FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 9: "Da chi dipendera il Pontefice nell' esercizio del suo potere Spirituale? Dai Re? Eccovi il gallicanismo parlamentare! Dalle ma.s.se dei fedeli? Eccovi il richerianismo, e febronianismo! Dai Vescovi? Eccovi il gallicanismo teologico" (_L. di Castelplanio_, p.

104).]

[Footnote 10: Take for instance, 37 Henry VIII. Chap. 17, which recites that "the clergy have no Ecclesiastical Jurisdiction, but by and under the King, who is the _only Supreme Head of the Church_ of England, to whom _all_ authority and power is _wholly_ given to hear and determine all causes ecclesiastical."]

PART II.

THE ANGLICAN THEORY OF CONTINUITY IN THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND.

OR THE AUTHORITY OF THE POPE IN ENGLAND IN PRE-REFORMATION TIMES.

As the First Part of this little treatise is devoted to a consideration of the position of the Pope and the authority which he exercises throughout the Universal Church; so the Second Part is concerned with the position occupied and the authority exercised by the same Sovereign Pontiff in our own country of England, before she was cut off from the Universal Church in the sixteenth century.

CHAPTER I.

THE CHURCH IN ENGLAND BEFORE THE REFORMATION.

One of the greatest glories of the Catholic Church is that she and she alone possesses and is able to communicate to others the whole truth revealed by Jesus Christ. The Church of England and other Churches that have gone out from her have, we are thankful to say, carried with them some fragments of Christianity, but the Catholic Church alone possesses the whole unadulterated revelation of Jesus Christ. For over a thousand years, the Church in England formed a part of the great Universal Church, the centre of which is at Rome and the circ.u.mference of which is everywhere. From the sixth to the sixteenth century the Church in England was a province of that Church, and received her power and jurisdiction from the Holy See. It was not until the sixteenth century that she apostatised, and was cut off from the stem, out of which she had sprung, as a rotten branch is lopped off from a healthy tree. It was not until then that she became a Church apart, distinct from the Church of G.o.d, no longer the _Catholic_ Church _in_ England, but henceforth the _National_ Church _of_ England and of England alone. The pre-"Reformation" Church was, as we have said, not a separate Church, but a part of the one Catholic Church, whereas the post-"Reformation" Church stands alone, unrecognised by the rest of Christendom; hence the one is absolutely distinct from the other. The grand old cathedrals and churches designed, built, and paid for by our Catholic ancestors have been forcibly taken possession of, but the Faith, the teaching, and the doctrine--in a word, the Church itself--is totally distinct. The wolf may slay and devour the sheep and may then clothe himself in its fleece, but the wolf is not the sheep, and the nature of the one remains totally different from that of the other. The proofs of all this are so numerous and so striking that one scarcely knows which to choose, nor where to begin. In the present chapter, we will content ourselves with calling attention to certain points that every one will be able to grasp. It is said that a straw will show which way the wind blows, so things even trivial in themselves will enable any unprejudiced man to see that there must be some radical difference between the Church in England four hundred years ago, and the Church of England to-day. First, let us just look round and consider the Catholic Church. It is spread all over the world. It is found in France, in Belgium, in Italy, in Spain, and in other countries, all of which recognised the Church in England before the "Reformation" as one in faith and doctrine with themselves. They felt themselves united with it in one and the same belief; they taught the same seven Sacraments; they gathered around the same Sacrifice; they acknowledged the same supremacy of the same spiritual head. Now there is no single Catholic country that recognises the Church of England as anything but heretical and schismatical.

Formerly when any Archbishop of Canterbury travelled abroad he was received as a brother by the Catholic Bishops all over the Continent.

He felt thoroughly at home in the Catholic churches, and offered up the Divine Mysteries at their altars, using the same sacred vessels, reading from the same missal, speaking the same language, and feeling himself to be a member of the same spiritual family. Can the present Archbishop of Canterbury follow their example? Would the Cardinal Archbishop of Paris, for instance, or the Archbishop of Milan receive the Anglican Archbishop of Canterbury, as a brother Bishop? Would they cause their cathedrals to be thrown open to him? No.

In vain does the Archbishop of Canterbury of to-day claim continuity with the pre-"Reformation" Archbishops. For no one would be found to admit such a claim. It may be said that this is of no great importance. It may not be in itself, but it is the straw which shows the way the wind blows; and clearly proves that the verdict of the entire world and the chief centres of Christendom is against continuity.

Let us take another "straw". Before the pseudo-Reformation there were Cardinals exercising authority in the Church in England. Some of them even became famous. There was, for instance, Cardinal Stephen Langton, who was Primate of England, and who brought together the Barons, and forced the Great Charter from King John. There, amongst the signatures to that famous doc.u.ment we find the name of a Roman Cardinal. From the time of Stephen Langton to the time of Cardinal Fisher in the sixteenth century there was a long succession of Cardinals in England, all of whom were members of the Church in England. From the time of Cardinal Robert Pullen to that of Cardinal John Fisher there were no fewer than twenty-two Roman Cardinals belonging to that Church. How is it that during those thousand years the English Church could have and actually did have Cardinals, up to the time of the so-called Reformation, but never since? How is it that such a thing has ceased to be possible? Clearly because it is no longer the same Church.

Before, England was a part of the Universal Church; and just as the Church in Italy, France, and Spain, had, and still have, their Cardinals, so England also was given its share of representation in the Sacred College. We shall realise the inference to be drawn if we consider what a Cardinal is. In the first place, he is one chosen directly by the Pope; secondly, he is one of the Pope's advisers; thirdly, when the Holy Father dies it is he, as a member of the Sacred College, who has to elect a successor; furthermore, he swears allegiance to the Sovereign Pontiff, and on bended knee, with his hands on the Holy Gospels, he solemnly declares his adhesion to the Roman Catholic Faith. No Anglican of the present day, no Protestant, no one who is not an out-and-out Roman Catholic can be, or could ever have been, a Cardinal, yet there were Cardinals here in the Church in England, and, as we have stated, a long succession of them right up to the time of the pseudo-Reformation. How can there be continuity and spiritual ident.i.ty between the Church _in_ England, which before that change could and did have Cardinals, and the Church _of_ England to-day, which can produce nothing of the kind? Cardinals or no Cardinals is not a matter of great importance in itself, but it is another "straw" which clearly shows the completely altered condition of things. Let us pa.s.s to another point. During the period between the sixth and sixteenth centuries there were many canonised saints in the Church in England. I refer to such men as St. Bede, who lived in the eighth century; to St. Odo of Canterbury; to St. Dunstan, Archbishop of Canterbury, in the tenth century; to St. Wolstan of Worcester; to St. Osmond, Bishop of Salisbury in the eleventh century; to St. Thomas a Becket, in the twelfth century; to St. Richard, Bishop of Chichester and St. Edmund, in the thirteenth century; and to many others we could mention, whose names are enrolled in the lists of the Catholic Church, and who are set up before her children as models of virtue, as the most perfect specimens of sanct.i.ty, and as worthy of our imitation--all members of the Church in England before the pseudo-Reformation.[11] How is it that the present Church of England has never canonised any saint? Those to whom I have referred represent the best and truest of the Church in England before the "Reformation".

We still show them reverence. In many cases we even recite their offices and Ma.s.ses. How, then, can they be members of the same Church as the Church of England of to-day, which we know to be a schismatical body, cut off from the unity of Christendom some four hundred years ago? There has been no saint canonised according to the rite of the Church of England, but if there had been, we would not and could not reverence them, for they would be to us outside the Church--aliens, heretics, and, from that point of view at all events, unworthy of imitation. Let us point out yet another "straw" which clearly indicates the essential difference between the Church in England before the "Reformation" and the Church of England after it. When the young King Henry VIII. first came to the throne he, like all his predecessors, both kings and queens, was a true Roman Catholic. So much so, that when a doctrine of the Church was attacked he wrote a book in its defence; in fact, the Pope was so pleased with his zeal that he determined to reward him by conferring on him the t.i.tle of "Defender of the Faith". But, in the name of common-sense! Defender of what Faith? Was it the Protestant faith? Was it the faith professed by the present Church of England? Is it likely, is it possible, that any Pope would confer such a t.i.tle on any one who was not in union with the Holy See, and who rejected Catholic doctrine? Such a thing is unthinkable. Was the faith of Henry VIII. before the break with Rome the same as that of Edward VII. who on his coronation day declared the Ma.s.s to be false, Transubstantiation to be absurd, and Catholics to be idolaters? If not, then what becomes of the continuity theory? The fact is that between the Church in England before the sixteenth century and the Church of England to-day there is no real connection, no true resemblance, and those who endeavour to prove the contrary are but falsifying history and throwing dust into the eyes of simple people, and trying to prove what is absolutely and wholly untrue.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 11: As early as 1170 Pope Alexander III. decreed that the consent of the Roman Church was necessary before public honour as a saint could be given to any person. Is it conceivable that such consent would be given by any Pope in the case of one not united to Rome in the same faith?]

CHAPTER II.

THE OATH OF OBEDIENCE.

In order to realise the absolute absurdity of the continuity theory, and to see how thoroughly Roman Catholic England was right up to the "Reformation," it is enough for us to turn back the hands of the great clock of time some few hundred years, and to visit England at any period during the long interval between the sixth and the sixteenth century.

One of the first facts that would strike any observant visitor to our sh.o.r.es in those days, would be the att.i.tude of the Church in England towards the Holy See. Every Archbishop, every metropolitan from the time of St. Augustine himself, A.D. 601, up to the sixteenth century, not merely acknowledged the authority of the Pope, but solemnly swore to show him reverence and obedience. Furthermore, even when an Archbishop had been appointed and consecrated, he could not exercise jurisdiction until he had received the sacred pallium, which came from Rome, and was received as the symbol and token of the authority conferred on him by the supreme Pastor. The pallium itself, "taken from the body of Blessed Peter," is a band of lamb's wool, and was worn by each Archbishop as the pledge of unity and of orthodoxy, as well as the fetter of loving subjection to the Supreme Pastor of the One Fold, the "apostolic yoke" of Catholic obedience.

In the early Saxon times, long before trains or steamers had been invented, we find Primate after Primate of All England undertaking the long and perilous journey over the sea, and then across the Continent of Europe, and over the precipitous and dangerous pa.s.ses of the Alps, down through the sunny and vine-clad slopes of Italy, in order to receive the pallium in person from the venerable successor of St.

Peter, in the great Basilica in Rome. But, whether they actually went for it themselves in person, or whether special messengers were sent with it from Rome to England, they always awaited its reception before they considered themselves fully empowered to exercise their metropolitan functions. By way of ill.u.s.tration, it may be interesting to consider some special case, and we will then leave the reader to judge whether we are dealing with an England that is _Catholic_ or an England that is _Protestant_; with an England united to the Holy See and to the rest of Catholic Europe, or an England independent of the Holy See, isolated, and established by Law and Parliament, as it is to-day--an England in possession of the truth, which is universal and the same everywhere, or an England clinging to error, which is local, national and circ.u.mscribed.

It does not much matter what name we select; any will answer our purpose. Let us then take Simon Langham, as good and honest an English name as ever there was. It is the year 1366, some two hundred years before the Church in England cut itself off from the rest of Christendom. The metropolitan See of Canterbury is vacant. The widowed Diocese seeks, at the hands of the Pope, Urban V., a new Archbishop. After mature inquiry and consideration the Pope selects Simon Langham. And who is he? Who is this distinguished man, now called to rule over that portion of the one Catholic Church represented by England? If we study his history we shall find that he in no way resembles the typical amiable Anglican Canon of the present day, with a wife and children, living within the Cathedral close, but that he is a simple, austere, Benedictine monk. He has been living for some time past in the famous Abbey of Westminster. He was first a simple monk, then he was chosen Prior, and finally Lord Abbot. Some years later, _i.e._, in 1362, he was appointed to the vacant See of Ely. By whom? Well, in those days the Church was not a mere department of the State, so it was not by the Crown. No: nor by the Prime Minister, as in the Anglican Church of to-day. But, as history records, by a special Papal Bull. Thus, at the time we are now considering, _viz._, 1366, he had been Bishop just four years. Now, the Primatial throne of St. Augustine, as already stated, has become vacant, and Simon Langham, the Bishop of Ely, is appointed Archbishop of Canterbury, and Lord Primate of England.

As with all the other Archbishops before the "Reformation," he cannot exercise his metropolitan powers till he has received from Rome the insignia of his office, _viz._, the sacred pallium. On this occasion the Archbishop does not go himself to Italy, to receive it from the hands of the Sovereign Pontiff, but it is brought by special messengers from Rome to England.

We may well imagine the interest these visitors from the Eternal City would excite among the population of London. Their dark complexion and bright, black eyes, and foreign appearance would, no doubt, attract considerable attention. Of course they would be made welcome and be shown the chief sights of the city. They would greatly admire, for instance, the beauty of Westminster Abbey, and would probably ask its history. Then they would be told how it originated with St. Edward the Confessor. How he had made a vow to go on a pilgrimage to the tomb of the Apostles at Rome, like a loyal Catholic, in order to pay homage to the successor of St. Peter, whom Christ appointed as head of the Church; how the pious King, finding his kingdom in danger of invasion, and his authority threatened, and not daring to absent himself, begged the Pope to release him from his vow; how the Pope at once commuted it, and bade him build a church instead, in honour of St. Peter; and so forth. Then they would very likely visit the inmates of the Abbey.

The Benedictine monks who served the Abbey would entertain them, and ask after their brethren in Italy. Some of these English monks would in all likelihood have been educated at Subiaco, where St. Benedict first lived, or at Monte Ca.s.sino, where he died, and where his body still lies. In any case, these English monks were undoubtedly true children of St. Benedict, and followed his rule, and were animated by his spirit, and rejoiced to acknowledge him as their founder and spiritual father. There was nothing of the modern Anglican, and nothing insular about them!

In the meantime the great day arrives. It is the 4th of November in the year 1366. The bells of the Abbey are ringing a merry peal. The Faithful are flocking in to witness the Archbishop receive the Pallium, the symbol of jurisdiction, and the sign that all spiritual authority emanates from St. Peter, who alone has received the keys, and from his rightful successors in the Petrine See of Rome.

It is a grand ceremony, and we have even to-day, in the old Latin records, a full account of what took place. Anything more truly Roman Catholic, or less like the Anglican Church of the "Reformation," it would be difficult to imagine.

It was directed by the rubrics, that the Cathedral clergy should be called together, at an early hour, and that Prime and the rest of the Divine Office should be recited, up to the High Ma.s.s. Then the cross-bearers and torch-bearers and thurifers, and the attendants carrying the Book of the Gospels and other articles of the sanctuary, are drawn up in processional order in the chancel. Two and two, followed by priests and other ecclesiastical dignitaries, they walk down the nave. Then comes the Archbishop himself, robed in full pontificals, though, out of respect to the Pallium, with bare feet.

The rubric on this point is explicit, _viz._, "nudis pedibus". Behind the Archbishop come the Prior and the monks wearing copes. In this order they all pa.s.s through the streets of London to the gate of the city to meet the Papal Commissioner who bears the Pallium. He is dressed in an alb and choir-cope, and solemnly carries the Pallium enclosed in a costly vessel either of gold or of silver. As soon as the procession meets the Pallium-bearer it turns round, and those who issued forth retrace their steps towards the Abbey. Last but one walks the Archbishop, and last of all follows the bearer of the Pallium. On reaching the church the Pallium is reverently laid on the high altar.

The Archbishop then remains, for some minutes, prostrate in prayer before the high altar. Then the choir having finished their singing, the Archbishop rises, and turning to the a.s.sembled mult.i.tude, gives them his blessing. He then approaches the altar, and with his hands upon the holy Gospels, takes the following solemn oath.

Now, gentle reader, we are anxious that you should pay particular attention to the words of this oath. They may be found in Wilkins'

_Concilia_ (vol. ii., p. 199), in the original Latin, just as they were uttered by Simon Langham, and other Archbishops, in old Catholic days. We give them translated into English. And, as you read them, ask yourselves whether the Archbishops who uttered them were genuine Roman Catholics, or merely Parliamentary Bishops of the local and national variety, belonging to the present English Establishment.

We take our stand in spirit in Westminster Abbey, on the 4th day of November, 1366, and, in common with the rest of the vast congregation which fills every available s.p.a.ce, we listen to the newly elected Archbishop, as in clear, ringing words, with his hands on the Gospels, he swears as follow:--

"I, Simon Langham, Archbishop of Canterbury, will be from this hour henceforth faithful and obedient to St. Peter, and to the Holy Apostolic Roman Church, and to my Lord the Pope, Urban V., and to his canonical successors."

Surely, some of us would open our eyes pretty wide if we saw the present Anglican Archbishop of Canterbury with his hands on the Gospels taking that oath. Yet we are a.s.sured, _ad nauseam_, that the Church to which Simon Cardinal Langham belonged is the same as the present Church of England, which repudiates the authority of the Pope altogether. The same? Well, yes; if light and darkness, and sweetness and bitterness, are the same. But let us read the whole of the oath: "I, Simon Langham, will be from this hour henceforth faithful and obedient to St. Peter, and to the Holy Apostolic Roman Church, and to my Lord the Pope, Urban V., and to his canonical successors. Neither in counsel or consent or in deed, will I take part in aught by which they might suffer loss of life, or limb, or liberty. Their counsel which they may confide to me, whether by their envoys or their letter, I will, to their injury, wittingly disclose to no man. The Roman Papacy and the royalty of St. Peter, I will be their helper to defend and to maintain, saving my order, against all men. When summoned to a Synod I will come, unless hindered by a canonical impediment. The Legate of the Apostolic See I will treat honourably in his coming and going, and will help him in his needs. Every third year I will visit the threshold of the Apostles, either personally or by proxy, unless I am dispensed by Apostolic licence. The possessions which pertain to the support of my Archbishopric, I will not sell, nor give away, nor pledge, nor re-enfeoff, nor alienate in any way, without first consulting the Roman Pontiff. So help me, G.o.d, and these G.o.d's Holy Gospels."

If you, who read these lines, had stood by, and listened to this oath, would it leave any doubt in your minds as to the religion of the Archbishop? Could you possibly mistake it for the religion of the present Church of England?

Was the present Anglican Archbishop of Canterbury chosen and appointed by the Pope? Did he take a vow of celibacy? Does the present Archbishop acknowledge publicly and officially that he receives his jurisdiction from the Pope? Did he receive the Pallium from Rome, sent by special Papal messengers? Did he stand up and swear on the Gospels that he would be faithful and obedient to his Lord the Pope? Did he promise to visit Rome every three years, to give his Lord the Pope an account of his diocese? Nothing of the kind. Yet we are gravely told that there is no break between the Church of St. Anselm, and Simon Langham, and of Cardinal Fisher, on the one hand, and the Church of the present Archbishop of Canterbury on the other!

Why are these good men so exceedingly anxious to prove that black is white? Why will they a.s.sert and re-a.s.sert, in every mood and tense, that things most opposite are identical, and things most unlike are exactly the same?

We will deal with that question in the next chapter. All we now affirm is that the reason is abundantly clear and evident, though little creditable to these perverters of history.

CHAPTER III.

THE AWKWARD DILEMMA.

In the whole catalogue of sin, there is hardly one so detestable in itself, or so withering in its effects, as the sin of heresy.

Consequently, though we feel a great love as well as a great interest in the Church in England during the thousand years in which she formed a part of the Church of G.o.d, we can have little love for the present Church of England, as by law established, cut off, as she is, from the only true Church, which Christ, the Incarnate G.o.d, was pleased in His infinite wisdom to build upon St. Peter, and upon those who should succeed him in his sublime office, and who have received the Divine Commission to rule over the entire flock, to hold the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and to confirm their brethren to the end of time.

Besides, a careful study of the origin and genesis of the present Anglican Establishment is scarcely calculated to predispose any one particularly in its favour. It is not Catholics only who might be thought biased upon such a point, but others also who feel this. In fact, it is precisely impartial men, unaffected by any interest either way, who most fully realise from what a very shady beginning the new state of things arose. As Sir Osborne Morgan puts it, "Every student of English history knows that, if a very bad king had not fallen in love with a very pretty woman, and desired to get divorced from his plain and elderly wife, and if he had not compelled a servile Parliament to carry out his wishes, there would, in all human probability, never have been an Established Church at all."