"The Infallibility, whether of the Church or of the Pope," says Cardinal Newman, "acts principally or solely in two channels, (a) in direct statement of truth, and (b) in the condemnation of error. The former takes the shape of doctrinal definitions, the latter stigmatises propositions as 'heretical,' 'next to heresy,' 'erroneous,' and the like" (p. 136).

The gift of Infallibility, observes Cardinal Manning, "extends directly to the whole matter of divine truth, and indirectly to all truths which, though not revealed, are in such contact with revelation that the deposit of faith and morals cannot be guarded, expounded, and defended, without an infallible discernment of such unrevealed truths" (Vatican Decrees, p. 167).

8. To sum up: Persons who refuse to assent to doctrines which they know to be directly revealed and defined, or which are universally held by the Church as of Catholic Faith, become by that very act guilty of heresy, and cut themselves adrift from the mystical Body of Christ, and are no longer His members. If, on the other hand, their assent is refused only to doctrines closely connected with these dogmatic utterances, and which, as such, are proposed for their acceptance, they become guilty, if not of actual heresy, then of something perilously akin to it, and are, at all events, guilty of serious sin.

We may observe, in conclusion, that the Infallibility of Pontifical definitions, as Father Humphrey so pertinently reminds us, does not depend upon the reigning Pontiff's possession of any real knowledge of ancient Church history or theology, or philosophy or science, but simply and solely upon the assistance of God the Holy Ghost, guaranteed to him in his exercise of his function of Chief Pastor, in feeding with divine doctrine the entire flock of God. Our Anglican friends seem penetrated with the utterly false notion of justification by scholarship alone; which is as untrue as it is unscriptural. Indeed, their justification by scholarship is likely to lead to very undesirable and deplorable results.

In the foregoing chapter we have considered especially the Pope's Infallible authority, and the assent and obedience due to it. In our next it remains for us to consider the proper attitude of a loyal Catholic towards the Sovereign Pontiff as the supreme ruler and governor of the Church of God, even when not speaking ex cathedra.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 7: The word soma, observes Mgr. Capel, is never used in Greek to express mere association or aggregation (Catholic, p. 13).]

[Footnote 8: From a Pastoral of the Swiss Bishops, which received the Pope's approbation.]



CHAPTER VI.

THE POPE'S ORDINARY AUTHORITY.

1. When the Holy Father speaks ex cathedra, 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 cathedra 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 cathedra 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 cathedra, "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 AEternus, 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 dipendera il Pontefice nell' esercizio del suo potere Spirituale? Dai Re? 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 a 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 change 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 a 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."



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4. THOUGHTS FOR ALL TIMES. The Eighteenth Edition is now in preparation. Pages 436. Price 5s. net.

"Clear and well-written expositions, rich in illustrations and adorned in places with beautiful and sublime language."—Whitehall Review.

"We would be glad to see a copy in every household in the land. It needs only to be known to have its merits appreciated."—H.E. Cardinal GIBBONS.

5. LIFE AFTER DEATH. Fourteenth Edition. Pages 245. Price 2s. net.

"Popular, luminous, eloquent, and persuasive. It is carefully thought out, and forms a massive argument of great value."—The Gentleman's Journal.

"This work cannot but exercise a pleasing charm over the reader, and serve to hold his attention spell-bound throughout."—Catholic Times.

6. DANGERS OF THE DAY.

"An admirable book. Just what is wanted."

7. THE PURPOSE OF THE PAPACY; and, THE ANGLICAN THEORY OF CONTINUITY. Just Published. Price 1s. 6d.

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"HOW I CAME TO DO IT; or, How Parson Blackswhite gave up his Vow of Celibacy." A Holiday Sketch. Pages 300. 2s. 6d. net. Edited by Monsignor VAUGHAN.

A PRIEST writes: "I read this novel, and laughed and laughed till the tears rolled down my cheeks."

The Lamp says: "It is as instructive as it is amusing, and as amusing as it is instructive."

The well-known French paper L'Univers says: "Ce livre est charmant, et tres interessant et meriterait d'etre traduit en francais".

How I Came to Do It is now being put into French by M. l'abbe P. Secher, with the title Les Raisons de ma Decision.

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THE END