One of the first acts of King James the Second’s reign, was the publication of two papers found in the strong box of his deceased brother Charles, assigning various reasons to prove, that the church of Rome was the only true church; with a copy of another written by his first duchess, Anne Hyde, stating the grounds of her conversion to the Catholic faith.[49] These papers were announced to be published by his majesty’s command; and, thus authenticated, were industriously dispersed over the kingdom. The learned Stillingfleet stood forward as the champion of the church of England, in refutation of the arguments alleged in the papers of the royal proselytes.[50] In answer, appeared “A Defence of the Papers written by the late King, of blessed Memory, and Duchess of York, against the Answer made to them. By Command. London, 1686.” This defence, like the answer of Stillingfleet, was divided into three parts, applying to the three papers; and it seems that these were drawn up by different hands.
Dryden informs us, that he was concerned in the last, which seems to exclude the idea of his having any share in the first and second parts of the Defence;[51] which, indeed, are written in a style more approaching to polemic controversy than that assumed by Dryden. Stillingfleet returned to the conflict, and published a “Vindication of his Answer;” in which he is severely personal upon Dryden, “the brisk defender,” as he calls him, of the duchess’s paper, and the “new convert” to the church of Rome. Dryden, personally assaulted, made a personal retort, both directly upon Stillingfleet, and upon Burnet, his coadjutor in the controversy; and to this we probably owe the character of the Buzzard in “The Hind and Panther,” as well as the reflections upon the moderate clergy, or Low Church divines, with which that piece abounds.[52]
In order to understand Dryden’s defence, it is necessary to prefix the duchess’s paper, and Stillingfleet’s answer to it.
It is so reasonable to expect, that a person always bred up in the church of England,[53] and as well instructed in the doctrine of it, as the best divines and her capacity could make her, should be liable to many censures for leaving that, and making herself a member of the Roman Catholic church, to which, I confess, I was one of the greatest enemies it ever had;[54] that I rather choose to satisfy my friends by reading this paper, than to have the trouble to answer all the questions that may be daily asked me. And first, I do protest, in the presence of Almighty God, that no person, man or woman, directly or indirectly, ever said any thing to me since I came into England, or used the least endeavour to make me change my religion: it is a blessing I wholly owe to Almighty God, and, I hope, the hearing of a prayer I daily made him ever since I was in France and Flanders; where, seeing much of the devotion of the Catholics, (though I had very little myself,) I made it my continual request to Almighty God, that, if I were not, I might, before I died, be in the true religion. I did not in the least doubt but that I was so, and never had any scruple till November last; when, reading a book called “The History of the Reformation,” by Dr Heylin,[55] which I had heard very much commended, and have been told, if ever I had any doubt of my religion, that would settle me; instead of which, I found it the description of the horridest sacrileges in the world; and could find no reason why we left the church, but for three, the most abominable ones that were ever heard of among Christians. First, Henry VIII. renounces the Pope’s authority, because he would not give him leave to part with his wife, and marry another in her lifetime; secondly, Edward VI. was a child, and governed by his uncle, who made his estate out of church-lands; and then Queen Elizabeth, who, being no lawful heiress to the crown, could have no way to keep it but by renouncing a church that could never suffer so unlawful a thing to be done by one of her children. I confess I cannot think the Holy Ghost could ever be in such counsels; and it is very strange, that if the bishops had no design but (as they say) the restoring us to the doctrine of the primitive church, they could never think upon it, till Henry VIII. made the breach upon so unlawful a pretence. These scruples being raised, I began to consider of the difference between the Catholics and us, and examined them as well as I could by Holy Scripture, which though I do not pretend to be able to understand, yet there are some things I found so easy, that I cannot but wonder I had been so long without finding them out; as—the real presence in the blessed sacrament, the infallibility of the church, confession, and praying for the dead. After this I spoke severally to two of the bishops[56] we have in England, who both told me, there were many things in the Romish church which were very much to be wished we had kept: as confession, which was no doubt commanded by God; that praying for the dead was one of the ancient things in Christianity; that, for their parts, they did it daily, though they would not own it. And afterwards, pressing one of them very much upon the other points, he told me,—that if he had been bred a Catholic, he would not change his religion; but that being of another church, (wherein he was sure were all things necessary to salvation,) he thought it very ill to give that scandal, as to leave that church wherein he received his baptism.
All these discourses did but add more to the desire I had to be a Catholic, and gave me the most terrible agonies in the world within myself: for all this, fearing to be rash in a matter of that weight, I did all I could to satisfy myself; made it my daily prayer to God, to settle me in the right; and so went on Christmas-day to receive in the king’s chapel: after which, I was more troubled than ever, and could never be at quiet till I had told my design to a Catholic, who brought a priest to me; and that was the first I ever did converse with, upon my word. The more I spoke to him, the more I was confirmed in my design; and as it is impossible for me to doubt the words of our blessed Saviour, who says,—the holy sacrament is his body and blood; so cannot believe, that he, who is the Author of all truth, and has promised to be “with his church to the end of the world,” would permit them to give that holy mystery to the laity but in one kind, if it were not lawful so to do.
I am not able, or if I were, would I enter into disputes with any body; I only, in short, say this for the changing of my religion, which I take God to witness I would never have done, if I had thought it possible to save my soul otherwise. I think I need not say, it is not any interest in this world leads me to it. It will be plain enough to every body, that I must lose all the friends and credit I have here by it; and have very well weighed which I could best part with,—my share in this world, or the next: I thank God, I found no difficulty in the choice.
My only prayer is, “That the poor Catholics of this nation may not suffer for my being of their religion; that God would but give me patience to bear them, and then send me any afflictions in this world, so I may enjoy a blessed eternity hereafter.”
St James’s, Aug. 20, 1670.
The third paper is said to be written by a great lady, for the satisfaction of her friends, as to the reasons of her leaving the communion of the church of England, and making herself a member of the Roman Catholic church. If she had written nothing concerning it, none could have been a competent judge of those reasons or motives she had for it, but herself; but since she was pleased to write this paper, to satisfy her friends, and it is thought fit to be published for general satisfaction, all readers have a right to judge of the strength of them; and those of the church of England, an obligation to vindicate the honour of it, so far as it may be thought to suffer by them.
I am sensible how nice and tender a thing it is, to meddle in a matter wherein the memory of so great a lady is so nearly concerned, and wherein such circumstances are mentioned which cannot fully be cleared, the parties themselves having been many years dead; but I shall endeavour to keep within due bounds, and consider this paper with respect to the main design of it, and take notice of other particulars, so far as they are subservient to it.
The way of her satisfaction must needs appear very extraordinary; for, towards the conclusion, she confesses she was not able, nor would she enter into disputes with any body. Now, where the difference between the two churches lies wholly in matters of dispute, how any one could be truly satisfied as to the grounds of leaving one church and going to the other, without entering into matter of dispute with any body, is hard to understand. If persons be resolved beforehand what to do, and therefore will hear nothing said against it, there is no such way as to declare they will enter into no dispute about it. But what satisfaction is to be had in this manner of proceeding? How could one, bred up in the church of England, and so well instructed in the doctrines of it, ever satisfy herself in forsaking the communion of it, without enquiring into, and comparing the doctrines and practices of both churches? It is possible for persons of learning, who will take the pains of examining things themselves, to do that without entering into disputes with any body; but this was not to be presumed of a person of her condition: For many things must fall in her way, which she could neither have the leisure to examine, nor the capacity to judge of, without the assistance of such who have made it their business to search into them. Had she no divines of the church of England about her, to have proposed her scruples to? None able and willing to give her their utmost assistance in a matter of such importance, before she took up a resolution of forsaking our church? This cannot be imagined, considering not only her great quality, but that just esteem they had for her, whilst she continued so zealous and devout in the communion of our church.
But we have more than this to say. One of the bishops,[58] who had nearest relation to her for many years, and who owns in print,[59] that he bred her up in the principles of the church of England, was both able and willing to have removed any doubts and scruples with respect to our church, if she would have been pleased to have communicated them to him. And however she endeavoured to conceal her scruples, he tells her in his letter[60] to her, which he since printed for his own vindication, “that he had heard much discourse concerning her wavering in religion, and that he had acquainted her highness with it, the Lent before the date of this paper;” and was so much concerned at it, that he obtained a promise from her, that if any writing were put into her hands by those of the church of Rome, that she would send it either to him, or to the then bishop of Oxford, whom he left in attendance upon her.[61] After which, he saith, “she was many days with him at Farnham; in all which time she spake not one word to him of any doubt she had about her religion.” And yet this paper bears date, August 20th, that year, wherein she declares herself changed in her religion; so that it is evident she did not make use of the ordinary means for her own satisfaction, at least as to those bishops who had known her longest.
But she saith, “that she spoke severally to two of the best bishops[62] we have in England, who both told her, there were many things in the Roman church, which it were much to be wished we had kept; as confession, which was no doubt commanded of God; that praying for the dead, was one of the ancient things in Christianity; that, for their parts, they did it daily, though they would not own it. And afterwards, pressing one[63] of them very much upon the other points, he told her, that if he had been bred a Catholic, he would not change his religion; but that being of another church, wherein he was sure were all things necessary to salvation, he thought it very ill to give that scandal, as to leave that church wherein he received his baptism. Which discourses,” she said, “did but add more to the desire she had to be a Catholic.”
This, I confess, seems to be to the purpose; if there were not some circumstances and expressions very much mistaken in the representation of it: but yet suppose the utmost to be allowed, there could be no argument from hence drawn for leaving the communion of our church, if this bishop’s authority or example did signify any thing with her. For supposing he did say, “that if he had been bred in the communion of the church of Rome, he would not change his religion;” yet he added, “that being of another church, wherein were all things necessary to salvation, he thought it very ill to give that scandal, as to leave that church wherein he had received his baptism.” Now, why should not the last words have greater force to have kept her in the communion of our church, than the former to have drawn her from it? For why should any person forsake the communion of our church, unless it appears necessary to salvation so to do; and yet this yielding bishop did affirm, “that all things necessary to salvation were certainly in our church; and that it was an ill thing to leave it.” How could this “add to her desire of leaving our church?” unless there were some other motive to draw her thither, and then such small inducements would serve to inflame such a desire. But it is evident from her own words afterwards, that these concessions of the bishop could have no influence upon her; for she declares, and calls God to witness, “that she would never have changed her religion, if she had thought it possible to save her soul otherwise.” Now what could the bishop’s words signify towards her turning, when he declares just contrary, viz. not only that it was possible for her to be saved without turning, “but that he was sure we had all things necessary to salvation; and that it was a very ill thing to leave our church?” There must therefore have been some more secret reason, which encreased her desire to be a Catholic after these discourses; unless the advantage were taken from the bishop’s calling the church of Rome the Catholic religion; “if he had been bred a Catholic, he would not have changed his religion.” But if we take these words so strictly, he must have contradicted himself; for how could he be sure we had all things necessary to salvation, if we were out of the Catholic church? Was a bishop of our church, and one of the best bishops of our church, as she said, so weak as to yield, “that he was sure all things necessary to salvation were to be had out of the communion of the Catholic church?”
But again; there is an inconsistency in his saying, “that he thought it very ill to leave our church;” which no man of common sense would have said, if he had believed the Roman church to be the Catholic, exclusive of all others that do not join in communion with it.
The utmost then that can be made of all this, is, that there was a certain bishop of this church, who held both churches to be so far parts of the Catholic church, that there was no necessity of going from one church to another. But if he asserted that, he must overthrow the necessity of the Reformation, and consequently not believe our articles and homilies, and so could not be any true member of the church of England.
But the late bishop of Winchester hath made a shorter answer to all this; for he first doubts whether there ever were any such bishops who made such answers; and afterwards he affirms, that he believes there never was, in rerum naturâ,[64] such a discourse as is pretended to have been between this great person, and two of the most learned bishops of England. But God be thanked, the cause of our church doth not depend upon the singular opinion of one or two bishops in it, wherein they apparently recede from the established doctrine of it. And I am sure those of the church of Rome take it ill from us, to be charged with the opinion of particular divines, against the known sentiments of their church. Therefore, supposing the matter of fact true, it ought not to have moved her to any inclination to leave the church of England.
But after all, she protests, in the presence of Almighty God, that no person, man or woman, directly or indirectly, ever said any thing to her since she came into England, or used the least endeavour to make her change her religion; and that it is a blessing she wholly owes to Almighty God. So that the bishops are acquitted from having any hand in it, by her own words; and, as far as we can understand her meaning, she thought herself converted by immediate divine illumination. We had thought the pretence to a private spirit had not been at this time allowed in the church of Rome; but I observe, that many things are allowed to bring persons to the church of Rome, which they will not permit in those who go from it; as the use of reason in the choice of a church; the judgment of sense; and here, that which they would severely condemn in others as a private spirit, or enthusiasm, will pass well enough if it doth but lead one to their communion: any motive or method is good enough which tends to that end; and none can be sufficient against it. But why may not others set up for the change, as to other opinions, upon the same grounds, as well as this great person does, as to the change from our church to the church of Rome? and we have no pretenders to enthusiasm among us, but do as solemnly ascribe the blessing wholly to Almighty God, and look on it as the effect of such prayers as she made to him in France and Flanders.
But I wonder a person, who owed her change so wholly to Almighty God, should need the direction of an infallible church; since the utmost they can pretend to, is no more than to have such an immediate conduct; and the least that can be meant by it is, that she had no assistance from any other persons, which may not exclude her own endeavours: but supposing them to be employed, and an account to be here given of them, yet there is no connection between any of the premises, and the conclusion she drew from them; and therefore it must be immediate impulse, or some concealed motive, which determined her choice.
The conclusion was, “that she would never have changed, if she could have saved her soul otherwise.” If this were true, she had good reason for her change; if it were not true, she had none, as it is most certain it was not. Now let us examine how she came to this conclusion, and I will suppose it to have been just in the method she sets it down in.
First, she saith, she never had any scruples till the November before; and then they began upon reading Dr Heylin’s “History of the Reformation,” which was commended to her as a book to settle her; and there she found such abominable sacrilege upon Henry the Eighth’s divorce, King Edward’s minority, and Queen Elizabeth’s succession, that she could not believe the Holy Ghost could ever be in such counsels.
This was none of the best advices given to such a person, to read Dr Heylin’s History for her satisfaction:[65] For there are two distinct parts in the history of our Reformation; the one ecclesiastical, the other political: the former was built on scripture and antiquity, and the rights of particular churches; the other on such maxims which are common to statesmen at all times, and in all churches, who labour to turn all revolutions and changes to their own advantage. And it is strange to me, that a person of so great understanding, should not distinguish these two. Whether Henry VIII. were a good man or not, whether the Duke of Somerset raised his estate out of the church-lands, doth not concern our present enquiry; which is, whether there was not sufficient cause for a reformation in the church? and if there was, whether our church had not sufficient authority to reform itself? and if so, whether the proceedings of our Reformation were not justifiable by the rules of scripture, and the ancient church? These were the proper points for her to have considered, and not the particular faults of princes, or the miscarriages of ministers of state. Were not the vices of Alexander the Sixth, and many other heads of the church of Rome, for a whole age together, by the confession of their own greatest writers, as great at least as those of Henry the Eighth? And were these not thought sufficient to keep her from the church of Rome; and yet the others were sufficient to make her think of leaving our church? But Henry the Eighth’s church was, in truth, the church of Rome under a political head, much as the church of Sicily is under the king of Spain. All the difference is, Henry the Eighth took it as his own right; the king of Spain pretends to have it from the pope, by such concessions, which the popes deny. And suppose the king of Spain’s pretence were unlawful to that jurisdiction which he challengeth in the kingdom of Sicily, were this a sufficient ground to justify the thoughts of separation from the church of Rome?
But the Duke of Somerset raised his estate out of church lands, and so did many courtiers in the reign of Queen Elizabeth.
Are there not miscarriages of the like nature in the church of Rome? What is the pope’s making great estates out of the church lands, for their nephews to be princes and dukes? a thing not unheard of in our age: And is it not so much worse to be done by the head of the church?
These, she confesses, were but scruples, but such as occasioned her examining the points in difference by the holy scripture. Now she was in the right way for satisfaction, provided she made use of the best helps and means for understanding it, and took in the assistance of her spiritual guides. But it seems, contrary to the doctrine of the church of Rome, she found some things so easy there, that she wondered she had been so long without finding them out. And what were these? No less than the real presence in the blessed sacrament, the infallibility of the church confession, and praying for the dead.
These were great discoveries to be made so easily; considering how those of the church of Rome, who have been most versed in these matters, have found it so difficult to make them out from thence.
(1.) As to the real presence, as it is in the dispute between us and the church of Rome, it implies the real and substantial change of the elements into the body and blood of Christ. But where do our Saviour’s words, in calling the sacrament his body and blood, imply any such thing? The wisest persons of the church of Rome have confessed, that the bare words of our Saviour can never prove it; but there needs the authority of the church to interpret them in that sense. How then could she so easily find out that, which their most learned men could not? But there is nothing goes so far in such discoveries as a willing mind.
(2.) As to confession, no doubt the word is often used in scripture, and therefore easily found. But the question between us is not about the usefulness, or advantage, of confession in particular cases; but the necessity of it in all cases, in order to remission of sins. And I can hardly believe any bishop of our church would ever say to her, that confession, in this sense, was ever commanded by God; for then he must be damned himself, if he did not confess every known sin to a priest. But some general expressions might be used, that confession of sin was commanded by God; “confess your sins one to another:” but here is nothing of a particular confession to a priest necessary, in order to forgiveness of sin.
(3.) As to praying for the dead, it is hard to find any place of scripture which seems to have any tendency that way, unless it be with respect to the day of judgment, and that very doubtfully. But how came this great person to think it not possible to be saved in our church, unless we prayed for the dead? How did this come to be a point of salvation? And, for the practice of it, she saith, the bishops told her they did it daily. Whether they did it or not, or in what sense they did it, we cannot now be better informed; but we are sure this could be no argument for her to leave the communion of our church, because she was told by these bishops they did it, and continued in the communion of it.
(4.) Lastly; as to the infallibility of the church; if this, as applied to the Roman church, could be any where found in scripture, we should then indeed be to blame not to submit to all the definitions of it. But where is this to be found? Yes, Christ hath promised to be with his church to the end of the world; not with his church, but with his apostles: And if it be restrained to them, then the end of the world is no more than always. But suppose it be understood of the successors of the apostles; were there none but at Rome? How comes this promise to be limited to the church of Rome; and the bishops of Antioch and Alexandria, and all the other eastern churches (where the bishops as certainly succeeded the apostles as at Rome itself) not to enjoy the equal benefit of this promise? But they who can find the infallibility of the church of Rome in scripture, need not despair of finding whatever they have a mind to there.
But from this promise she concludes, that our Saviour would not permit the church to give the laity the communion in one kind, if it were not lawful so to do. Now, in my opinion, the argument is stronger the other way: the church of Rome forbids the doing of that, which Christ enjoined; therefore it cannot be infallible, since the command of Christ is so much plainer than the promise of infallibility to the church of Rome.
But, from all these things laid together, I can see no imaginable reason of any force to conclude, that she could not think it possible to save her soul otherwise, than by embracing the communion of the church of Rome: And the public will receive this advantage by these papers, that thereby it appears, how very little is to be said by persons of the greatest capacity, as well as place, either against the church of England, or for the church of Rome.
I dare appeal to all unprejudiced readers, and especially to those who have any sense of piety, whether, upon perusal of the Paper written by her late highness the Duchess, they have not found in it somewhat which touched them to the very soul; whether they did not plainly and perfectly discern in it the spirit of meekness, devotion, and sincerity, which animates the whole discourse; and whether the reader be not satisfied, that she who writ it has opened her heart without disguise, so as not to leave a scruple, that she was not in earnest. I am sure I can say, for my own particular, that when I read it first in manuscript, I could not but consider it as a discourse extremely moving; plain, without artifice, and discovering the piety of the soul from which it flowed. Truth has a language to itself, which it is impossible for hypocrisy to imitate: dissimulation could never write so warmly, nor with so much life. What less than the spirit of primitive Christianity could have dictated her words? The loss of friends, of worldly honours and esteem, the defamation of ill tongues, and the reproach of the cross,—all these, though not without the strugglings of flesh and blood, were surmounted by her; as if the saying of our Saviour were always sounding in her ears, “What will it profit a man to gain the whole world, and lose his soul!”
I think I have amplified nothing in relation either to this pious lady, or her discourse: I am sure I need not. And now let any unbiassed and indifferent reader compare the spirit of the answerer with hers. Does there not manifestly appear in him a quite different character? Need the reader be informed, that he is disingenuous, foul-mouthed, and shuffling; and that, not being able to answer plain matter of fact, he endeavours to evade it by suppositions, circumstances, and conjectures; like a cunning barreter of law, who is to manage a single cause, the dishonesty of which he cannot otherwise support than by defaming his adversary? Her only business is, to satisfy her friends of the inward workings of her soul, in order to her conversion, and by what methods she quitted the religion in which she was educated. He, on the contrary, is not satisfied, unless he question the integrity of her proceedings, and the truth of her plain relations, even so far as to blast, what in him lies, her blessed memory, with the imputation of forgery and deceit; as if she had given a false account, not only of the passages in her soul, and the agonies of a troubled conscience, only known to God and to herself, but also of the discourses which she had with others concerning those disquiets. Everywhere the lie is to be cast upon her, either directly, in the words of the bishop of Winchester, which he quotes; or indirectly, in his own, in which his spiteful diligence is most remarkable.
In his answer to the two former papers, there seems to have been some restraint upon the virulence of his genius, though even there he has manifestly past the bounds of decency and respect; but so soon as he had got loose from disputing with crowned heads, he shews himself in his pure naturals, and is as busy in raking up the ashes of their next relations, as if they were no more of kin to the crown than the new church of England is to the old reformation of their great-grandfathers. But God forbid that I should think the whole episcopal clergy of this nation to be of his latitudinarian stamp; many of them, as learned as himself, are much more moderate; and such, I am confident, will be as far from abetting his irreverence to the royal family, as they are from the juggling designs of his faction to draw in the nonconformists to their party, by assuring them they shall not be prosecuted (as indeed, upon their principles, they cannot be by them); but, in the mean time, this is to wrest the favour out of the king’s hands, and take the bestowing it into their own, and to re-assume to themselves that headship of the English church which their ancestors gave away to king Henry VIII. And now let any loyal subject but consider, whether this new way of their proceeding does not rather tend to bring the church of England into the fanatics, than the fanatics into the church of England.
These are the arts which are common to him and his fellow-labourers; but his own peculiar talent is that of subtle calumny and sly aspersion, by which he insinuates into his readers an ill opinion of his adversaries, before he comes to argument; and takes away their good name rather by theft than open robbery. He lays a kind of accumulative dishonesty to their charge, and touches them here and there with circumstances, instead of positive proofs, till at last he leaves a bad impression of them; like a painter who makes blotches of hard colouring in several parts of the face, which he smooths afterwards into a likeness. After this manner he, or one of his brethren in iniquity, has used Monsieur de Condom,[66] by picking up stories against him in his Preface, which he props up with little circumstances, but seldom so positive, that he cannot come off when their falsity shall be detected. In the mean time, his cause goes forward with the common reader, who, prepossessed by the Preface, is made partial to his answer. The same kind of artifice, with some little variation, has been used in other of their books, besides this present libel against the duchess.
But the cloven foot of this our answerer appears from underneath the cassock, even in the first step he makes towards his answer to the present paper; “which,” he tells us, “is said to be written by a great lady.” How doubtfully he speaks, as if there were no certainty of the author! But surely it is more than barely said, for it is published by the same authority which ordered the two other papers written by his late majesty, to the press; and the original of it is still remaining in the hands of the present king. Indeed, the bishop of Winchester may seem to have given him some encouragement for this in the Preface to his Treatises, where he tell us,—that “Maimbourg, the Jesuit, recites something which,” he says, “was written by the late duchess,” and which he afterwards calls,—“the papers pretended to be written by her.” But if that bishop had lived to see what our answerer has seen, her paper printed and published by his majesty, I cannot think he would have been so incredulous as to have made that doubt. It may be allowed him to suspect a stranger of forgery; but with what face can this son of the church of England suspect the integrity of his king? In the mean time, observe what an excellent voucher he has got of this dead bishop, and what an excellent argument he has drawn from him. Because he would not believe what he did not think she said, we must not believe what we know she did say. Let our author, therefore, come out of his mists and ambiguities, or give us some better authority for his unreasonable doubts; for, at this rate, if it be already suspected, whether what she writes be matter of fact, and, indeed, whether she writ at all, it may be doubted hereafter, whether she changed, and, perhaps, whether there were ever such a woman.
After he had thus begun, that “this paper was said to be written by a great lady, for the satisfaction of her friends,” he shuffles in commodious words for an answerer, and which afford him elbow-room; for he talks of the reasons and motives which she had for her leaving the communion of the church of England, &c. and of the right which all readers have to judge of the strength of them. Now, as luck will have it, none of those motives and reasons are to be found in the paper of her highness. She expresses herself clearly to write for the satisfaction of her friends, not as to the reasons she had herself for changing, but as to the censures which she might expect from them for so doing; and her whole paper shews this was her only design: So that, against the law of all romances, he first builds the enchanted castle, and then sets up to be the doughty knight who conquers it. It seems, he found that a bare denial, which is the proper answer to matter of fact, was a dry business, and would make no sport; and therefore he would be sure to cut himself out sufficient work. But it is not every man’s talent to force a trade; for a customer may choose whether he will buy or not.
This great person changed not lightly, nor in haste; but after all the endeavours which could be used by a soul which was true to itself, and to its eternal interest. She was sensible, as I before hinted, that she should lose her friends and credit; and, what to her condition at that time was more sharply piercing, expose the Catholics of England to the danger of suffering for her sake. On these considerations, she makes a plain relation of all the passages in her change; and, expecting severe censures from the world, took care to satisfy her friends concerning it. As for the reasons of it, they were only betwixt God and her own soul, and the priest with whom she spoke at last. What a wonderful art has this gentleman, to turn a bare narrative into motives and inducements? When he is arrived to the perfection of calling down a saint from heaven, he may examine her concerning them; in the mean time, he must be content with the relation which she has left behind her here on earth; and if he will needs be mistaking her scruples for her motives, who can help it?
His design, as he tells us a little after the beginning, is, “to vindicate the honour of the church of England, so far as it may be thought to suffer by the paper of her late highness.” I might here tell him, that he has an obligation antecedent to the honour of his community, which is that to God and his own conscience. But the honour of the church of England is no farther concerned in the paper of her highness, than in relation to the persons of two or three prelates; and those he leaves at last to shift for themselves as they are able, with this melancholy farewell, that—“God be thanked, the cause of our church does not depend upon the singular opinion of one or two bishops in it, wherein they apparently recede from the established doctrine of it.”
In the next place, “he is sensible how nice and tender a thing it is to meddle in a matter wherein the memory of so great a lady is concerned.”
Here he is sensible, once for all; for, after this one civility, you hear no more of his good manners, to the end of the chapter; but the honour of the church of England so wholly takes up his thoughts, that he forgets the respect which is due to her sex, her quality, her memory, her relations, and confutes her as coarsely as the parson did Bellarmine.[67]
He goes on to inform us, how hard a task he has undertaken in answering these papers, “wherein such circumstances are mentioned as cannot fully be cleared, the parties themselves having been many years dead; yet he shall endeavour to keep within due bounds,” &c.
These due bounds either are, or ought to be, respect to the great lady, and caution in regard of circumstances, which I hope he will not put upon his readers for arguments, the parties being dead so long ago.
But let the reader here take notice, that in this very place he is clapping his cups together, and shuffling his balls from hand to hand, to lay the foundation of his juggling, and to prepare the way for all the tricks which he is to play hereafter.
For, the parties being dead long since, that is, the duchess, in the first place, not being alive to justify the several conferences which she had with the bishops; nor they, in the second, to answer, as in the sight of God, whether she had such discourse with them, the field is open for him, as he vainly imagines, by laying circumstances of time and place together, and racking her own paper till it seemingly speaks against her, to render it suspected to his good friends, the rabble, that she has falsified the whole matter.
Well, we shall see what he builds upon this foundation: let him speak for himself.
“The way of her satisfaction was very extraordinary; for, towards the conclusion, she confesses she was not able, nor would she enter into disputes with any body.”
Commend me to him for a man of quick dispatch. At the first dash, he is bringing the two ends of her paper together; for he says,—“towards the conclusion she confesses.” It was well searched of him, however, to hunt counter, and run to the end of her discourse for the beginning of his own. He will lose no advantages, I warrant him. Press that home, doctor. She modestly owns, that she was neither able nor willing to enter into disputes; therefore she had no other way to satisfy herself: when the whole drift of this pious and sincere discourse is to inform her friends of the methods by which God Almighty brought her into his church; her paper being a plain and short history of her conversion.
The answerer is of opinion, there is nothing to be done, no satisfaction to be had in matters of religion, without dispute; that is his only recipe, his nostrum for attaining a true belief. But doctors differ in this point: For another witty gentleman of his church[68] desired no other epitaph upon his tomb than this: “Here lies the author of this sentence, Disputandi pruritus, scabies ecclesiæ;” the itch of disputation is the scab or tetter of the church. Now, if the learned avail themselves so little of dispute, that it is as rare as a prodigy for one of them to convince another, what shall become of the ignorant, when they are to deal with those fencers of divinity, who can hit them in tierce and quart at pleasure, while they are ignorant how to stand upon their guard? And yet such poor people have souls to save, as precious in the sight of God as the grim logician’s. Must they be damned unless they can make a regular approach to heaven in mood and figure? Is there no entering there without a syllogism? or ergoteering it with a nego, concedo, et distinguo? The best on it is, our Saviour’s disciples were but poor fishermen, and we read but of one of his apostles who was bred up at the feet of Gamaliel. I would beseech our answerer to consider, whether he has argued upon his own principles, in affirming, that none can be satisfied as to the grounds of leaving one church and going to the other, without entering into dispute? Has he not allowed, that every man is to interpret the Scripture for himself, in reference to his own salvation? With what face then can he positively say,—“That this lady,” who had not only read the Scriptures, but found them in her judgment plainly to decide the great controversy betwixt Catholics and Protestants, “might not leave his church, and enter into that of Christ, by interpreting ‘this is my body,’ in the literal and obvious meaning?” If, from a Catholic, she had become a Protestant, by expounding those words in a figurative sense, he would have applauded her for not discerning the Lord’s body, and said, she was in the right to interpret for herself. But she, it seems, must be an exception to his general rule, and not have that privilege allowed her, which he dare not deny to any sectary of the nonconformists. The fanatics think the Scripture is clear in all matters of salvation; and if so, what need, say they, of those spiritual directors? Even the pillars of the church by law established, from their own concessions, are found to be but broken staffs; for, after all their undertaking to heal a wounded conscience, when the arrows of the Almighty are stuck into it, they leave their proselytes finally to the Scripture, as our physicians, when they have emptied the pockets of their patients without curing them, send them at last to Tunbridge waters, or the air of Montpellier.
“But if persons be resolved beforehand what to do, (says our answerer,) there is no such way as to declare—they will not enter into dispute.”
Here he would make us believe, that she swallowed a new religion without chewing it, because she disputed not. I have shewed already what is the common fate of disputation. But had she no other way of satisfying her conscience? (as he immediately infers she had not.) If he were not obstinately blind, or rather had not an intention to blind his reader, he might have observed the methods and gradations of her change, and that, though she disputed not, yet she discoursed (which is entering into matter of dispute) with some of the ablest of the English clergy, even with him particularly who was left by the bishop of Winchester to be her spiritual director; by which it plainly appears, notwithstanding all the jugglings and glosses of our answerer, that the better part even of his own prescription was put in practice by her, though without effect, as to her satisfaction. Why, then, does he ask so many idle questions? “Had she no divines of the church of England about her? none able and willing to afford her their utmost assistance?” when she takes care to inform the world that she had such divines, that she imparted her scruples, and, after all, remained unsatisfied with their answers.
“Persons of learning,” indeed, he says, “may possibly be satisfied without entering into disputes of matters which she had neither the leisure to examine, nor the capacity to judge of.”
Then, as I said before, the kingdom of heaven is chiefly, if not only, for the wise and learned of this world, though our Saviour was not of this judgement. But is not every man to be satisfied pro modulo suo, according to the measure of his own understanding? Can an ignorant person enter into the knowledge of the mysteries of our faith, when even the most learned cannot understand them? Can the answerer himself unriddle the secrets of the incarnation, fathom the undivided Trinity, or the consubstantiality of the Eternal Son, with all his readings and examinations? From whence comes it then, that he believes them, since neither the scripture is plain about them, nor the wit of man can comprehend them? As for her comparing the doctrines of both churches, no question she did it to the best of her ability; for if he will believe her in any thing, she both read the scriptures, and conferred with the most learned Protestants, before she had any discourses with a Catholic priest. But if she had not, as he rudely says, the capacity of judging in deep controversies, it is very probable she might want that of understanding the instructions of her guides; for, if I may similize in my turn, a dull fellow might ask the meaning of a problem in Euclid from the bishop of Salisbury,[69] without being ever the better for his learned solution of it. So then her capacity will break no squares, at least from the doctrine of the English church, and the Presbyterians, put them both together, as they now stand united; for, either the scriptures are clear, and then a mean capacity will serve to understand them, or, though they are never so obscure, yet the upshot of all is, that every man is to interpret for himself.
What farther quarrel he can have against the lady in this particular, I know not, unless it be upon the bishop of Winchester’s account; namely, that she refused to advise with him, and admitted the two others[70] to a conference; and what reason she had for so doing, if I were as penetrating as my author, I should undertake to demonstrate by the infallible evidence of circumstances and inferences: but since the parties are dead, and so long since, I will not give my own opinion why she refused him, and of what principles she might possibly have thought him. At present I will not trouble myself farther with that prelate of rich memory, whom I warrant you our author would not commend so much for his great abilities and willingness to resolve the lady’s doubts, if he had not some journey-work for him to do hereafter; neither will I meddle much with the long impertinent story of his letter to the duchess, and her silence at Farnham, where she would not consult him in any of her doubts. Whatever great matters are made of these by our answerer, she had a very sufficient reason for not asking his advice, as will instantly be made appear. But now our author is at another of his dodging tricks, comparing times and dates of letters, the bishop’s bearing date the 24th of January, that very year in which she changed; but that he may not puzzle himself too much in reckoning, I will unriddle the matter of fact to him, which I have from a most authentic hand. The duke and duchess were at Farnham in the beginning of September, where they continued about three days, in the year 1670. Her highness’s paper bears date the 20th of August, 1670; by which it is manifest, that it was written twelve or fourteen days before her visit to the bishop. Now where, I beseech you, is the wonder, that she spoke nothing to him concerning any points of a religion in which she was already satisfied? Would any man ask another—what’s o’clock, after he had been just looking upon a sun-dial? So that all his aggravations dwindle at length into this poor inference, that it is evident she did not make use of the ordinary means for her own satisfaction; at least (mark how he mollifies, for fear of being trapped) as to those bishops who had known her longest.
Now this is so pitiful, that it requires no answer; for it amounts to no more than that she liked not the bishop, and therefore, from the beginning, concealed her scruples from him; and she changed her religion the same year, (though before he writ to her,) because she was satisfied of another. But does it follow from hence, as he infers, that, in the mean while, she did not use the ordinary means for her satisfaction? Supposing she had liked the other two bishops as little as she did him, had she no other ordinary means but by those two, or even by any other bishops? Satisfied, to be sure, she was, or she had not changed; and if the means had been wholly extraordinary, from the inspirations of God’s holy spirit only, she had thereby received the greater favour; but not omitting to give God thanks for his supernatural assistance, she used also the ordinary means.
It appears that her first emotions were from her observing the devotions of the Catholics in France and Flanders; and this is no news to any traveller. Ask even our Protestant gentlemen at their return from Catholic countries, and they cannot but confess that the exercises of their devotion, their mortifications, their austerities, their humility, their charity, and in short, all the ways of good living, are practised there in a far greater measure than they are in England; but these are the virtues from which we are blessedly reformed by the example and precept of that lean, mortified apostle, St Martin Luther.
Her first scruples were raised in her by reading Doctor Heylin’s “History of the Reformation,” and what she found in it we shall see hereafter. It appears, that history had given her some new apprehensions; and to satisfy them, she considered of the matters in difference betwixt the Catholics and Protestants; and so considered them, as to examine them the best she could by scripture, which she found to speak clearly for the Catholics; and she, upon our author’s principles, was judge of this: after which, she spoke with two of the best bishops in England, and their doubtful or rather favourable answers, did but add more to the desire she had to be a Catholic. All these ordinary ways she took, before she could persuade herself to send for a priest, whose endeavours it pleased the Almighty so to bless, that she was reconciled to his church, and her troubled conscience was immediately at rest.
I have been forced to recapitulate these things, and to give them the reader at one view; for our answerer is so cunning at his trade, that he shews them only in parcels, and by retail, that it might not be thought she used the ordinary means. One thing I had omitted, which was, that the bishop affirms in his letter to her Highness, that she had made him a promise, in case any writing were put into her hand by those of the Roman church, she would send it either to him or the bishop of Oxford.[71]
Why does our author put down that promise thus at large? If he means any thing more by it, besides a justification of his bishop for having done his part, which signifies just nothing, he would tacitly insinuate that she broke her word, by not sending any such writing to him. If so, he is at his legerdemain again. He would have it thought she kept not her promise, but does not positively affirm it; but since it is manifest, by the order of time in her paper, that she neither sent for any priest, nor conferred with any learned Catholic, till after she had done with the two bishops, it may, and ought to be supposed, that she received no writings from any of that religion; for if she had, she would certainly have mentioned them.
If then the bishop of Winchester would insinuate, that she had such papers, which she sent not to him, according to her engagement, I may at least answer with my author, that the lady was dead long before the bishop published his letter, so that the circumstances therein mentioned cannot be so fully cleared.
But to return to our answerer. He has brought us at length to the several discourses which her Highness had with the two bishops, his Grace of Canterbury, and the bishop of Worcester; and since he has thought fit to put all that concerned this matter into one long paragraph, quoted from the Duchess, I must follow his example. These are her words:—“After this, I spoke severally to two of the best bishops we have in England, who both told me there were many things in the Roman church, which it were very much to be wished we had kept; as confession, which was no doubt commanded of God; that praying for the dead was one of the ancient things in Christianity; that for their parts, they did it daily, though they would not own it. And afterwards, pressing one of them very much upon the other points, he told me—that if he had been bred a Catholic, he would not change his religion; but that being of another church, wherein he was sure were all things necessary to salvation, he thought it very ill to give that scandal, as to leave that church wherein he had received his baptism. All these discourses did but add more to the desire I had to be a Catholic, and gave me the most terrible agonies in the world,” &c.
“This (he confesses) seems to be to the purpose;” and where he confesses the least advantage on our side, the reader may swear there is somewhat more than ordinary in the matter. But he retrenches immediately, and kicks down the pail, by adding this restriction—“if there were not some circumstances and expressions very much mistaken in the representation of it.” Yet in the next line again, as if he were ashamed of his own fearfulness, he is for making a bold sally, and putting all to the push; for, “supposing the utmost to be allowed (says he) there could be no argument from hence drawn for leaving the communion of our church;” but he restrains that too with this caution—“if the bishop’s authority and example did signify any thing with her.” Thus, from yielding at first, he comes to modify his concession, and from thence to strike out magnanimously.
But then he retreats again with another if. It is a sign he is uneasy, when he tosses and turns so often in a breath; and that he is diffident of his cause, when he shifts his plea. It is evident that the Duchess laid a great stress on these concessions: and well she might; for what a startle would it give to a doubting soul, which already had taken the alarm, to hear two bishops, whereof one was primate of all England, renouncing and condemning two of the established articles of their church? But it is well known, that those two prelates were not, nor, if they were now living, would be, the only clergymen of the church of England who are of opinion they have over-reformed themselves in casting off prayers for the dead, and consequently, the doctrine of a third place. But these are church of England men of the old stamp; betwixt whom, and the faction of this answerer, there is just as much difference as betwixt a true episcopal man and a latitudinarian; and this latter, in plain terms, is no otherwise different from a presbyterian, than by whatsoever titles and dignities he is distinguished. So that our answerer was much in the right to skip over the first half of this paragraph without answering in this place, and to gallop to the last sentence of it, which begins with Bishop Blandford’s saying,—“That if he had been bred in the communion of the Roman church, he would not change his religion:” whither, as in duty bound, I follow him.
To overbalance the weight of these concessions, our author would have us think, that the subsequent words of the bishop ought to have had greater force to have kept her in the communion of the Protestant church, than the former to have drawn her from it; for the bishop comes off with this excuse,—“That being of another church, wherein he was sure were all things necessary to salvation, he thought it very ill to give that scandal, as to leave that church wherein he received his baptism.”
First, take notice, that the Duchess says, the bishop was pressed by her very much before he made the concession—that if he had been bred a Catholic, he would not have changed; which shews, that a truth was forced out of him, which he would willingly have concealed. For, both in regard to his own credit, and the retaining of so great a person in his church, it was not his interest to have yielded—that a Catholic might be saved, at least on as easy terms as a Protestant. But he goes farther, when he confesses—that if he had been bred a Catholic, he would not have altered his religion; for therein he seems even to regret his being bred a Protestant, at least he yields, that all things necessary to salvation were in the Roman Catholic church; for otherwise, had he been educated in it, he ought, in conscience, to have changed, which he owns he would not have done. Now this is manifestly more than what he said for the church of England; for his following words are rather an excuse for his continuance in his church, than an argument to dissuade her Highness from turning Catholic:—“He thought it very ill to give that scandal to leave the church wherein he was baptized.” Now the word scandal, plainly relates to his own person, and signifies no more than that he was ashamed to change; for it was impossible for him to think he should sin against his conscience in changing, who had declared—that he would not have changed, in case he had been bred a Catholic. And the reason he gives is made of the same yielding metal, viz. that he had his baptism in the Protestant church; for that argument in itself is of no weight, since the right reverend well knew that the baptism even of heretics is good; so that, if he had been christened in the Lutheran, the Abyssine, or the Russian church, he must for that reason have continued in it. But he timorously pleads his fear of giving scandal, which is, as I said, no justification of himself, no dissuasive to her, but only a mean, interested apology for his not changing.
As for his intimating,—that all things necessary to salvation were to be had in the church of England, let any reasonable man be judge whether he could possibly have said less in defence of himself for continuing in it; for this only shewed, that he thought salvation was to be had in both churches, as even this author himself is forced to confess afterwards, in these words: “The utmost that can be made of this is, that a certain bishop of our church” [who in the mean time has proved himself an uncertain one,] “held both churches so far parts of the Catholic church, that there was no necessity of going from one church to another.”
That which he calls—the utmost we can make of it, is in truth the least which the bishop’s words will naturally bear; and I may safely put the cause upon this issue,—whether such a discourse might not reasonably add more to the desire she had to be a Catholic?
Let us hear now what he has to answer; and I will reply briefly, because I have taken away the strength of his argument already.
First, he says in effect, That the bishop’s authority and example ought to have prevailed with her on the one side, more than his concessions on the other.
I reply—Not his authority, because he spoke more for the church of Rome than against it: nor his example, for he gave her no encouragement to follow it, by saying, that if he had been bred a Catholic, he would not have changed. His example of praying daily for the dead shewed his opinion at the bottom; but his not publicly owning that he did so, has proved him little better than a black bishop, who has entered privately into the white one’s walk.[72]
Our author asks, in the second place,—Why any person should forsake the communion of the Protestant church, wherein the bishop affirmed were all things necessary to salvation? And I enquire, How she could be bound to believe him, since confession, and prayers for the dead, are wanting in it? one of which he had before acknowledged to be commanded of God; the other, to be one of the ancient things in Christianity!
Thirdly, he urges, That the bishop had told her, it was an ill thing to leave the church of England. And I reply, That the answerer has falsified his words. “The bishop only thought it very ill to give that scandal, as to leave the church wherein he was baptized.” First, he spoke of himself only, not of her. Mark that fallacy. And then he said not,—it was ill to leave the church; but—very ill to give that scandal, as to leave the church; relating again to his own particular.
Fourthly, he says, It is evident that the bishops could have no influence upon her; though she positively says those discourses, in which were those concessions, did but add more to the desire she had to be a Catholic. This is full upon the vizor[73]; but the dead are to take all things patiently. Well! How, if he can convince her of falsity from her own words? why then he will carry his argument, as well as his good manners, to the height; and how broad soever the word may be which he has slily given her, yet he will tell you, that freedom ought to be permitted him, as sustaining the honour of the church of England.
His argument is this: “She declares afterwards, that she would not have changed, if she had thought it possible otherwise to have saved her soul; but the bishop had told her, that all things necessary for salvation were in the English church; therefore the bishop contributed nothing to her change.”
So the mitre be safe in its reputation, no matter what becomes of the ducal coronet. Now I can be very well content that the bishop should have no part in the honour of her conversion; for it is plain that he desired it not; and why should he do good against his will?
I wish my author would have furnished me with an argument to have brought him wholly off; but I will bring him on his way as far as by the help of the answerer’s scarf I can fairly drag him. I say therefore, that though her Highness changed not her belief upon the concessions of the bishop, yet his concessions were an occasion of her farther scruples, in order to her change; for, she says, “they added to the desire she had to be a Catholic.”
The bishop did indeed tell her, that all things necessary to salvation were in the English church; but tell me, Sir, I beseech you, was that all he told her? By your favour, you have left out the better half of what he said; for he told her also, “that if he had been bred a Catholic, he would not have changed.” And she had reason to believe what he said to the advantage of a church of which he was no member, as being sure he would say no more than scanty truth. And he acknowledges into the bargain, that “confession was commanded of God;” and, that “praying for the dead was one of the ancient things in Christianity.” What a shameful way of arguing is this, to make a general negative conclusion from half the premises? or, in other words, to maintain, that the bishop’s concessions could have no influence upon her, because they had not the greatest influence? And you in a manner confess it before you were aware, in the close of your argument, where you say, “There must therefore have been some more secret reason, which increased her desire to be a Catholic, after these discourses.” Now some more secret reason does not hinder the bishop’s concessions from being one; nay, it argues, that they were one of the reasons, though not the most prevalent, because there was one more secret. You have now contradicted yourself so plainly, that you have wholly justified the Duchess; and the broad word, without naming it, is fairly brought back to your own door.
After this, our answerer does but piddle, and play at small game, as if her Highness might possibly take encouragement from the bishop’s calling the church of Rome the Catholic religion; but she was too much in earnest to lay hold upon a word. Neither is more advantage to be taken from his calling the church of Rome the Catholic religion, than we receive disadvantage from the playing upon the word of Roman Catholic.
Next, for want of a quarrel, he is falling upon his late dear friend the bishop: “Was he,” says our answerer, “so weak, to mean the word Catholic in the strictest sense, he must then have contradicted himself; there was an inconsistency in his words,”—and so forth.
From the inconsistency of the bishop’s words in this and other places, our answerer, perhaps, would make a secret inference, that he never said them; and obliquely draw the Duchess into the statute of coining; so that the two spiritual hectors may make a sham-duel of it, for aught we know. For it is a common trick with robbers to clash their swords together in the dark, to draw company together, and then some third person pays for it. Take it in this manner, and then the argument against her Highness will stand thus: the sayings which she relates are inconsistent, and therefore she must not be believed, though she affirms she heard them. Why, do not as many as have ears hear inconsistent things said every day? and must every body needs lie, who reports them again? That inconsistency of the words is, in truth, an argument, that these things were said; for what bids fairer for adding to the desire she had of being a Catholic, and of giving her the terrible agonies she felt? But after all, if the answerer’s quarrel be in earnest with the bishop, it is pity they should fall out for such a trifle. As weak as the bishop was, and as strong as our answerer makes his inconsistencies appear, I dare answer for him, he meant nothing less than to convert her.
You do ill therefore, to play the bully with a peaceable old gentleman, who only desired to possess his conscience and his bishopric in peace, without offence to any man, either of the Catholic church, or that of England.
But if he held, that both churches were so far parts of the Catholic, that there was no necessity of going from one church to another to be saved, if he asserted that you say, he must overthrow the necessity of your Reformation; and then down goes his belief of your homilies and articles, (thirty-nine at a tip,) and consequently he could be no true member of the church of England.
And now what can I do more for the poor bishop? for most certainly he did imply thus much in saying, that “if he had been bred a Catholic, he would not change his religion.” Therefore, Take him, Topham![74] there’s no help, but he must be turned out of the church of England, even so long after he has been dead.
In the mean time, let us a little examine this proposition. Our answerer affirms, “That he cannot be a true member of the church of England, who asserts both churches to be so far parts of the Catholic church, that there is no necessity of going from one church to another to be saved.” If this be true, then, to be a member of the church of England, one must assert,—that either both churches are not parts of the Catholic, or that they are so parts, that there is a necessity of going from one to another. Of these two, the first is not for the honour of one of the churches, and the second is direct nonsense. A necessity of change consists not with their being both parts; for parts constitute one whole, and leave not one and another, to go to or from. There is no church in France or Italy, to which a Spanish Catholic can go, but what he left in Spain; nor can he leave his own, by going to either of them. He may be under other governors in the same church; but let him go wheresoever he shall please, he cannot be of another, so long as he remains a Catholic. In short, necessity of change makes it absolutely impossible for both churches to be parts of the Catholic, and forces the church of England to maintain—either that she is a part, and the Roman Catholic none, or else that it is no matter whether she be a part or no; to which I wish they may not, with the pretence of zeal for her honour, desire to drive her, who have nothing better to say in their own behalf.
But though our answerer has laid one bishop flat, I warrant you he has another in reserve; for now the bishop of Winchester (who, as I said formerly, was not commended so much for nothing,) is brought back in triumph from his palace of Farnham, to make a short end of the dispute. At first he doubts, whether ever there were any such bishops who made such answers; and then affirms, that he believes there never was in rerum naturâ such a discourse as is pretended to have been betwixt this great person and two of the most learned bishops in England.
This is downright indeed; for our answerer, to do him justice, has often collaterally accused the Duchess for her good invention at making stories: but here is plain English upon the point. What pity is it, in the mean time, that my Lord of Winton gives not so much as one single reason, either for his doubt, or his contrary belief? So that having only his lordship’s opinion, and her highness’s affirmation before me, I might say, with at least as much good manners as that prelate, that I believe as little of his pretended letter sent to the Duchess so long after her decease, as he does of her pretended discourse with the two bishops.