The next day Garnet and Hall were examined separately, when they were charged with having held a private conference. Garnet denied the fact in the most decided terms. The parties who heard the conversation were then produced: nor could Garnet object anything against their statements.

Garnet said on his trial that he once thought of revealing the plot, but not the conspirators. Cecil asked who hindered him from making the discovery; to whom he replied, “You, yourself; for I knew you would have racked this poor body of mine to pieces, to make me confess.” Fuller remarks on this assertion and in allusion to the interview with Hall, that “never any rack was used on Garnet, except a witrack, wherewith he was worsted, and this cunning archer outshot in his own bow. For being in prison with Father Oldcorn alias Hall, they were put into an equivocating room (as I may term it) which pretended nothing but privacy, yet had a reservation of some invisible persons within it, ear witnesses to all the passages betwixt them.”

These confessions, denials, evasions, and palliations were defended by Garnet under the plea of lawful equivocation, a doctrine then at least taught very generally in the church of Rome. Under shelter of this plea the jesuits were prepared, not merely to conceal or to deny any fact, but also to aver what they knew to be false. It was urged, and in books too, that such a course might be adopted on the ground that the parties reserved in their own minds a secret and private sense. Thus any question might be eluded: and this practice was publicly defended in a treatise licensed by Garnet and Blackwall. Certain instances are given in the work as illustrations of the doctrine. The following is one of these cases. A man arrives at a certain place, and is examined on oath at the gate, whether he came from London, where the plague is supposed to be raging at the time. The man, knowing that the plague is not in London, or that he did no more than pass through that city, may swear that he did not come from London. It is argued, that such an answer would agree with their intention, who proposed the question simply with a view to ascertaining, whether their own city would be endangered by his entrance. Such was the doctrine of equivocation, under the plea of which Garnet sheltered himself when he denied many things which were proved against him, and which he had himself confessed. Even Sir Everard Digby resorted to this papal doctrine of equivocation, as will be seen from the following extracts from his letters discovered in 1675, and published by Bishop Barlow, in 1679:—“Yesterday I was before Mr. Attorney and my Lord Chief Justice, who asked me if I had taken the sacrament to keep secret the plot as others did. I said that I had not, because I would avoid the question of at whose hands it were.”—“I have not as yet acknowledged the knowledge of any priest in particular, nor will not do to the hurt of any but myself, whatsoever betide me.” Speaking of a particular priest, he says in another letter; “I have not been asked his name, which if I had, should have been such a one as I knew not of.” Again; “If I be called to question for the priest, I purpose to name him Winscombe, unless I be advised otherwise.” And, alluding to the same in a subsequent letter—“You forget to tell me whether Winscombe be a fit name. I like it, for I know none of it.” In another letter—“As yet they have not got of me the affirming that I know any priest particularly, nor shall ever do to the hurt of any one but myself.” It is evident that he deemed it lawful to deny anything calculated to bring reproach on his church; and that he did not scruple to give a false name on his examination. From the manner in which he speaks, there can be no doubt, that he believed he might lawfully equivocate. And from whom had he learned this monstrous doctrine? From the church and her authorized teachers!!

The earl of Salisbury alluded on the trial to his denial of the conversation with Hall, reminding him that he was not questioned as to the matter of their conferences, but simply as to the fact. Hall confessed the fact, and Garnet, though he had so strongly denied it, then admitted the whole. On being reminded of the matter by Cecil, he replied, that when a man is asked a question before a magistrate he is not bound to give an answer quia nemo tenetur prodere seipsum.

Tresham, who died in the Tower, accused Garnet of a previous treason in entering into a league with the king of Spain against England. Before his death he was permitted to see his wife, who was aware of his confession respecting Garnet. Under her influence he dictated to his servant, being too weak to use a pen himself, that he had not seen Garnet during the last sixteen years, and retracted his previous confession in which he admitted the contrary. Now it was proved, and acknowledged by Garnet, that they had met several times within the last two years. Garnet was asked to explain Tresham’s conduct; and his reply was, “I think he meant to equivocate.”

Tresham died within three hours after dictating this letter. Mrs. Vaux, however, confessed that she had seen Tresham with Garnet at her house three or four times since the accession of King James, and that they had dined together with her. Garnet also publicly acknowledged that he had seen Tresham. A second confession of Mrs Vaux’s was also read in the court, in which she admits that she was with Garnet at Tresham’s house in Northamptonshire not long since.

Garnet made a long defence at the bar; and on the question of equivocation he defended himself with much subtilty. He declared that the church of Rome condemned lying; but he justified equivocation, which, he said, was “to defend the use of certain propositions. For a man may be asked of one, who hath no authority to interrogate or examine, concerning something which belongeth not to his cognizance who asketh, as what a man thinketh, &c. So then no man may equivocate when he ought to tell the truth, otherwise he may.” When he was reminded that he had denied that he had written to Tesmond alias Greenwell, or sent messages to him, he said he would not have denied his letters if he had known that the lords had seen them; but supposing that they had not been seen he did deny them, and that he might lawfully do so. This has been confirmed by the papers in the State Paper Office. There is amongst these papers an original letter, in Garnet’s own hand, to Mrs. Vaux, in which he acknowledged that he was so pressed by the testimony of two witnesses who overheard the conversation between Hall and himself, that he was, at length, determined to confess all rather than stand the torture or trial by witnesses.

Garnet endeavoured to shelter himself from the guilt of the plot, under the plea, that the treason was revealed to him under the seal of confession. At first he endeavoured to deny that he was acquainted with any particulars; but being forced from this subterfuge, he admitted his knowledge, but contended that he was bound to conceal all that he knew. He acknowledged also that he had concealed the treason with Spain. “Only,” says he, “I must needs confess, I did conceal it after the example of Christ, who commands us, when our brother offends to reprove him, for if he do amend we have gained him.” With respect to the Powder Treason he acknowledged, that Greenwell came to him in great perplexity in consequence of what Catesby had intimated. He consented to hear it, provided the fact of his doing so should not be revealed to Catesby, or to any other person. Greenwell then revealed the whole plot. He confessed that he was greatly distressed on the subject, “and sometimes prayed to God that it should not take effect.” On being questioned why he did not reveal the conspiracy he stated that, “he might not disclose it to any, because it was matter of secret confession, and would endanger the lives of divers men.” Cecil said, “I pray you, Mr. Garnet, what encouraged Catesby that he might proceed, but your resolving him in the first proposition? What warranted Faukes, but Catesby’s explication of Garnet’s arguments? As appears infallibly by Winter’s confession, and by Faukes, that they knew the point had been resolved to Mr. Catesby, by the best authority.” It was evident, therefore, that he did not merely conceal the matter; but that he was an active instigator of the conspiracy.[22]

With respect to Garnet’s knowledge of the conspiracy, it is perfectly clear that the matter was not merely revealed in confession, but that he was one of the actors therein. Nor was the plea of confession consistent with some of his own declarations during his examinations. He admitted, that the treason was mentioned to him in the way of consultation, as a thing not yet executed; and moreover Greenwell did not implicate himself; he merely told of others, and consequently the seal of confession would not have been broken, even if Garnet had revealed the whole to the government. He chose, however, on his trial, to adopt this line of defence, namely, that he was not at liberty to disclose anything which was revealed to him in sacramental confession. One of the lords asked him if a man should confess to-day, that he intended to kill the king to-morrow with a dagger, whether he must conceal the matter? Garnet replied that he must conceal it. Parsons, the jesuit, maintains the same opinion. Speaking of Garnet, he remarks, that nothing was proved, “but that the prisoner had received only a simple notice of that treason, by such a means as he could not utter and reveal again by the laws of Catholic doctrine, that is to say, in confession, and this but a very few days before the discovery, but yet never gave any consent, help, hearkening, approbation, or co-operation to the same; but contrariwise sought to dissuade, dehort, and hinder the designment by all the means he could. He, dying for the bare concealing of that, which, by God’s, and the church’s ecclesiastical laws, he could not disclose, and giving no consent or co-operation to the treason itself, should have been accounted rather a martyr than a traitor.”—See an answer to Sir Edward Coke’s Reports, 4to. 1606.

It is remarkable that in a treatise published A.D. 1600, on auricular confession, a case is put to this effect; namely, whether if a confederate discover, in confession, that he or his companions have secretly deposited gunpowder under a particular house, and that the prince will be destroyed unless it is removed, the priest ought to reveal it. The writer replies in the negative, and fortifies his opinion by the authority of a bull of Clement VIII., against violating the seal of confession. This treatise was published at Louvain. Bishop Kennet remarks on this treatise, in his Sermon, November 5th, 1715, that it appeared “as if the writer had already looked into the cellar and had surveyed the powder, and had heard the confessions of the conspirators.”

The proceedings were at length brought to a close; and judgment was demanded against the prisoner. When the clerk of the crown asked what he had to say why judgment should not be given, Garnet replied that “he could say nothing, but referred himself to the mercy of the king and God Almighty.” Judgment was pronounced in the usual form, that the prisoner should be hanged, drawn, and quartered.

On the third of May 1606, the prisoner was executed on a scaffold erected at the west end of St. Paul’s church-yard. Overal, dean of St. Paul’s, with the dean of Winchester, exhorted him to make a plain confession to the world of the offence of which he had been convicted. Garnet desired them not to trouble him, as he came prepared to die, and was resolved what he should do. The recorder asked if he had anything to say to the people before his death, reminding him that it was not the time to dissemble, and that his treasons were manifest to the world. Garnet evidently had no wish to address the crowd; and without refusing the permission, he alleged that his voice was weak, his strength exhausted, and that the people would be unable to hear him, except in the immediate vicinity of the scaffold. To those who stood near, however, he said that the intention was wicked, and the fact would have been cruel, and that he entirely abhorred it. He was reminded that he had confessed his own participation in the plot. It was also stated, that he had acknowledged, under his own hand, that Greenway had asked him who should be protector? and that he had replied that the matter was to be deferred until the blow was actually struck. He confessed that he had erred in not revealing all that he knew of the plot; but he refused to make any further declaration on the scaffold.

He kneeled down at the foot of the ladder; but so distracted was he during his prayer, that he constantly paused and looked about him, as if in expectation of a pardon. He now expressed his sorrow in dissembling with the lords, but justified himself by saying, that he was not aware that they were in possession of such proofs against him. Then exhorting all Romanists to abstain from treasonable practices, he was launched into eternity.

Garnet was viewed as a martyr by his church after his death. Yet he had confessed himself guilty. When asked by some of the lords on his examination, if he approved that the church of Rome should one day declare him a martyr, he cried, Martyrem me, O qualem Martyrem. The church of Rome could not declare him a martyr however, unless they could allege that a miracle had been wrought at his death, or subsequent to it. A miracle therefore was feigned, in order to pave the way into the martyrology. This circumstance I will now relate.

While the body was quartered by the executioner, some drops of blood fell upon the straw with which the scaffold was strewed. A man of the name of Wilkinson, who was present, was anxious to preserve some relic of the deceased, and therefore carried home with him some of the straws sprinkled with Garnet’s blood. These relics were committed to the care of a woman, who preserved them under a glass case. Wilkinson had come over from St. Omer’s on purpose to be present at the execution. It was reported, that the straws which had been carried away by Wilkinson leaped up from the scaffold, or from the basket in which the dissevered head was deposited, upon his person. Some weeks after, on examining the straws, the parties pretended, that they discovered a likeness of Garnet on one of the husks which contained the grain. Wilkinson and several other persons asserted that they perceived a likeness. The matter was soon noised abroad, and the Romanists proclaimed that a miracle had been wrought. It was thought necessary to institute an examination into the matter; and accordingly several witnesses gave their evidence before the archbishop of Canterbury. Some persons had reported, that the head on the ear of corn was surrounded with glory, or with streaming rays; but Griffith, the husband of the woman who had preserved the straw, declared, before the archbishop, that he discovered nothing of the sort, and that the face was no more like Garnet’s than that of any other man who had a beard. Another witness deposed, that he believed that a good artisan could have drawn a better likeness.

The matter, however, was not permitted to be forgotten; and at Rome a print of the straw was published and publicly exhibited. Some months afterwards Garnet was declared to be a martyr by the pope; in which light he is still regarded by Romanists. The miracle was undoubtedly intended to afford the pope an excuse for his beatification, which is the lowest degree of celestial dignity. “This he did,” says Fuller, “to qualify the infamy of Garnet’s death, and that the perfume of this new title might outscent the stench of his treason.”

The Romanists of that day made the most of this miracle. In a work published soon after, entitled, The True Christian Catholic, it is boldly asserted that the sight of Garnet’s straw caused at least five hundred persons to embrace the Roman Catholic faith. The miracle was published in all the Romanist states; but in England, it was said, that the man who had been educated at Rome, and commissioned to enter into a conspiracy against his native country, deserved to be pictured in blood.

It appears from Osborne, a contemporary writer, that more than one likeness was pretended. From his statement it seems, that it was circulated, that all the husks in the ears on the straws bore similar impressions of Garnet’s features. Osborne says, that he had had some of these straws in his hand; but that he could discover no resemblance to a human face; “yet,” says he, “these no doubt are sold and pass at this day for relics, as I know they did twenty years after, and he for a holy saint[23].”

Many false reports were circulated on the Continent respecting his death. It was said that he evinced much readiness to die, whereas he manifested great fear. It was also reported that the people interposed and prevented the executioner from quartering him while he was alive, but this favour was granted by the command of the king; that the crowd nearly destroyed the hangman, whereas no violence of any sort was used; and that the people were perfectly silent when the head was held up on the scaffold, whereas that act was attended with loud acclamations. On the contrary, the people were with difficulty restrained from taking the law into their own hands, and inflicting summary punishment. The people also understood that Spain and the pope had been plotting with the traitors; and so high was their indignation, that it was necessary for the Spanish ambassador to apply to the government for a guard to protect him from the fury of the populace. These reports were intended to divert attention from his crime, and from the ignominy of his death. That Garnet was a traitor against his sovereign and his country, cannot be denied by any Romanists, without resorting to the usual arts and sophistry of the jesuits, who contrive to deny anything which it may be inconvenient to acknowledge. Yet Bellarmine has defended him on the ground that the treason was revealed in confession: “Why,” says he, “was Henry Garnet, a man incomparable for learning in all kinds and holiness of life, put to death, but because he would not reveal that which he could not with a safe conscience?” Garnet, however, as has been shown, acknowledged that he ought to have revealed it; and besides, it was proved on the trial, that he was acquainted with the treason by other means than confession. He admitted that the plot was revealed to him as they were walking, and consequently not under the seal of confession.

The recently discovered papers in the State Paper Office, confirm all the charges advanced against Garnet and the other conspirators at their trial. In these documents there is an account of Garnet’s examination. He is asked whether he took Greenwell’s discovery of the plot to be in confession or not? he answered, “Not in confession, but by way of confession.”

It has already been proved that, by the ancient laws even, it was treason to bring in a bull from Rome; yet Garnet acknowledged that he held three such documents at King James’s accession. And on his trial, he justified himself, or rather palliated his offence, by stating, that he had shown them to very few of his own party, when he understood that the king was peaceably put in possession of the throne. He committed the bulls to the flames, but not till he had ascertained that they could not be executed, and that it would be dangerous to retain them, lest they should be discovered in the event of his being taken.

I have already alluded to the mode, in which the continuator of Sir James Mackintosh’s History of England in Lardner’s Cyclopædia, writes the history of his country. Another short sentence respecting Garnet, will show how utterly regardless the writer is of truth in his statements: “His guilt or innocence is a question of dispute to this day.” He gives a reference to Lingard; but the words are not given as a quotation. Yet Garnet acknowledged his guilt, and it was clearly proved on the trial. Thus, in a history intended for popular use, the guilt of a notorious offender is questioned, and the principles of the church of Rome indirectly defended. The writer further remarks,—“that Garnet’s admissions were obtained by the most perfidious and cruel acts of the inquisition; that conviction under the circumstances of his trial, is scarcely a presumption of guilt.” This is exactly the strain in which Romanists are accustomed to speak of the plot. In short, the writer has written as a Romanist, and appears to have followed Lingard in every particular. Is such a man qualified to write a history for popular use? But to disprove all his assertions on this point, I simply quote a passage from the Trial, which will prove that no cruel means were resorted to in the case of Garnet. In addressing Garnet, the earl of Salisbury said: “You do best know that since your apprehension, even till this day, you have been as Christianly, as courteously, and as carefully used, as ever man could be, of any quality, or any profession; yea, it may truly be said, that you have been as well attended for health or otherwise, as a nurse-child. Is it true or no?” said the earl. “It is most true, my lord,” said Garnet, “I confess it.” Now, I ask, what dependence can be placed on the continuator of the history in question? Yet such men are employed in the present day to write books for popular use.

CHAPTER VIII.

It is an acknowledged principle of the church of Rome, that the decisions of general councils are binding on all. There are disputes amongst her divines respecting some of the councils, whether they were general, or not; but concerning the decisions of those councils which have never been disputed, there is no question with Romanists. Now some of the undisputed councils enforce doctrines at variance with Scripture, and destructive, not merely of the welfare, but of the very existence, of Protestant states and Protestant sovereigns, provided the papal see is sufficiently powerful to carry out her principles into action. No king was completely master in his own dominions, when the papacy was at its height.

The first council to which I refer the reader is The Third Council of Lateran, convened by Pope Alexander III., A.D. 1179. Its efforts were directed especially against the Albigenses and Waldenses, who were guilty of no crime, except the unpardonable one of opposing the errors of the church of Rome. Twenty-seven canons were framed by this council; all of them on matters of trivial importance with the exception of the last, which is directed against the poor exiles who were bold enough to prefer their own salvation to a blind submission to the church. The Twenty-seventh canon imposes a curse on all those who maintained or favoured the Waldensian opinions. In the event of dying in their alleged errors, they were not even to receive Christian burial[24].

The fourth council of Lateran was held A.D. 1215. One of its canons, the Third, is even more horrible than the preceding. All heretics are excommunicated, and delivered over to the secular arm for punishment; while temporal princes are enjoined to extirpate heresy by all means in their power[25]. This exterminating canon is still unrepealed, and may be acted on whenever the church of Rome may have the power to enforce it. It has been attempted in modern times to deny the genuineness of the Third Canon; but the attempt was unsuccessful. It has also been pronounced obsolete. It is undoubtedly inoperative, simply because the church cannot carry it into execution; but it is still the law of the Roman church.

The council of Constance, A.D. 1415, decided that faith was not to be kept with heretics to the prejudice of the church; and, therefore, John Huss was committed to the flames, in violation of the solemn promise of the emperor.

By these councils all heretics are devoted to destruction. They proclaim principles exactly similar to those on which the conspirators acted;—in other words, the conspirators acted on the principles promulgated by these councils, as those of the church of Rome. On these principles did the jesuits justify the treason, and declare the traitors innocent.

Attempts are made in modern times to prove that the canons alluded to are not binding on the church; but the hand of Providence has made the church of Rome set her seal to her own condemnation in this matter; for by the decrees of the council of Trent every papist is pledged to receive the decisions of all general councils[26]. The only question, therefore, to be decided is this, namely, whether these councils are regarded as general by the church of Rome. Respecting the third and fourth Lateran councils there never was any doubt; and the creed of Pope Pius IV., as well as the council of Trent, expressly enjoins the reception of the decrees of all general councils[27]. It is very remarkable, nay, I may say providential, that the Fourth Lateran council is especially alluded to by the council of Trent. One of the decisions of this very council is specified and renewed by the Trent decrees. The church of Rome has declared, therefore, by her last council,—a council, too, by which all her doctrines were unalterably fixed,—that the Lateran council is to be received by all her members; and, as if to prevent all cavil on the subject, and also to prevent any Romanist from saying that this council was not a general one, and consequently not binding on the church, the council of Trent has expressly designated it a general council. And still further, as if to remove all doubt on the subject, the council of Trent has particularly specified one of the Lateran decrees, by quoting the first two words. The language of the council is remarkable: “All other decrees made by Julius the Third, as also the constitution of Pope Innocent the Third, in a general council, which commences Qualiter et Quando, which this holy synod renews, shall be observed by all[28].” Two things are here to be noted. First, the council held under Innocent III. is expressly termed a general council; and this council was the Fourth Lateran. Secondly, a particular canon of the council is specified and renewed, so that no doubt can possibly exist as to the particular council to which the reference is made. It is not possible to establish any point with greater precision than this, that the charge of holding persecuting and exterminating doctrines is fastened upon the church of Rome, by these decrees of the council of Trent.

The reader will also perceive that the council of Trent revives and confirms all the constitutions of the apostolic see; that is, all the determinations of the canon law. It would be easy to justify persecution and death from innumerable portions of the canon law. And how can any Romanist allege that the canon law is not binding, when it is expressly confirmed by the council of Trent? It includes all the bulls and decrees of the popes. None of the persecuting decrees have been repealed; and until the church of Rome renounces them by a solemn and public act, she will be obnoxious to the charge of maintaining the duty of persecuting heretics. None of the laws respecting heresy have ever been relaxed; no sovereign was ever censured for punishing heretics; no council has ever relieved the papal sovereigns from the execution of the laws to which I have alluded; nor was any one ever condemned by the head of the church for putting Protestants to death. Until, therefore, Rome repeals her exterminating decrees, she must submit to the heavy charge of maintaining the right to persecute men for their religious belief.

It is well known that the Bull in Cœna Domini is read in the hearing of the pope every Maunday Thursday. By that bull all Protestants are excommunicated and anathematized; and will any one say that the church of Rome would not execute the sentence of excommunication if she possessed the power? To assert the contrary assuredly argues either great obstinacy or egregious folly.

To the bull In Cœna Domini may be added the oath to the pope taken by every bishop on his elevation to the episcopal dignity, by which he engages to persecute and attack heretics.

Such are the principles of the Romish church as embodied in her councils and her canon law. If they are true, then the gunpowder conspirators were justified in their proceedings, nay, they were acting a meritorious part in the prosecution of that design.

Nor have the doctors and eminent supporters of that church hesitated to avow the same principles in days that are past, though in modern times, it has been attempted to deny them, or explain them away. How modern Romanists can consistently deny that such doctrines are enjoined by their church, appears to me inexplicable, except on the jesuitical principle of equivocation, which will enable them to pursue any course calculated to advance the interests of the apostolic see; and though Romanists generally repudiate such doctrines, yet it is asserted in the theology of Dens, and taught at Maynooth, and doubtless in other similar institutions, that heretics are the subjects of the church of Rome[29]. A host of writers might be alleged, who assert that it is lawful to punish heretics with death. So numerous are the passages in Romish authors on this topic, and so well known, that I abstain from any quotations. Still I will meet an objection not unfrequently alleged by Romanists, when pressed in an argument by the authority of names in high repute in their church, namely, that “the church is not bound by the views of particular individuals.” The views of these individuals, however, are those of the church, as I have already proved. But further, why are not these views censured if the church does not maintain them? The church of Rome has published an Index Prohibitorum, in which all Protestant works are included; and an Index Expurgatorius, in which many passages in the works of well known Romanists are marked for erasure as containing sentiments akin to those of the Protestant churches. As, therefore, the church of Rome has not hesitated to expunge passages from the writings of her own members, when she has deemed them at variance with her principles, why, if she views those portions of the works to which I allude, and which enforce the persecution of heretics even to death, to be erroneous, does she not adopt the same process respecting them? As she has not done so, the undoubted inference is, that these writings are not disapproved of by the church. It is not possible for any Romanist to object to this line of argument; nor can it be charged with unfairness.

Nearly allied to the punishment of heresy is the question of the pope’s deposing power. It is asserted in the canons already quoted, and which cannot be disputed; and it is also asserted by numerous writers, whose works have never been censured in an Index Expurgatorius. Bellarmine says, “It is agreed upon amongst all, that the pope may lawfully depose heretical princes and free their subjects from yielding obedience to them.” Can it be denied, therefore, that such was the doctrine of the church of Rome in the time of Bellarmine? And if such was the doctrine of that church then, it must be the doctrine of the same church now, since none of her articles of faith have been changed, none of her doctrines have been repudiated. It is true that the doctrine is not insisted on by modern Romanists; but what security have we that the claim would not be revived if the church of Rome should ever possess sufficient power to enforce it? We must therefore insist on charging these and similar doctrines on the church of Rome, until she renounces them by a solemn and public decision.

Tillotson’s observations on this question, in his sermon on the fifth of November, are so just that I shall make no apology for quoting them. “Indeed, this doctrine hath not been at all times alike frankly and openly avowed; but it is undoubtedly theirs, and hath frequently been put in execution, though they have not thought it so convenient at all times to make profession of it. It is a certain kind of engine, which is to be screwed up or let down as occasion serves: and is commonly kept like Goliah’s sword in the sanctuary behind the ephod, but yet so that the high-priest can lend it out upon an extraordinary occasion. And for practices consonant to these doctrines, I shall go no further than the horrid and bloody design of this day.”

It is singular that there is no express mention of the deposing power in the council of Trent. The pope and the fathers perceived that times were already altered, that sovereigns were not likely to submit tamely to such an assumption of authority, and that their proceedings must be managed with more craft than formerly. Still the deposing power was established by implication, in the ratification of the decrees of the Lateran council; and we know that it was exercised at a subsequent period against Queen Elizabeth. Parsons declared, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, that it was the doctrine of all learned men, and agreeable to the apostolic injunctions; and that the power of deposing kings has not only been claimed, but acted upon, may easily be proved. It was not always treated as a speculative doctrine. History shows that many wars have been waged through this very principle. In some cases the papal sentence has been carried into effect, and in others it has led to war and bloodshed, some states having always been ready to attempt to carry the sentence into effect.

The following list will show how frequently the Roman pontiffs in the days of their glory, claimed and exercised the power of deposing sovereigns.

• A.D.
• 1075. Gregory VII. deposed Henry IV. the emperor.
• 1088. Urban II. deposed Philip, king of France.
• 1154. Adrian IV. deposed William, king of Sicily.
• 1198. Innocent III. deposed the Emperor Philip, and King John of England.
• 1227. Gregory IX. deposed the Emperor Frederic II.
• 1242. Innocent IV. deposed the emperor.
• 1261. Urban IV. deposed Manphred, king of Sicily.
• 1277. Nicholas III. deposed Charles, king of Sicily.
• 1281. Martin IV. deposed Peter of Arragon.
• 1284. Boniface VIII. deprived Philip the Fair[30].
• 1305. Clement V. deposed the Emperor Henry V.
• 1316. John XXII. deprived the Emperor Lodovic.
• 1409. Alexander V. deposed the king of Naples.
• 1538. Paul III. deprived Henry VIII. of England.
• 1570. Pius V. deprived Queen Elizabeth, as did also some of his successors.

This is a sample of papal attempts against kings; and it proves that the popes have always lost sight of St. Peter’s character, though acting as his successors. Our own sovereigns have often felt the weight of the papal power. King Edgar was enjoined by Dunstan, the abbot of Glastonbury, not to wear his crown for seven years, to which he was compelled to submit. Henry II. was forced to walk barefooted three miles to visit Becket’s shrine, and there to receive fourscore lashes from the monks on his bare back. King John was compelled to resign his crown to the pope’s legate, and take it back on condition of paying a yearly sum of a thousand marks to the pope.

The pages of history are pregnant with proofs that, from the period of the Reformation, down to the time when the papacy became shorn of much of its strength, the practices of the church have exactly corresponded with the principles asserted in the canons already specified, in the canon law, and in the works of their eminent writers. I have alluded to the bulls issued against Elizabeth, and to the attempts of nations, and of individuals, to enforce them. Elizabeth escaped; but several continental sovereigns fell a sacrifice to the fury of the church of Rome. Henry III., of France, was murdered in 1589, by a Dominican friar, who was encouraged to the commission of the act by the prior of his convent. Henry was a member of the church of Rome; but he was not so zealous as the pope wished, in executing the laws against heretics. On account, therefore, of his supposed want of zeal, he was devoted to destruction by the church. The deed was lauded in sermons and in books, throughout the French territories; while the murderer, who was destroyed on the spot, was deemed a martyr in the cause of the church. At Rome, the fact was applauded by the pope in a set speech to the cardinals. The act was contrasted by his holiness, with those of Eleazar and Judith, and the palm was given to the friar. Nay, it was compared in greatness to the Incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ. I give the following extract from this most blasphemous speech:—

“Considering seriously with myself, and applying myself to these things which are now come to pass, I may use the words of the prophet Habbakuk: ‘Behold, ye among the heathen, and regard, and wonder marvellously; for I will work a work in your days, which ye will not believe, though it be told you;’ i. 5. The French king is slain by the hands of a friar. For unto this it may be compared, though the prophet spake of our Lord’s incarnation. This is a memorable and almost incredible thing, not accomplished without the particular providence of God. A friar has killed a king. That the king is dead, is credible; but that he is killed in such a manner is hardly credible: even as we assert that Christ is born of a woman; but if we add of a virgin; then, according to human reason, we cannot assent to it. This great work is to be ascribed to a particular providence.”

In this strain did the head of the Roman church laud the murder of Henry III. of France. The deed was reckoned by his holiness as glorious a work as the incarnation of the Saviour, and his resurrection from the dead. Surely, the principles and practices of the church, were in exact correspondence at that time. The principles have never been relinquished; but circumstances control the actions of the church, so that she cannot kill and slay with impunity.

Henry IV. of France also fell a sacrifice to the same principles. He had been an advocate of Protestant doctrines; but from motives of human policy he united himself with the church of Rome. Still, as he did not persecute his Protestant subjects, the sincerity of his conversion was called in question by the church. In less than one month after his public profession of the papal faith, an attempt was made on his life by an assassin, who had been encouraged by the reasonings of certain friars and jesuits. After several escapes, he was stabbed in the street, by a man who had formerly been a monk. His death was not celebrated publicly by the pope, as was that of Henry III., but the jesuits and the friars justified the act, and proved that, on the principles of the church, it was lawful to put him to death, though a Romanist, since he was not zealous against heresy, and in the cause of the papal see. King Henry had also communicated secret information to Cecil, prior to the discovery of the Gunpowder Treason, respecting the machinations of the jesuits and seminary priests. The particulars of their treason were unknown; but the very fact that the French monarch should convey intelligence to King James, was a deadly crime in the eyes of the jesuits. It was supposed at the time, and nothing has since transpired to lead to a different conclusion, that the part he acted, in communicating information to the English court, hastened his tragical end. I have remarked, that the pope did not publicly applaud the act of the assassin; but it is a fact, that his memory was in consequence held in great veneration at Rome, for a considerable period after the event. Henry was supposed to be lukewarm in the cause, and therefore it was determined to remove him out of the way. The assassins of both these monarchs acknowledged, that they were prompted to commit the murders, by the instigation of two jesuits, and the reading of the works of a third.

The massacre of St. Bartholomew is too well known to need the recital of its horrid particulars. I allude to it merely to show how the principles and practices of the church of Rome correspond, whenever she has the power to act. The deed was applauded at Rome, by the head of the church. The crime was consecrated by the pope, who went in grand procession to church, to return thanks to God for so great a blessing as the destruction of the heretics.

It appears that the tidings of the massacre reached Rome on the 6th of September, 1572. The consistory of cardinals was immediately assembled, when the letter from the papal legate, containing the particulars of the massacre, was read. It was immediately determined to repair to the church of St. Mark, where their solemn thanks were offered up to God for this great blessing. Two days after, the pope and cardinals went in procession to the church of Minerva, when high mass was celebrated. The pope also granted a jubilee to all Christendom, and one reason assigned was, that they should thank God for the slaughter of the enemies of the church, lately executed in France. Two days later, the cardinal of Lorraine headed another great procession of cardinals, clergy, and ambassadors, to the chapel of St. Lewis, where he himself celebrated mass. In the name of the king of France, the cardinal thanked the pope and the cardinals, for the aid they had afforded his majesty by their counsels and prayers, of which he had experienced the happy effects. On his own part, and on the part of the church, the pope sent a legate to thank the king for his zeal in the extirpation of the heretics, and to beseech him to persevere in the great and holy work. The legate, in passing through France, gave a plenary absolution to all who had been actors in the massacre. On the evening of the day on which the news arrived at Rome, the guns were fired from the castle of St. Angelo; and the same rejoicings were practised as were common on receiving the intelligence of an important victory. The pope looked upon the massacre, as one of the greatest felicities which could have happened at the beginning of his papacy.

In addition to these public rejoicings on the part of the pope and his cardinals at Rome, other means were adopted to indicate the sense of the church on the massacre. Medals were struck to commemorate the event. On the one side was a representation of the slaughter, an angel cutting down the heretics, and on the other, the head of the pope, Gregory XIII. On these medals, was this inscription, “Ugonottorum Strages, 1572.” The slaughter was also deemed worthy of being commemorated on tapestry, which was placed in the pope’s chapel. In the paintings which were executed, the slaughter of the Huguenots was depicted, “Colignii et Sociorum cædes;” and in another part, “Rex Colignii cædam probat.”

Let it be remembered that the principles of the church of Rome are unchanged, and, as the Romanists themselves aver, unchangeable. The circumstances of Europe are widely different from what they were in the sixteenth century; and Romanists themselves are under the restraint of wholesome laws and public opinion; but were the popes of modern days to be supported by sovereigns like Charles IX. of France, or were they possessed of the same power as was once enjoyed by their predecessors, is it reasonable to suppose, that the principles which are still retained, would not be carried out into practice; or that the same scenes, which then disgraced the civilized world, would not again be enacted in every country, in which the jesuits and other active emissaries of the papacy could obtain a footing?

Is it not clear from the preceding facts, that the murderers of Henry III. and IV. and the actors in the massacre of St. Bartholomew considered that they were acting a meritorious part? They were taught that the pope could depose kings and grant their kingdoms to others; and they knew that the pope had often exercised that power. The Gunpowder conspirators were men of the same class and influenced by the same views. Knowing that all heretics are annually excommunicated, they believed that they were authorized to carry the sentence into effect; and having been taught that heretical princes might lawfully be deposed, they considered themselves at liberty to attempt their destruction. The assassins of the French monarchs and the Gunpowder traitors, being encouraged by the authority of the church, as explained by their spiritual directors, entered upon their deeds of darkness, with an assurance, that they were merely obeying the commands of their ghostly fathers.

The pope endeavoured to clear himself from the guilt of being privy to the Gunpowder Treason; yet some of the planners and contrivers of the plot were protected at Rome. Had his holiness been sincere in his professions to King James, he would have delivered up those jesuits who were implicated in the treason, and who escaped to Rome. The surrender of the conspirators would have been the strongest proof of his sincerity. But not only did he not give them up to the sovereign, whose life they had sought; he did not even call them to account for the part which they had taken in the conspiracy. I would not charge the guilt of that conspiracy on the members of the church of Rome indiscriminately, for there were many who were horror-struck at the deed, and there always have been many who did not receive all the principles maintained by the church; but I contend, that the head of the church, the pope of that day, approved of the act, or he would never have adopted the course which he then pursued; and in his guilt all the leading members of the conclave were also implicated. We can only judge of men by their actions; which, if they mean any thing, certainly involve the church of Rome of that period in the guilt of the treason. Garnet was regarded as a martyr, not as a traitor; and the absurd miracle of the Straw, was sanctioned at Rome. These facts certainly involve the then church of Rome in the treason; and as her principles are unchanged, there would be no security against the same practices, were circumstances to favour her ascendency[31].

It is also worthy of remark, that the jesuits who were privy to the design, and who escaped from the knife of the executioner, never expressed the least remorse for the part they had taken; on the contrary, they never failed to speak of the treason as a glorious and meritorious deed. When Hall the jesuit, alias Oldcorne, was reminded of the ill success of the treason as a proof that it was displeasing to God, he immediately replied, that the justice of the cause must not be determined by the event, for that the eleven tribes were commanded by God himself to fight against Benjamin, and were twice overthrown; and that Lewis of France was conquered by the Turks. By reminding some of his dispirited companions of many glorious enterprises, which had failed in the first instance, he hoped to encourage them to persevere, and to induce them to expect that God would, in the end, enable them to accomplish their purposes. Who can deny, after these facts, that the church of Rome was deeply involved in the gunpowder treason? Or who can exculpate her, even at present, from the charge of maintaining principles subversive of Christian liberty and Protestant governments? When one of the conspirators, who was received by the governor of Calais, was condoled with, on being banished his country, he replied, “It is the least part of our grief that we are banished our native country; this doth truly and heartily grieve us, that we could not bring so generous and wholesome a design to perfection.”

Sir Everard Digby was a mild and amiable man, and, with the exception of his participation in the plot, no stain rests upon his character; yet he seems to have considered that, by engaging in this treason, he was really doing God service. His letters, written during his imprisonment, and published by Bishop Barlow in 1679, illustrate the influence of the principles of the church of Rome on the mind of an otherwise excellent individual. They were written with the juice of lemon, or something of the same kind: written, too, when he had time to reflect in his solitary cell, yet it is evident that he thought he was advancing the cause of true religion in the part which he took; and, further, that he was never convinced that the deed was sinful, so completely had the jesuitical principles of the prime actors in the conspiracy warped his judgment and influenced his views. The papers were discovered in the house of Charles Cornwallis, Esq., who was the executor of Sir Kenelm Digby, the son and heir of Sir Everard. They were once in the possession of Archbishop Tillotson, as he testifies in one of his sermons.

The letters were by some secret means conveyed to his lady, and were preserved in the family as sacred relics. “Sir Everard Digby,” says Archbishop Tillotson in his sermon on the fifth of November, “whose very original papers and letters are now in my hands, after he was in prison, and knew he must suffer, calls it the best cause, and was extremely troubled to hear it censured by Catholics and priests, contrary to his expectations, for a great sin.” The letters were also, once in the possession of Bishop Burnet, as he himself informs us. From him we learn how they were discovered. “The family being ruined upon the death of Sir Kenelm’s son, when the executors were looking out for writings to make out the titles of the estates they were to sell, they were directed by an old servant to a cupboard that was very artificially hid, in which some papers lay that she had observed Sir Kenelm was oft reading. They, looking into it, found a velvet bag, within which, there were two other silk bags, (so carefully were those relics kept) and there was within these a collection of all the letters that Sir Everard writ during his imprisonment.”

A few extracts will show what his sentiments were concerning the plot.

“Now, for my intention let me tell you, that if I had thought there had been the least sin in the plot, I would not have been of it for all the world; and no other cause drew me to hazard my fortune and life, but zeal to God’s religion. For my keeping it secret, it was caused by certain belief, that those which were best able to judge of the lawfulness of it, had been acquainted with it, and given way unto it.”

“Now, let me tell you, what a grief it hath been to me, to hear that so much condemned, which I did believe would have been otherwise thought on by Catholics.”

“Oh! how full of joy should I die, if I could do any thing for the cause which I love more than my life.”

On the proceedings which were to have been adopted in the event of the success of the plot, Sir Everard remarks:

“There was also a course taken to have given present notice to all princes, and to associate them with an oath, answerable to the league in France.”

Respecting the pope’s concurrence he has the following passage:

“Before that I knew any thing of the plot, I did ask Mr. Farmer, what the meaning of the pope’s brief was: he told me that they were not (meaning priests) to undertake or procure stirs; but yet they would not hinder any, neither was it the pope’s mind they should, that should be undertaken for Catholic good. I did never utter thus much, nor would not but to you; and this answer, with Mr. Catesby’s proceedings with him and me, gave me absolute belief that the matter in general was approved, though every particular was not known.”

Then alluding to the presence of some Romanist peers at the opening of parliament, he adds:

“I do not think there would have been three worth saving that should have been lost.”

In another letter he observes:

“I could give unanswerable reasons, both for the good that this would have done for the Catholic cause, and my being from home, but I think it now needless, and for some respects unfit.”

The last letter is a long one, and is addressed to his sons; but though he exhorts them to continue in the faith of the church of Rome, yet he does not express any sorrow for his crime; nor does he caution them against being engaged in similar conspiracies. It is, therefore, clear, that he viewed the deed as laudable and meritorious, even at the close of his career.

It appears certain that many of the Romanists, both at home and abroad, were aware that some extensive conspiracy was on foot. A particular prayer was used, it is said, by numbers in England, for the success of the conspiracy; it was couched in the following terms: “Prosper, Lord, their pains, that labour in thy cause day and night; let heresy vanish like smoke; let the memory of it perish with a crack, like the ruin and fall of a broken house.” It would appear that this prayer was framed by one who was privy to the conspiracy; nor can it be doubted that it was intended to convey some intimation of the nature of the treason. I am, aware, that no Romanist would in the present day justify the deed; but the preceding facts prove, that the act was applauded and justified at the time by the whole church almost, and for a considerable period afterwards. To justify the treason now, would be to expose the parties who did so, to the execration of an indignant public. The principles of Rome, however, are exactly what they were when the bulls of the pope were sent to Garnet, and when the gunpowder treason was planned. Tillotson forcibly observes, “I would not be understood to charge every particular person, who is, or hath been in the Roman communion, with the guilt of those or the like practices; but I must charge their doctrines and principles with them. I must charge the heads of their church, and the prevalent teaching and governing part of it, who are usually the contrivers and abettors, the executioners and applauders of these cursed designs[32].”

It was decided by Pope Urban II. that it was neither treason nor murder to kill those, who were excommunicated by the church. So that any treason or murder could be justified on such principles. Nor has any change been effected in the principles of the church of Rome. “Popery,” says Burnet, “cannot change its nature, and cruelty and breach of faith to heretics, are as necessary parts of that religion, as transubstantiation and the pope’s supremacy[33].” Andrew Marvel wittily remarks of the pope’s claim, “He has, indeed, of late, been somewhat more retentive than formerly as to his faculty of disposing of kingdoms, the thing not having succeeded well with him in some instances, but he lays the same claim still, continues the same inclinations, and though velvet-headed hath the more itch to be pushing. And, however, in order to any occasion he keeps himself in breath, always by cursing one prince or other upon every Maundy Thursday[34].”