directly by the Pope; secondly, he is one of the Pope's advisers;
thirdly, when the Holy Father dies it is he, as a member of the Sacred
College, who has to elect a successor; furthermore, he swears
allegiance to the Sovereign Pontiff, and on bended knee, with his
hands on the Holy Gospels, he solemnly declares his adhesion to the
Roman Catholic Faith. No Anglican of the present day, no Protestant,
no one who is not an out-and-out Roman Catholic can be, or could ever
have been, a Cardinal, yet there were Cardinals here in the Church in
England, and, as we have stated, a long succession of them right up to
the time of the pseudo-Reformation. How can there be continuity and
spiritual identity between the Church _in_ England, which before that
change could and did have Cardinals, and the Church _of_ England
to-day, which can produce nothing of the kind? Cardinals or no
Cardinals is not a matter of great importance in itself, but it is
another "straw" which clearly shows the completely altered condition
of things. Let us pass to another point. During the period between the
sixth and sixteenth centuries there were many canonised saints in the
Church in England. I refer to such men as St. Bede, who lived in the
eighth century; to St. Odo of Canterbury; to St. Dunstan, Archbishop
of Canterbury, in the tenth century; to St. Wolstan of Worcester; to
St. Osmond, Bishop of Salisbury in the eleventh century; to St. Thomas
à Becket, in the twelfth century; to St. Richard, Bishop of
Chichester and St. Edmund, in the thirteenth century; and to many
others we could mention, whose names are enrolled in the lists of the
Catholic Church, and who are set up before her children as models of
virtue, as the most perfect specimens of sanctity, and as worthy of
our imitation--all members of the Church in England before the
pseudo-Reformation.[11] How is it that the present Church of England
has never canonised any saint? Those to whom I have referred represent
the best and truest of the Church in England before the "Reformation".
We still show them reverence. In many cases we even recite their
offices and Masses. How, then, can they be members of the same Church
as the Church of England of to-day, which we know to be a schismatical
body, cut off from the unity of Christendom some four hundred years
ago? There has been no saint canonised according to the rite of the
Church of England, but if there had been, we would not and could not
reverence them, for they would be to us outside the Church--aliens,
heretics, and, from that point of view at all events, unworthy of
imitation. Let us point out yet another "straw" which clearly
indicates the essential difference between the Church in England
before the "Reformation" and the Church of England after it. When the
young King Henry VIII. first came to the throne he, like all his
predecessors, both kings and queens, was a true Roman Catholic. So
much so, that when a doctrine of the Church was attacked he wrote a
book in its defence; in fact, the Pope was so pleased with his zeal
that he determined to reward him by conferring on him the title of
"Defender of the Faith". But, in the name of common-sense! Defender of
what Faith? Was it the Protestant faith? Was it the faith professed by
the present Church of England? Is it likely, is it possible, that any
Pope would confer such a title on any one who was not in union with
the Holy See, and who rejected Catholic doctrine? Such a thing is
unthinkable. Was the faith of Henry VIII. before the break with Rome
the same as that of Edward VII. who on his coronation day declared the
Mass to be false, Transubstantiation to be absurd, and Catholics to be
idolaters? If not, then what becomes of the continuity theory? The
fact is that between the Church in England before the sixteenth
century and the Church of England to-day there is no real connection,
no true resemblance, and those who endeavour to prove the contrary are
but falsifying history and throwing dust into the eyes of simple
people, and trying to prove what is absolutely and wholly untrue.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 11: As early as 1170 Pope Alexander III. decreed that the
consent of the Roman Church was necessary before public honour as a
saint could be given to any person. Is it conceivable that such
consent would be given by any Pope in the case of one not united to
Rome in the same faith?]
CHAPTER II.
THE OATH OF OBEDIENCE.
In order to realise the absolute absurdity of the continuity theory,
and to see how thoroughly Roman Catholic England was right up to the
"Reformation," it is enough for us to turn back the hands of the great
clock of time some few hundred years, and to visit England at any
period during the long interval between the sixth and the sixteenth
century.
One of the first facts that would strike any observant visitor to our
shores in those days, would be the attitude of the Church in England
towards the Holy See. Every Archbishop, every metropolitan from the
time of St. Augustine himself, A.D. 601, up to the sixteenth
century, not merely acknowledged the authority of the Pope, but
solemnly swore to show him reverence and obedience. Furthermore, even
when an Archbishop had been appointed and consecrated, he could not
exercise jurisdiction until he had received the sacred pallium, which
came from Rome, and was received as the symbol and token of the
authority conferred on him by the supreme Pastor. The pallium itself,
"taken from the body of Blessed Peter," is a band of lamb's wool, and
was worn by each Archbishop as the pledge of unity and of orthodoxy,
as well as the fetter of loving subjection to the Supreme Pastor of
the One Fold, the "apostolic yoke" of Catholic obedience.
In the early Saxon times, long before trains or steamers had been
invented, we find Primate after Primate of All England undertaking the
long and perilous journey over the sea, and then across the Continent
of Europe, and over the precipitous and dangerous passes of the Alps,
down through the sunny and vine-clad slopes of Italy, in order to
receive the pallium in person from the venerable successor of St.
Peter, in the great Basilica in Rome. But, whether they actually went
for it themselves in person, or whether special messengers were sent
with it from Rome to England, they always awaited its reception before
they considered themselves fully empowered to exercise their
metropolitan functions. By way of illustration, it may be interesting
to consider some special case, and we will then leave the reader to
judge whether we are dealing with an England that is _Catholic_ or an
England that is _Protestant_; with an England united to the Holy See
and to the rest of Catholic Europe, or an England independent of the
Holy See, isolated, and established by Law and Parliament, as it is
to-day--an England in possession of the truth, which is universal and
the same everywhere, or an England clinging to error, which is local,
national and circumscribed.
It does not much matter what name we select; any will answer our
purpose. Let us then take Simon Langham, as good and honest an English
name as ever there was. It is the year 1366, some two hundred years
before the Church in England cut itself off from the rest of
Christendom. The metropolitan See of Canterbury is vacant. The
widowed Diocese seeks, at the hands of the Pope, Urban V., a new
Archbishop. After mature inquiry and consideration the Pope selects
Simon Langham. And who is he? Who is this distinguished man, now
called to rule over that portion of the one Catholic Church
represented by England? If we study his history we shall find that he
in no way resembles the typical amiable Anglican Canon of the present
day, with a wife and children, living within the Cathedral close, but
that he is a simple, austere, Benedictine monk. He has been living for
some time past in the famous Abbey of Westminster. He was first a
simple monk, then he was chosen Prior, and finally Lord Abbot. Some
years later, _i.e._, in 1362, he was appointed to the vacant See of
Ely. By whom? Well, in those days the Church was not a mere department
of the State, so it was not by the Crown. No: nor by the Prime
Minister, as in the Anglican Church of to-day. But, as history
records, by a special Papal Bull. Thus, at the time we are now
considering, _viz._, 1366, he had been Bishop just four years. Now,
the Primatial throne of St. Augustine, as already stated, has become
vacant, and Simon Langham, the Bishop of Ely, is appointed Archbishop
of Canterbury, and Lord Primate of England.
As with all the other Archbishops before the "Reformation," he cannot
exercise his metropolitan powers till he has received from Rome the
insignia of his office, _viz._, the sacred pallium. On this occasion
the Archbishop does not go himself to Italy, to receive it from the
hands of the Sovereign Pontiff, but it is brought by special
messengers from Rome to England.
We may well imagine the interest these visitors from the Eternal City
would excite among the population of London. Their dark complexion and
bright, black eyes, and foreign appearance would, no doubt, attract
considerable attention. Of course they would be made welcome and be
shown the chief sights of the city. They would greatly admire, for
instance, the beauty of Westminster Abbey, and would probably ask its
history. Then they would be told how it originated with St. Edward the
Confessor. How he had made a vow to go on a pilgrimage to the tomb of
the Apostles at Rome, like a loyal Catholic, in order to pay homage to
the successor of St. Peter, whom Christ appointed as head of the
Church; how the pious King, finding his kingdom in danger of invasion,
and his authority threatened, and not daring to absent himself, begged
the Pope to release him from his vow; how the Pope at once commuted
it, and bade him build a church instead, in honour of St. Peter; and
so forth. Then they would very likely visit the inmates of the Abbey.
The Benedictine monks who served the Abbey would entertain them, and
ask after their brethren in Italy. Some of these English monks would
in all likelihood have been educated at Subiaco, where St. Benedict
first lived, or at Monte Cassino, where he died, and where his body
still lies. In any case, these English monks were undoubtedly true
children of St. Benedict, and followed his rule, and were animated by
his spirit, and rejoiced to acknowledge him as their founder and
spiritual father. There was nothing of the modern Anglican, and
nothing insular about them!
In the meantime the great day arrives. It is the 4th of November in
the year 1366. The bells of the Abbey are ringing a merry peal. The
Faithful are flocking in to witness the Archbishop receive the
Pallium, the symbol of jurisdiction, and the sign that all spiritual
authority emanates from St. Peter, who alone has received the keys,
and from his rightful successors in the Petrine See of Rome.
It is a grand ceremony, and we have even to-day, in the old Latin
records, a full account of what took place. Anything more truly Roman
Catholic, or less like the Anglican Church of the "Reformation," it
would be difficult to imagine.
It was directed by the rubrics, that the Cathedral clergy should be
called together, at an early hour, and that Prime and the rest of the
Divine Office should be recited, up to the High Mass. Then the
cross-bearers and torch-bearers and thurifers, and the attendants
carrying the Book of the Gospels and other articles of the sanctuary,
are drawn up in processional order in the chancel. Two and two,
followed by priests and other ecclesiastical dignitaries, they walk
down the nave. Then comes the Archbishop himself, robed in full
pontificals, though, out of respect to the Pallium, with bare feet.
The rubric on this point is explicit, _viz._, "nudis pedibus". Behind
the Archbishop come the Prior and the monks wearing copes. In this
order they all pass through the streets of London to the gate of the
city to meet the Papal Commissioner who bears the Pallium. He is
dressed in an alb and choir-cope, and solemnly carries the Pallium
enclosed in a costly vessel either of gold or of silver. As soon as
the procession meets the Pallium-bearer it turns round, and those who
issued forth retrace their steps towards the Abbey. Last but one walks
the Archbishop, and last of all follows the bearer of the Pallium. On
reaching the church the Pallium is reverently laid on the high altar.
The Archbishop then remains, for some minutes, prostrate in prayer
before the high altar. Then the choir having finished their singing,
the Archbishop rises, and turning to the assembled multitude, gives
them his blessing. He then approaches the altar, and with his hands
upon the holy Gospels, takes the following solemn oath.
Now, gentle reader, we are anxious that you should pay particular
attention to the words of this oath. They may be found in Wilkins'
_Concilia_ (vol. ii., p. 199), in the original Latin, just as they
were uttered by Simon Langham, and other Archbishops, in old Catholic
days. We give them translated into English. And, as you read them, ask
yourselves whether the Archbishops who uttered them were genuine Roman
Catholics, or merely Parliamentary Bishops of the local and national
variety, belonging to the present English Establishment.
We take our stand in spirit in Westminster Abbey, on the 4th day of
November, 1366, and, in common with the rest of the vast congregation
which fills every available space, we listen to the newly elected
Archbishop, as in clear, ringing words, with his hands on the Gospels,
he swears as follow:--
"I, Simon Langham, Archbishop of Canterbury, will be from this hour
henceforth faithful and obedient to St. Peter, and to the Holy
Apostolic Roman Church, and to my Lord the Pope, Urban V., and to his
canonical successors."
Surely, some of us would open our eyes pretty wide if we saw the
present Anglican Archbishop of Canterbury with his hands on the
Gospels taking that oath. Yet we are assured, _ad nauseam_, that the
Church to which Simon Cardinal Langham belonged is the same as the
present Church of England, which repudiates the authority of the Pope
altogether. The same? Well, yes; if light and darkness, and sweetness
and bitterness, are the same. But let us read the whole of the oath:
"I, Simon Langham, will be from this hour henceforth faithful and
obedient to St. Peter, and to the Holy Apostolic Roman Church, and to
my Lord the Pope, Urban V., and to his canonical successors. Neither
in counsel or consent or in deed, will I take part in aught by which
they might suffer loss of life, or limb, or liberty. Their counsel
which they may confide to me, whether by their envoys or their letter,
I will, to their injury, wittingly disclose to no man. The Roman
Papacy and the royalty of St. Peter, I will be their helper to defend
and to maintain, saving my order, against all men. When summoned to a
Synod I will come, unless hindered by a canonical impediment. The
Legate of the Apostolic See I will treat honourably in his coming and
going, and will help him in his needs. Every third year I will visit
the threshold of the Apostles, either personally or by proxy, unless I
am dispensed by Apostolic licence. The possessions which pertain to
the support of my Archbishopric, I will not sell, nor give away, nor
pledge, nor re-enfeoff, nor alienate in any way, without first
consulting the Roman Pontiff. So help me, God, and these God's Holy
Gospels."
If you, who read these lines, had stood by, and listened to this oath,
would it leave any doubt in your minds as to the religion of the
Archbishop? Could you possibly mistake it for the religion of the
present Church of England?
Was the present Anglican Archbishop of Canterbury chosen and appointed
by the Pope? Did he take a vow of celibacy? Does the present
Archbishop acknowledge publicly and officially that he receives his
jurisdiction from the Pope? Did he receive the Pallium from Rome, sent
by special Papal messengers? Did he stand up and swear on the Gospels
that he would be faithful and obedient to his Lord the Pope? Did he
promise to visit Rome every three years, to give his Lord the Pope an
account of his diocese? Nothing of the kind. Yet we are gravely told
that there is no break between the Church of St. Anselm, and Simon
Langham, and of Cardinal Fisher, on the one hand, and the Church of
the present Archbishop of Canterbury on the other!
Why are these good men so exceedingly anxious to prove that black is
white? Why will they assert and re-assert, in every mood and tense,
that things most opposite are identical, and things most unlike are
exactly the same?
We will deal with that question in the next chapter. All we now affirm
is that the reason is abundantly clear and evident, though little
creditable to these perverters of history.
CHAPTER III.
THE AWKWARD DILEMMA.
In the whole catalogue of sin, there is hardly one so detestable in
itself, or so withering in its effects, as the sin of heresy.
Consequently, though we feel a great love as well as a great interest
in the Church in England during the thousand years in which she formed
a part of the Church of God, we can have little love for the present
Church of England, as by law established, cut off, as she is, from the
only true Church, which Christ, the Incarnate God, was pleased in His
infinite wisdom to build upon St. Peter, and upon those who should
succeed him in his sublime office, and who have received the Divine
Commission to rule over the entire flock, to hold the keys of the
kingdom of heaven, and to confirm their brethren to the end of time.
Besides, a careful study of the origin and genesis of the present
Anglican Establishment is scarcely calculated to predispose any one
particularly in its favour. It is not Catholics only who might be
thought biased upon such a point, but others also who feel this. In
fact, it is precisely impartial men, unaffected by any interest either
way, who most fully realise from what a very shady beginning the new
state of things arose. As Sir Osborne Morgan puts it, "Every student
of English history knows that, if a very bad king had not fallen in
love with a very pretty woman, and desired to get divorced from his
plain and elderly wife, and if he had not compelled a servile
Parliament to carry out his wishes, there would, in all human
probability, never have been an Established Church at all."
This gentleman is a Protestant, and the son of a Protestant clergyman,
so we may be quite sure that he harbours no special leanings towards
us, yet he speaks impartially as one who has not only read history,
but read it without coloured spectacles. Perhaps Lord Macaulay puts
the case as bluntly as any one, and we may as well quote him because
he, too, was no Catholic, and held no brief for the Church of Rome.
This brilliant writer, who was, perhaps, an historian before all
things, tells us that the work of the Reformation was the work, not of
three saints, nor even of three ordinary decent men, but of three
notorious murderers! These are not our words, but Macaulay's, and it
is not our fault if this is his reading of history. We merely summon
him as a Protestant witness. He calmly and deliberately states that
the Reformation was "begun by Henry VIII., the murderer of his wives;
was continued by Somerset, the murderer of his brother; and was
completed by Elizabeth, the murderer of her guest". Not a very
auspicious beginning, it must be confessed, and scarcely suggestive of
the Divine afflatus. Those who planted the Catholic Church used no
violence, and did not inflict death. No! on the contrary, they endured
death, and their blood became the seed of the Church. And that is
quite another story. In former days every one admitted the present
Anglican Church to be the child of the Reformation. It was, to quote
the Protestant historian, Child, "as completely the creation of Henry
VIII., Edward's Council, and Elizabeth as Saxon Protestantism was of
Luther." But now? Oh! now, "nous avons changé tout cela," and history
has received a totally different setting. A certain section of
Anglicans, in these modern times, are labouring hard to persuade
themselves and others that they can trace their Church back to the
time of St. Augustine. They will by no means allow that they started
into being only in the sixteenth century. In fact, it is quite
pathetic to watch the strenuous efforts they make, and the extravagant
means to which they have recourse, in order to lull themselves into
the peaceful enjoyment of so sweet and consoling a delusion.
A delusion which a candid study of past history must sooner or later
ruthlessly dispel, and which has not a shred of foundation in fact to
support it. But we promised to point out WHY, in spite of
its absolute absurdity, these good men, like the Bishop of London,
persist in repeating and restating with ever-increasing vehemence that
there has been no break in the continuity, and that the present Church
of England is one with the Church of St. Bede, of St. Dunstan, of St.
Anselm, of St. Thomas, and of other pre-Reformation heroes; though
they must surely know that there is not one amongst these glorious old
Catholic saints who would not a thousand times sooner have gone to the
stake and been burnt alive, than have accepted the Thirty-nine
Articles, or than have joined the present Bishop of London in any of
his religious services. Why do Anglicans make such heroic efforts to
connect their Church with the past? Why do they advance an impossible
theory? Why will they stubbornly affirm what history utterly denies?
Why do they assert, and with such emphasis, what no one but they
themselves have the hardihood to believe? Why? For precisely the same
reason that will induce a drowning man to grasp at a straw. In short,
because even if they did not realise it before, they are now
beginning to see that their very position depends upon their being
able to make out some sort of case for continuity. They realise that
to admit that the Church of England began in the sixteenth century is
simply to cut the ground from underneath their feet. Therefore, purely
in self-defence, they feel themselves constrained to cling to the
continuity theory. It may be absurd, it may be unhistorical, it may be
impossible and utterly repudiated by every impartial and honest man.
That cannot be helped. Impossible or not impossible; true or false, it
is necessary for their very existence, so that, just as a drowning man
catches at a straw, though it cannot possibly support him, so do these
most unfortunate and hardly-pressed men clutch at and cling to the
hollow theory of continuity. Sometimes, when off their guard, and in a
less cautious mood, they will confess as much themselves. And what is
more, we can provide our readers with an instance of such a
confession. Many will well remember a well-known and distinguished
Anglican divine, named Canon Malcolm MacColl. He died a few years ago,
and we do not wish to say anything against him. Well, he wrote to _The
Spectator_ in 1900. His letter may be seen in the issue of 22nd
December for that year. In the course of this letter he makes the
following admission: he declares that "to concede that the Church of
England starts from the reign of Henry VIII. or Elizabeth is to
surrender the whole ground of controversy with Rome. A Church," he
continues, "which cannot trace its origin beyond the sixteenth century
is obviously not the Church which Christ founded."
The late Anglican Canon MacColl is, of course, perfectly right, and
his inference is strictly logical. A Church, however highly
respectable and however richly endowed, which came into existence only
1,500 years after Christ, came into existence just 1,500 years too
late, and cannot by any intellectual manoeuvring or stretching of the
imagination be identified with the one Church established by Christ
1,500 years earlier. Consequently every member of the Anglican
community finds himself, _nolens volens_, impaled on the horns of a
truly frightful dilemma. For either he must frankly confess that his
Church is not the Church of God, _i.e._, not the True Church, which
(human nature being what it is) he can hardly be expected to do; or
else he must assert that it goes back without any real break to the
time of the Apostles; which though absolutely untrue, is the only
other alternative. In a word, he finds himself in a very tight corner.
He knows, unless he is able to persuade himself of the truth of
continuity, the very ground of his faith must slip from under his
feet, and that he must give up pretending to be a member of Christ's
mystical body altogether.
No wonder there is consternation in the Anglican camp. No wonder that
sermons are preached, and history is re-edited and facts suppressed,
and pamphlets are circulated to prove that black is white and that
bitterness is sweet, and that false is true. No wonder there are shows
and pageants and other attempts to prove the thing that is not. Poor
deluded mortals! It is really pitiable to witness such straining and
such pulling at the cords; as though truth--solid, imperturbable,
eternal truth--could ever be dislodged or forced out of existence! No!
They may disguise the truth for a time, they may hide it for a brief
period; just as a child, with a box of matches and a handful of straw,
may, for awhile, hide the eternal stars. But as the stars are still
there, and will appear again when the smoke has blown away, so will
the truth reappear and assert itself, when men grow calm, and put
aside pride and passion and prejudice and self-interest. "Magna est
veritas, et prevalebit!"
It has been said: "Mundus vult decipi"; the world wishes to be
deceived; certainly the Anglican world does. But no one else is taken
in. The Dissenter, the Nonconformist, and others who have no axe to
grind, know well that "fine words butter no parsnips," and are far too
shrewd to be deluded. Why, even the old Catholic cathedrals with
their holy-water stoups, their occasional altars of stone, still
remaining, their Lady chapels, and their niches for the images of the
saints, as ill befit the present occupiers, and their modern English
services, as a Court dress befits a clown.
That the sublime grotesqueness of the whole contention is clearly
visible to other besides Catholic eyes is clearly proved by the
occasional observations of the non-Catholic Press. Here, again, we
will offer the gentle reader a specimen. The _Daily News_ is one of
London's big dailies. It has a wide circulation. It is representative
of a large section of the English people. Let us select a passage from
one of its leaders. Speaking of the arrogance of the Anglican Church,
which, as compared to the Catholic Church, is but a baby, still in
long clothes, it gives expression to its views in the following
caustic lines. One might almost imagine it were the _Tablet_ or
_Catholic Times_ that we are about to quote from, but, nothing of the
kind, it is the Nonconformist organ, the _Daily News_. It writes:
"The Anglicans may still persist in patronising the Roman Catholics as
a new set of modern dissidents under the old name. It is the sort of
vengeance which, under favourable circumstances, the mouse may enjoy
at the expense of the elephant. If he can mount high enough by
artificial means, the smallest of created things may contrive to look
down on the greatest, and to affect to compassionate his want of
range. For purposes of controversy, the Anglican could talk of himself
as a terrestrial ancient-of-days, and regret the rage for innovation,
which led, not, of course, to his separation from Rome, but to Rome's
separation from him! So the pebble, if determined to put a good face
on it, might wonder what had become of the rock, and recite the
parable of the return of the prodigal to the Atlas Range"; and so
forth. The fact is that every unprejudiced man, who has so much as a
mere bowing acquaintance with the facts of history, knows perfectly
well that before the sixteenth century the Church in England was
united to the Holy See, and rested where Christ Himself had built it,
_viz._, on Peter, the rock. Whereas, after the sixteenth century, it
became a State Church, dependent, not on Peter, but upon Parliament,
and as purely local, national, and English as the British Army or the
British Navy. Bramhall tells us that, "whatsoever power our laws did
divest the Pope of, they invested the King with" (_Schism Guarded_, p.
340).
We dealt in the last chapter with the relation between the
pre-Reformation Archbishops and Metropolitans and the Pope, and we saw
how each in turn swore obedience to the Vicar of Christ as his
spiritual sovereign. We will now conclude the present chapter by
transcribing a typical address presented by another representative
body of men to the Pope, in past times. It is the year 1427. Now
Chicheley, the Archbishop of Canterbury, had been accused at Rome of
some fault or indiscretion, so the other Bishops of the province met
together for the purpose of defending him. With this end in view,
they address a letter to Pope Martin V. It begins as follows:--
"Most Blessed Father, one and only undoubted Sovereign Pontiff, Vicar
of Jesus Christ upon earth, with all promptitude of service and
obedience, kissing most devoutly your blessed feet," and so forth.
They then proceed to defend their Metropolitan, and in doing so
declare that "the Archbishop of Canterbury is, Most Blessed Father, a
most devoted son of your Holiness and of the Holy Roman Church". Nay,
more; they go on to testify that "he is so rooted in his loyalty, and
so unshaken in his allegiance especially to the Roman Church, that it
is known to the whole world, and ought to be known to the city
(_i.e._, Rome) that he is the most faithful son of the Church of Rome,
promoting and securing, with all his strength, the guarantees of her
liberty".
Now, what we wish to know is, how in the world can a man be "the most
faithful son of the Church of Rome," so rooted in his loyalty to her
that "his allegiance is known to the whole world," and yet not be a
Roman Catholic? The Bishops then add that "they go down upon their
knees" to beseech the Pope's favour for the Archbishop, and in doing
so declare that they are "the most humble sons of your Holiness and of
the Roman Church".
Then Archbishop Chicheley follows up their letter, by writing one
himself, in which he says: "Most Blessed Father, kissing most
devotedly the ground beneath your feet, with all promptitude of
service and obedience, and whatsoever a most humble creature can do
towards his lord and master" (_i.e._, domino et creatori--literally
"creator," in the sense that the Pope had made or "created" him
archbishop) and so forth. Then he goes on to explain that "Long before
now, were it not for the perils of the journey and the infirmities of
my old age, I would have made my way, Most Blessed Father, to your
feet, and have accepted most obediently whatsoever your Holiness would
have decided" (see Wilkins, vol. iii. pp. 471 and 486). Surely, no
Archbishop or Bishop could use language of such profound reverence
and of such perfect loyalty and obedience, unless he recognised the
Pope as the true representative of Christ upon earth, invested with
His divine authority ("To Thee do I give the keys of the Kingdom of
Heaven"). There is a whole world of difference between such men and
the Anglican Prelates of to-day who take the oath of homage to the
King, and say: "I do hereby declare that your Majesty is the only
supreme governor of this your realm, in spiritual and ecclesiastical
things, as well as temporal".
CHAPTER IV.
KING EDWARD AND THE POPE.
In a previous chapter, we promised to tell of a famous letter written
by one of our greatest kings to the Pope of his day. Let us then
introduce this interesting historical incident without further
preamble or delay.
The King of whom we are about to speak is King Edward III., who
reigned over this land for more than fifty years, that is to say, from
1327 to 1377. The historian Hume tells us that, in general estimation,
his reign was not only one of the longest, but that it was considered
also "one of the most glorious that occurs in the annals of our
nation" (vol. ii., p. 297). It is important to remember, further, that
Edward was no timid weakling, ready to yield to others through
weakness or fear. Quite the contrary. He was strong, war-like, and
courageous. Hume informs us that "he curbed the licentiousness of the
great; that he made his foremost nobles feel his power, and that they
dared not even murmur against it, and that his valour and conduct made
his knights and warriors successful in most of their enterprises"
(_id._, p. 497). Yet, in spite of his strong, independent and man-like
character--or shall we not rather say because of it?--he ever showed
himself to be a most loyal child of the Catholic Church. He considered
it no indication of weakness to acknowledge the spiritual supremacy
and jurisdiction of the Sovereign Pontiff, and to subscribe himself as
a most obedient son of the Vicar of Jesus Christ, as we shall now
proceed to prove, in spite of all the frogs and jackdaws that the
Bishop of London appeals to as witnesses to the contrary.
Now, it so fell out that, in the second decade of his reign, certain
persons, with perhaps more zeal than discretion, began to lodge sundry
complaints against the King. They carried stories to Rome, and sought
to prejudice the Pope, Benedict XII., against King Edward. In the
course of time the King got wind of what was going on, and found that
the suspicions of the Pope had been raised against him. Now, what did
Edward do? If he had been a modern Anglican, he would have snapped his
fingers at the Pope. Forgetful of Our Lord's words, "Unless you become
as little children you shall not enter the Kingdom of heaven," he
would have proudly declared that no Pope or foreign Bishop could claim
any jurisdiction in England, for that he himself was, in his own
realm, the supreme authority in things ecclesiastical as well as in
things temporal. Such would have been the natural and obvious course
for him to have taken. That is to say had he been a modern Anglican.
But since he was not a modern Anglican, but a genuine Roman Catholic
to his very backbone, like all the rest of his kingdom, he did not act
in that imperious, off-hand way, but was very much distressed and
concerned, as a loving son would be, who had incurred the displeasure
of a generous father. Finally, in the thirteenth year of his reign,
that is to say, in 1339, he determined to address a letter to the
Sovereign Pontiff, firstly to protest against these accusations,
secondly to assure the Pope of his innocence, and thirdly to beg him
to take no notice of those who had been calumniating him.
The document is a very remarkable one, and from the point of view of
continuity (of which it completely disposes) it is of very
considerable interest.
Before you read it, and ponder over its contents, let me remind you
that the writing of a letter in those days was a very serious
business. There was no post such as we have now, and special couriers
had to be despatched from London to Rome. Paper had not as yet been
invented, so the message had to be carefully written, by paid scribes,
on vellum or parchment. Further, a letter from a King to the Pope was
not a thing to be dashed off on the spur of the moment, but to be
carefully thought out, and expressed with great accuracy. The King
would summon his advisers, and his Secretary of State, and probably
consult some of the Bishops and weigh each word before committing his
message to parchment. In short, the document would represent his own
deliberate convictions as well as those of his official advisers and
counsellors.
After addressing the Pope in the usual respectful and filial way, he
says: "Let not the envious information of our detractors find place in
the meek mind of your Holiness, or create any sinister opinion of a
son" [observe the King calls himself a son of the Pope], "who after
the manner of his predecessors" [so previous Kings were as loyal as
he] "shall always firmly persist in amity and obedience to the
Apostolic See. Nay, if any such evil suggestion concerning your son
should knock for entrance at your Holiness's ears, let no belief be
allowed it till the son who is concerned be heard, who trusts and
always intends both to say and to prove that each of his actions is
just before the tribunal of your Holiness, _presiding over every
creature, which to deny is to maintain heresy_." Nothing could be
stronger than this last sentence; but we will return to that later.
Then the King goes on to speak of others, who are dependent upon him,
and proceeds as follows: "And further, this we say, adjoining it as a
further evidence of our intention and greater devotion, that if there
be any one of our kindred or allies who walks not as he ought in the
way of _obedience towards the Apostolic See_, we intend to bestow our
diligence--and we trust to no little purpose--that leaving his
wandering course, he may return into the path of duty and walk
regularly for the future".
From these words it is clear that the King of England, not satisfied
with obeying the Pope himself, likewise insisted upon all under his
authority obeying him likewise. Indeed, he would have made short work
of those who should refuse to do so. Then, alluding to some reproach,
admonition or censure which he had received from the Pope, he goes on
to express himself in words strangely out of harmony with the whole
tone and spirit of modern Anglicanism. They are as follows:--
"That the Kings of England, our predecessors, those illustrious
champions of Christ, those defenders of the Faith, those" [listen!]
"_zealous asserters of the rights of the Holy Roman Church, and devout
observers of her commands_, that they or we should deserve this
unkindness, we neither know nor believe. And though, for this very
reason many do say--though we say not so--that this aiding of our
enemies against us, seems neither the act of a father nor of a mother
towards us, but rather of a stepmother; yet this notwithstanding, we
constantly avow that we are" [remember, it is still the King of
England speaking], "and shall continue to be, to your Holiness and to
your seat, a devout and humble son, and not a step-son".
Can any one imagine greater reverence or greater loyalty to the Vicar
of Christ than is shown forth in these words? Can you, dear readers,
by any stretch of the imagination, conceive any one who is not a Roman
Catholic giving vent to such sentiments as are here expressed? Have
words lost their plain meaning for the Bishop of London, and for those
who (we must in charity suppose, _blindly_) follow him?
The letter is a long one, and we need not transcribe the whole of it,
but we will offer for your consideration just one more paragraph. The
King writes: "Your Holiness best knows the measure of good and just,
in whose hands are the keys to open and to shut the gates of heaven on
earth, as the _fulness of your power_ and the excellence of your
judicature requires.... We being ready to receive information of the
truth, from your sacred tribunal, _which is over all_," etc.
Observe these words were written over five hundred years ago, long
before the present Anglican Establishment was so much as dreamed of;
yet, even if King Edward III. had actually foreseen the craze that
would seize Anglicans of to-day to prove that he, and his subjects
were not loyal Roman Catholics, he could not have expressed his
Catholicity and his loyalty to the Vicar of Christ in more
unmistakable or in more explicit terms.
Whom shall we believe? King Edward III. himself, who, in the above
words, declares he is a staunch Roman Catholic, and an obedient son of
the Pope, ready to defend his rights against all, or the present
Bishop of London, who declares he was not?
There is one sentence in the King's letter which is especially worthy
of consideration, as it is so pregnant with meaning. We refer to the
following: knowing that "your Holiness presides over every creature,
_which to deny is heresy_".
You will observe that the King not only believes, but that he here
practically makes an explicit profession of faith in the spiritual
supremacy of St. Peter and his successors, the Popes. In fact, he not
only admits and confesses the Pope's supremacy to be true, which is
one thing, but he declares it to be a _revealed_ truth, taught by Our
Blessed Lord Himself, which is a great deal more. How does he do this?
Suffer us to explain.
To deny any truth of religion is wrong and sinful, but it is not
necessarily and always heretical. Heresy is not the denial of any kind
of truth: it is the denial only of a special form of truth. It is the
denial of those truths which have been taught by Jesus Christ and the
Apostles. But the King explicitly declares in his letter to the Holy
Father that to deny the Pope's spiritual supremacy over all is not
only wrong, not only sinful, but that it is to be guilty of the
specially horrible sin of heresy. His words are: "It is to maintain
heresy". Yet Anglicans still fondly cling to the delusion that the
Church in England in the time of Edward III. is in unbroken continuity
with the Church of England in the time of King Edward VII.!
But, to continue. It is interesting to note that the Pope, Benedict
XII., in due course replies to this letter from his "devout and humble
son," as Edward describes himself. He begins by expressing his
satisfaction that His "most dear Son in Christ King Edward of England"
should thus "follow the commendable footsteps of your progenitors,
Kings of England who," he goes on to say, "were famous for the fulness
of their devotion and faith towards God and the Holy Roman Church".
Will the present Bishop of London, we wonder, be good enough to
explain how Pope Benedict XII. could possibly tell a renowned King of
England that his progenitors, that is to say, the Kings of England who
had preceded him, were famous--mark the word--"_famous_ for the
_fulness_ of their devotion and faith towards God _and the Holy Roman
Church_," if they were all the while cut off from the Roman Church,
and denounced as heretics by that Church, if, in short, they were of
one and the same faith as the Anglicans are to-day? We pause for a
reply. Of course we know that Anglicans are very hard pressed, and in
a quandary, and that some allowance must be made for drowning men when
they stretch forth their trembling hands to clutch at straws. But
really the claim to continuity, however vital to them, should hardly
be put forward in the face of such clear and overwhelming evidence of
its falsity. The ultimate effects of such vain efforts to prove black
to be white can only be to make them ridiculous, and to discredit them
in the eyes of honest men.
In conclusion, we are persuaded that some may feel curious or
interested to see and read King Edward's letter for themselves, and in
its entirety. Some may even wish to satisfy themselves that we are
stating actual facts, and not romancing; so let us inform any such
persons that the letter quoted belongs to the thirteenth year of King
Edward III.'s reign (An. Regni xiii. Ed. Rex III.). The original, if
not at the Vatican, should be either at the Record Office or at the
British Museum. The English version, of which we have made use, may be
found on pages 126-30 of _The History of Edward III._, by J. Barnes,
Fellow of Emmanuel College, Cambridge, and published in 1688. Had this
history been composed in more modern times, this famous letter to Pope
Benedict would probably have been quietly suppressed or omitted.
But in 1688 the theory of continuity had not been invented by the
father of lies, to bolster up a lost cause, so the letter actually
appears in Barnes' History, to tell its own unvarnished tale: and to
bear its uncompromising testimony to the truth.
In the meanwhile, time wears on, and the end draws near when each man
will have to give an account of his life and conduct to the Supreme
Judge of the living and the dead. And it will go hard with us if we
turn our back upon the truth. God is speaking in this England of ours,
and shedding His light, and many are finding their way back to that
glorious Faith of which they were cruelly robbed at the "Reformation".
"To-day, if you shall hear His voice, harden not your hearts," but
lend an attentive ear to His invitation, and pray that you may have
courage enough to join hands once again with Bede, and Dunstan,
Anselm, and Thomas à Becket, and with Edward III. and his royal
predecessors, all faithful sons of St. Peter and the Holy See, and to
enter that Church which was built by God Incarnate on Peter, and upon
no other foundation; which still rests securely upon Peter, and which
(if there be any truth in God's promises) will continue to rest on
Peter till the end of time. "Upon this Rock (Peter) will I build My
Church, and the gates of hell (_i.e._, the powers of darkness) shall
never prevail against it."
=Also by Rt. Rev. JOHN S. VAUGHAN, D.D.,=
=Bishop of Sebastopol.=
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End of Project Gutenberg's The Purpose of the Papacy, by John S. Vaughan