CHAPTER V
THE COMING OF THE JESUITS
The effect on Anthony of Mr. Buxton's conversation was very considerable.He had managed to keep his temper very well during the actual interview;but he broke out alone afterwards, at first with an angry contempt. Theabsurd arrogance of the man made him furious--the arrogance that hadpuffed away England and its ambitions and its vigour--palpable evidencesof life and reality, and further of God's blessing--in favour of amiserable Latin nation which had the presumption to claim the possessionof Peter's Chair and of the person of the Vicar of Christ! Test it, saidthe young man to himself, by the ancient Fathers and Councils that Dr.Jewel quoted so learnedly, and the preposterous claim crumbled to dust.Test it, yet again, by the finger of Providence; and God Himselfproclaimed that the pretensions of the spiritual kingdom, of which theprisoner in the cell had bragged, are but a blasphemous fable. AndAnthony reminded himself of the events of the previous year.
Three great assaults had been made by the Papists to win back England tothe old Religion. Dr. William Allen, the founder of Douai College, hadalready for the last seven or eight years been pouring seminary priestsinto England, and over a hundred and twenty were at work among theircountrymen, preparing the grand attack. This was made in three quartersat once.
In Scotland it was chiefly political, and Anthony thought, with a bittercontempt, of the Count d'Aubigny, Esme Stuart, who was supposed to be anemissary of the Jesuits; how he had plotted with ecclesiastics andnobles, and professed Protestantism to further his ends; and of all thestories of his duplicity and evil-living, told round the guard-room fire.
In Ireland the attempt was little else than ludicrous. Anthony laughedfiercely to himself as he pictured the landing of the treacherous foolsat Dingle, of Sir James FitzMaurice and his lady, very wretched and giddyafter their voyage, and the barefooted friars, and Dr. Sanders, and thebanner so solemnly consecrated; and of the sands of Smerwick, when allwas over a year later, and the six hundred bodies, men and women who hadpreferred Mr. Buxton's spiritual kingdom to Elizabeth's kindly rule,stripped and laid out in rows, like dead game, for Lord Grey de Wilton toreckon them by.
But his heart sank a little as he remembered the third method of attack,and of the coming of the Jesuits. By last July all London knew that theywere here, and men's hearts were shaken with apprehension. They remindedone another of the April earthquake that had tolled the great Westminsterbell, and thrown down stones from the churches. One of the Lambethguards, a native of Blunsdon, in Wiltshire, had told Anthony himself thata pack of hell-hounds had been heard there, in full cry after a ghostlyquarry. Phantom ships had been seen from Bodmin attacking a phantomcastle that rode over the waves off the Cornish coast. An old woman ofBlasedon had given birth to a huge-headed monster with the mouth of amouse, eight legs, and a tail; and, worse than all, it was whispered inthe Somersetshire inns that three companies of black-robed men, sixty innumber, had been seen, coming and going overhead in the gloom. These twostrange emissaries, Fathers Persons and Campion--how they appealed to theimagination, lurking under a hundred disguises, now of servants, now ofgentlemen of means and position! It was known that they were still inEngland, going about doing good, their friends said who knew them;stirring up the people, their enemies said who were searching for them.Anthony had seen with his own eyes some of the papers connected withtheir presence--that containing a statement of their objects in coming,namely, that they were spiritual not political agents, seeking recruitsfor Christ and for none else; Campion's "Challenge and Brag," offering tomeet any English Divine on equal terms in a public disputation; besidesone or two of the controversial pamphlets, purporting to be printed atDouai, but really emanating from a private printing-press in England, asthe Government experts had discovered from an examination of thewater-marks of the paper employed.
Yet as the weeks went by, and his first resentment cooled, Mr. Buxton'sarguments more and more sank home, for they had touched the very pointwhere Anthony had reckoned that his own strength lay. He had never beforeheard Nationalism and Catholicism placed in such flat antithesis. Infact, he had never before really heard the statement of the Catholicposition; and his fierce contempt gradually melted into respect. Boththeories had a concrete air of reality about them; his own imaged itselfunder the symbols of England's power; the National Church appealed to himso far as it represented the spiritual side of the English people; andMr. Buxton's conception appealed to him from its very audacity. Thisgreat spiritual kingdom, striding on its way, trampling down the barriersof temperament and nationality, disregarding all earthly limitations andartificial restraints, imperiously dominating the world in spite of theworld's struggles and resentment--this, after all, as he thought over it,was--well--was a new aspect of affairs. The coming of the Jesuits, too,emphasised the appeal: here were two men, as the world itself confessed,of exceptional ability--for Campion had been a famous Oxford orator, andPersons a Fellow of Balliol--choosing, under a free-will obedience, firsta life of exile, and then one of daily peril and apprehension, the verythought of which burdened the imagination with horror; hunted likevermin, sleeping and faring hard, their very names detested by themajority of their countrymen, with the shadow of the gallows moving withthem, and the reek of the hangman's cauldron continually in theirnostrils--and for what? For Mr. Buxton's spiritual kingdom! Well, Anthonythought to himself as the weeks went by and his new thoughts sank deeper,if it is all a superstitious dream, at least it is a noble one!
What, too, was the answer, he asked himself, that England gave to FatherCampion's challenge, and the defence that the Government was preparingagainst the spiritual weapons of the Jesuits? New prisons at Framinghamand Battersea; new penalties enacted by Parliament; and, above all, theunanswerable argument of the rack, and the gallows finally to close thediscussion. And what of the army that was being set in array against thepriests, and that was even now beginning to scour the country roundBerkshire, Oxfordshire, and London? Anthony had to confess to himselfthat they were queer allies for the servants of Christ; for traitors,liars, and informers were among the most trusted Government agents.
In short, as the spring drew on, Anthony was not wholly happy. Again andagain in his own room he studied a little manuscript translation ofFather Campion's "Ten Reasons," that had been taken from a popishprisoner, and that a friend had given him; and as he read its exultantrhetoric, he wondered whether the writer was indeed as insincere andtreacherous as Mr. Scot declared. There seemed in the paper a recklessoutspokenness, calculated rather to irritate than deceive.
"I turn to the Sacraments," he read, "none, none, not two, not one, Oholy Christ, have they left. Their very bread is poison. Their baptism,though it be true, yet in their judgment is nothing. It is not the savingwater! It is not the channel of Grace! It brings not Christ's merits tous! It is but a sign of salvation!" And again the writer cried toElizabeth to return to the ancient Religion, and to be in truth what shewas in name, the Defender of the Faith.
"'Kings shall be thy nursing fathers,' thus Isaiah sang, 'and Queens thynursing mothers.' Listen, Elizabeth, most Mighty Queen! To thee the greatProphet sings! He teaches thee thy part. Join then thyself to theseprinces!... O Elizabeth, a day, a day shall come that shall show theeclearly which have loved thee the better, the Society of Jesus or Luther'sbrood!"
What arrogance, thought Anthony to himself, and what assurance too!
Meanwhile in the outer world things were not reassuring to the friends ofthe Government: it was true that half a dozen priests had been capturedand examined by torture, and that Sir George Peckham himself, who wasknown to have harboured Campion, had been committed to the Marshalsea;but yet the Jesuits' influence was steadily on the increase. More andmore severe penalties had been lately enacted; it was now declared to behigh treason to reconcile or be reconciled to the Church of Rome;overwhelming losses in fortune as well as liberty were threatened againstall who said or heard Mass or refused to attend the servic
es of theEstablishment; but, as was discovered from papers that fell from time totime into the hands of the Government agents, the only answer of thepriests was to inveigh more strenuously against even occasionalconformity, declaring it to be the mortal sin of schism, if not ofapostasy, to put in an appearance under any circumstances, except thoseof actual physical compulsion, at the worship in the parish churches.Worse than all, too, was the fact that this severe gospel began toprevail; recusancy was reported to be on the increase in all parts of thecountry; and many of the old aristocracy began to return to the faith oftheir fathers: Lords Arundel, Oxford, Vaux, Henry Howard, and Sir FrancisSouthwell were all beginning to fall under the suspicion of the shrewdestGovernment spies.
The excitement at Lambeth ran higher day by day as the summer drew on;the net was being gradually contracted in the home counties; spies werereported to be everywhere, in inns, in the servants' quarters ofgentlemen's houses, lounging at cross roads and on village greens.Campion's name was in every mouth. Now they were on his footsteps, it wassaid; now he was taken; now he was gone back to France; now he was inLondon; now in Lancashire; and each rumour in turn corrected itspredecessor.
Anthony shared to the full in the excitement; the figure of the quarry,after which so many hawks were abroad, appealed to his imagination. Hedreamed of him at night, once as a crafty-looking man with narrow eyesand stooping shoulders, that skulked and ran from shadow to shadow acrossa moonlit country; once as a ruddy-faced middle-aged gentleman ridingdown a crowded street; and several times as a kind of double of Mr.Stewart, whom he had never forgotten, since he had watched him in thelittle room of Maxwell Hall, gallant and alert among his enemies.
At last one day in July, as it drew on towards evening, and as Anthonywas looking over the stable-accounts in his little office beyond thePresence Chamber, a buzz of talk and footsteps broke out in the courtbelow; and a moment later the Archbishop's body-servant ran in to saythat his Grace wished to see Mr. Norris at once in the gallery thatopened out of the guard-room.
"And I think it is about the Jesuits, sir," added the man, evidentlyexcited.
Anthony ran down at once and found his master pacing up and down, with acourier waiting near the steps at the lower end that led to Chichele'stower. The Archbishop stopped by a window, emblazoned with CardinalPole's emblem, and beckoned to him.
"See here, Master Norris," he said, "I have received news that Campion isat last taken: it may well be false, as so often before; but take horse,if you please, and ride into the city and find the truth for me. I willnot send a groom; they believe the maddest tales. You are at liberty?" headded courteously.
"Yes, your Grace, I will ride immediately."
As he rode down the river-bank towards London Bridge ten minutes later,he could not help feeling some dismay as well as excitement at the newshe was to verify. And yet what other end was possible? But what a doomfor the brilliant Oxford orator, even though he had counted the cost!
Streams of excited people were pouring across the bridge into the city;Campion's name was on every tongue; and Anthony, as he passed under thehigh gate, noticed a man point up at the grim spiked heads above it, andlaugh to his companion. There seemed little doubt, from the unanimity ofthose whom he questioned, that the rumour was true; and some even saidthat the Jesuit was actually passing down Cheapside on his way to theTower. When at last Anthony came to the thoroughfare the crowd was asdense as for a royal progress. He checked his horse at the door of aninn-yard, and asked an ostler that stood there what it was all about.
"It is Campion, the Jesuit, sir," said the man. "He has been taken atLyford, and is passing here presently."
The man had hardly finished speaking when a yell came from the end of thestreet, and groans and hoots ran down the crowd. Anthony turned in hissaddle, and saw a great stir and movement, and then horses' and men'sheads moving slowly down over the seething surface of the crowd, as ifswimming in a rough sea. He could make little out, as the company cametowards him, but the faces of the officers and pursuivants who rode inthe front rank, four or five abreast; then followed the faces of three orfour others, also riding between guards, and Anthony looked eagerly atthem; but they were simple faces enough, a little pale and quiet; one waslike a farmer's, ruddy and bearded;--surely Campion could not be amongthose! Then more and more, riding two and two, with a couple of armedguards with each pair; some looked like country-men or servants, somelike gentlemen, and one or two might be priests; but the crowd seemed topay them no attention beyond a glance or two. Ah! what was this comingbehind?
There was a space behind the last row of guards, and then came a separatetroop riding all together, of half a dozen men at least, and one in thecentre, with something white in his hat. The ferment round this group wastremendous; men were leaping up and yelling, like hounds round a cartedstag; clubs shot up menacingly, and a storm of ceaseless execration ragedoutside the compact square of guards who sat alert and ready to beat offan attack. Once a horse kicked fiercely as a man sprang to hishind-quarters, and there was a scream of pain and a burst of laughing.
Anthony sat trembling with excitement as the first group had passed, andthis second began to come opposite the entrance where he sat. This thenwas the man!
The rider in the centre sat his horse somewhat stiffly, and Anthony sawthat his elbows were bound behind his back, and his hands in front; thereins were drawn over his horse's head and a pursuivant held them oneither side. The man was dressed as a layman, in a plumed hat and a buffjerkin, such as soldiers or plain country-gentlemen might use; and in thehat was a great paper with an inscription. Anthony spelt it out.
"Campion, the Seditious Jesuit."
Then he looked at the man's face.
It was a comely refined face, a little pale but perfectly serene: hispointed dark brown beard and moustache were carefully trimmed; and hislarge passionate eyes looked cheerfully about him. Anthony stared at him,wholly fascinated; for above the romance that hung about the huntedpriest and the glamour of the dreaded Society which he represented, therewas a chivalrous fearless look in his face that drew the heart of theyoung man almost irresistibly. At least he did not look like the skulkingknave at whom all the world was sneering, and of whom Anthony had dreamtso vividly a few nights before.
The storm of execration from the faces below, and the faces crowding atthe windows, seemed to affect him not at all; and he looked from side toside as if they were cheering him rather than crying against him. Oncehis eyes met Anthony's and rested on them for a moment; and a strangethrill ran through him and he shivered sharply.
* * * *
And yet he felt, too, a distinct and irresistible movement of attractiontowards this felon who was riding towards his agony and passion; and hewas conscious at the same time of that curious touch of wonder that hehad felt years before towards the man whipped at the cart's tail, as towhether the solitary criminal were not in the right, and the clamorousaccusers in the wrong. Campion in a moment had passed on and turned hishead.
In that moment, too, Anthony caught a sudden clear instantaneousimpression of a group of faces in the window opposite. There were acouple of men in front, stout city personages no doubt, with crimsonfaces and open mouths cursing the traitorous Papist and the craftyvagrant fox trapped at last; but between them, looking over theirshoulders, was a woman's face in which Anthony saw the most intensestruggle of emotions. The face was quite white, the lips parted, the eyesstraining, and sorrow and compassion were in every line, as she watchedthe cheerful priest among his warders; and yet there rested on it, too, astrange light as of triumph. It was the face of one who sees victory evenat the hour of supremest failure. In an instant more the face hadwithdrawn itself into the darkness of the room.
When the crowds had surged down the street in the direction of the Tower,yelling in derision as Campion saluted the lately defaced CheapsideCross, Anthony guided his horse out through the dispersing groups,realising as he did so, with a touch of astonishm
ent at the coincidence,that he had been standing almost immediately under the window whence heand Isabel had leaned out so many years before.
* * * *
The sun was going down behind the Abbey as he rode up towards Lambeth,and the sky above and the river beneath were as molten gold. The Abbeyitself, with Westminster Hall and the Houses of Parliament below, stoodup like mystical palaces against the sunset; and it seemed to Anthony ashe rode, as if God Himself were illustrating in glorious illumination theclosing pages of that human life of which a glimpse had opened to him inCheapside. It did not appear to him as it had done in the days of hisboyish love as if heaven and earth were a stage for himself to walk andpose upon; but he felt intensely now the dominating power of thepersonality of the priest; and that he himself was no more than aspectator of this act of a tragedy of which the priest was both hero andvictim, and for which this evening glory formed so radiant a scene. Theold intellectual arguments against the cause that the priest representedfor the moment were drowned in this flood of splendour. When he arrivedat Lambeth and had reached the Archbishop's presence, he told him thenews briefly, and went to his room full of thought and perplexity.
In a few days the story of Campion's arrest was known far and wide. Ithad been made possible by the folly of one Catholic and the treachery ofanother; and when Anthony heard it, he was stirred still more by thecontrast between the Jesuit and his pursuers. The priest had returned tothe moated grange at Lyford, after having already paid as long a visitthere as was prudent, owing to the solicitations of a number of gentlemenwho had ridden after him and his companion, and who wished to hear hiseloquence. He had returned there again, said mass on the Sunday morning,and preached afterwards, from a chair set before the altar, a sermon onthe tears of the Saviour over apostate Jerusalem. But a false disciplehad been present who had come in search of one Payne; and this man, knownafterwards by the Catholics as Judas Eliot or Eliot Iscariot, hadgathered a number of constables and placed them about the manor-house;and before the sermon was over he went out quickly from the table of theLord, the house was immediately surrounded, and the alarm was raised by awatcher placed in one of the turrets after Eliot's suspicious departure.The three priests present, Campion and two others, were hurried into ahiding-hole over the stairs. The officers entered, searched, and foundnothing; and were actually retiring, when Eliot succeeded in persuadingthem to try again; they searched again till dark, and still foundnothing. Mrs. Yate encouraged them to stay the night in the house, andentertained them with ale; and then when all was quiet, insisted onhearing some parting words from her eloquent guest. He came out into theroom where she had chosen to spend the night until the officers weregone; and the rest of the Catholics, some Brigittine nuns and others, metthere through private passages and listened to him for the last time. Asthe company was dispersing one of the priests stumbled and fell, making anoise that roused the sentry outside. Again the house was searched, andagain with no success. In despair they were leaving it, when Jenkins,Eliot's companion, who was coming downstairs with a servant of the house,beat with his stick on the wall, saying that they had not searched there.It was noticed that the servant showed signs of agitation; and men werefetched to the spot; the wall was beaten in and the three priests werefound together, having mutually shriven one another, and made themselvesready for death.
Campion was taken out and sent first to the Sheriff of Berkshire, andthen on towards London on the following day.
* * * *
The summer days went by, and every day brought its fresh rumour aboutCampion. Sir Owen Hopton, Governor of the Tower, who at first hadcommitted his prisoner to Little-Ease, now began to treat him with morehonour; he talked, too, mysteriously, of secret interviews and promisesand understandings; and gradually it began to get about that Campion wasyielding to kindness; that he had seen the Queen; that he was to recantat Paul's Cross; and even that he was to have the See of Canterbury. Thislast rumour caused great indignation at Lambeth, and Anthony was morepressed than ever to get what authentic news he could of the Jesuit. Thenat the beginning of August came a burst of new tales; he had been racked,it was said, and had given up a number of names; and as the month went bymore and more details, authentic and otherwise, were published. Thosefavourably inclined to the Catholics were divided in opinion; some fearedthat he had indeed yielded to an excess of agony; others, and theseproved to be in the right when the truth came out, that he had only givenup names which were already known to the authorities; though even forthis he asked public pardon on the scaffold.
Towards the end of August the Archbishop again sent expressly for Anthonyand bade him accompany his chaplain on the following day to the Tower, tobe present at the public disputation that was to take place betweenEnglish divines and the Jesuit.
"Now he will have the chance he craved for," said Grindal. "He hathbragged that he would meet any and all in dispute, and now the Queen'sclemency hath granted it him."
On the following day in the early morning sunshine the minister andAnthony rode down together to the Tower, where they arrived a few minutesbefore eight o'clock, and were passed through up the stairs into St.John's chapel to the seats reserved for them.
It was indeed true that the authorities had determined to give Campionhis chance, but they had also determined to make it as small as possible.He was not even told that the discussion was to take place until themorning of its occasion, and he was allowed no opportunity for developinghis own theological position; the entire conduct of the debate was in thehands of his adversaries; he might only parry, seldom riposte, and neverattack.
When Anthony found himself in his seat he looked round the chapel. Almostimmediately opposite him, on a raised platform against a pillar, stoodtwo high seats occupied by Deans Nowell and Day, who were to conduct thedisputation, and who were now talking with their heads together while asecretary was arranging a great heap of books on the table before them.On either side, east and west, stretched chairs for the divines that wereto support them in debate, should they need it; and the platform on whichAnthony himself had a chair was filled with a crowd of clergy andcourtiers laughing and chatting together. A little table, also heapedwith books, with seats for the notaries, stood in the centre of the nave,and not far from it were a number of little wooden stools which theprisoners were to occupy. Plainly they were to be allowed no advisers andno books; even the physical support of table and chairs was denied tothem in spite of their weary racked bodies. The chapel, bright with themorning sunlight that streamed in through the east windows of the bareNorman sanctuary, hummed with the talk and laughter of those who had cometo see the priest-baiting and the vindication of the Protestant Religion;though, as Anthony looked round, he saw here and there an anxious or adowncast face of some unknown friend of the Papists.
He himself was far from easy in his mind. He had been studying Campion's"Ten Reasons" more earnestly than ever, and was amazed to find that thevery authorities to which Dr. Jewel deferred, namely, the Scripturesinterpreted by Fathers and Councils and illustrated by History, wereexactly Campion's authorities, too; and that the Jesuit's appeal to themwas no less confident than the Protestant's. That fact had, of course,suggested the thought that if there were no further living authority inexistence to decide between these two scholars, Christendom was in a poorposition. When doctors differed, where was the layman to turn? To his ownprivate judgment, said the Protestant. But then Campion's privatejudgment led him to submit to the Catholic claim! This then at presentweighed heavily on Anthony's mind. Was there or was there not anauthority on earth capable of declaring to him the Revelation of God? Forthe first time he was beginning to feel a logical and spiritual necessityfor an infallible external Judge in matters of faith; and that theCatholic Church was the only system that professed to supply it. Thequestion of the existence of such an authority was, with the doctrine ofjustification, one of those subjects continually in men's minds andconv
ersations, and to Anthony, unlike others, it appeared morefundamental even than its companion. All else seemed secondary.Indulgences, the Mass, Absolution, the Worship of Mary and theSaints--all these must stand or fall on God's authority made known toman. The one question for him was, Where was that authority to becertainly found?
There came the ringing tramp of footsteps; the buzz of talk ceased andthen broke out again, as the prisoners, with all eyes bent upon them,surrounded by a strong guard of pikemen, were seen advancing up thechapel from the north-west door towards the stools set ready for them.Anthony had no eyes but for Campion who limped in front, supported oneither side by a warder. He could scarcely believe at first that this wasthe same priest who had ridden so bravely down Cheapside. Now he wasbent, and walked like an old broken man; his face was deathly pale, withshadows and lines about his eyes, and his head trembled a little. Therewere one or two exclamations of pity, for all knew what had caused thechange; and Anthony heard an undertone moan of sorrow and anger from someone in a seat behind him.
The prisoners sat down; and the guards went to their places. Campion tookhis seat in front, and turned immediately from side to side, running hisdark eyes along the faces to see where were his adversaries; and oncemore Anthony met his eyes, and thrilled at it. Through the pallor andpain of his face, the same chivalrous spirit looked out and called forhomage and love, that years ago at Oxford had made young men, mockinglynicknamed after their leader, to desire his praise more passionately thananything on earth, and even to imitate his manners and dress and gait,for very loyalty and devotion. Anthony could not take his eyes off him;he watched the clear-cut profile of his face thrown fearlessly forward,waited in tense expectation to hear him speak, and paid no attention tothe whisperings of the chaplain beside him.
* * * *
Presently the debate began. It was opened by Dean Nowell from his highseat, who assured Father Campion of the disinterested motives of himselfand his reverend friends in holding this disputation. It was, after all,only what the priest had demanded; and they trusted by God's grace thatthey would do him good and help him to see the truth. There was nounfairness, said the Dean, who seemed to think that some apology wasneeded, in taking him thus unprepared, since the subject of debate wouldbe none other than Campion's own book. The Jesuit looked up, nodded hishead, and smiled.
"I thank you, Mr. Dean," he said, in his deep resonant voice, and therefell a dead hush as he spoke. "I thank you for desiring to do me good,and to take up my challenge; but I must say that I would I had understoodof your coming, that I might have made myself ready."
Campion's voice thrilled strangely through Anthony, as the glance fromhis eyes had done. It was so assured, so strong and delicate aninstrument, and so supremely at its owner's command, that it was hardlyless persuasive than his personality and his learning that madethemselves apparent during the day. And Anthony was not alone in hisimpressions of the Jesuit. Lord Arundel afterwards attributed hisconversion to Campion's share in the discussions. Again and again duringthe day a murmur of applause followed some of the priest's clean-cutspeeches and arguments, and a murmur of disapproval the fierce thrustsand taunts of his opponents; and by the end of the day's debate, somarked was the change of attitude of the crowd that had come to triumphover the Papist, and so manifest their sympathy with the prisoners, thatit was thought advisable to exclude the public from the subsequentdiscussions.
On this first day, all manner of subjects were touched upon, such as thecomparative leniency of Catholic and Protestant governments, the positionof Luther with regard to the Epistle of St. James, and other matterscomparatively unimportant, in the discussion of which a great deal oftime was wasted. Campion entreated his opponents to leave such minorquestions alone, and to come to doctrinal matters; but they preferred tokeep to details rather than to principles, and the priest had scarcelyany opportunity to state his positive position at all. The only doctrinalmatter seriously touched upon was that of Justification by Faith; andtexts were flung to and fro without any great result. "We are justifiedby faith," cried one side. "Though I have all faith and have not charity,I am nothing," cried the other. The effect on Anthony of this day'sdebate arose rather from the victorious personality of the priest thanfrom his arguments. His gaiety, too, was in strange contrast to thesolemn Puritanism of his enemies. For instance, he was on the point thatCouncils might err in matters of fact, but that the Scriptures could not.
"As for example," he said, his eyes twinkling out of his drawn face, "Iam bound under pain of damnation to believe that Toby's dog had a tail,because it is written, he wagged it."
The Deans looked sternly at him, as the audience laughed.
"Now, now," said one of them, "it becomes not to deal so triflingly withmatters of weight."
Campion dropped his eyes, demurely, as if reproved.
"Why, then," he said, "if this example like you not, take another. I mustbelieve that Saint Paul had a cloak, because he willeth Timothy to bringit with him."
Again the crowd laughed; and Anthony laughed, too, with a strange sob inhis throat at the gallant foolery, which, after all, was as much to thepoint as a deal that the Deans were saying.
But the second day's debate, held in Hopton's Hall, was on more vitalmatters; and Anthony again and again found himself leaning forwardbreathlessly, as Drs. Goode and Fulke on the one side, and Campion on theother, respectively attacked and defended the Doctrine of the VisibleChurch; for this, for Anthony, was one of the crucial points of thedispute between Catholicism and Protestantism. Anthony believed alreadythat the Church was one; and if it was visible, surely, he thought tohimself, it must be visibly one; and in that case, it is evident wherethat Church is to be found. But if it is invisible, it may be invisiblyone, and then as far as that matter is concerned, he may rest in theChurch of England. If not--and then he recoiled from the gulf thatopened.
"It must be an essential mark of the Church," said Campion, "and such aquality as is inseparable. It must be visible, as fire is hot, and watermoist."
Goode answered that when Christ was taken and the Apostles fled, then atleast the Church was invisible; and if then, why not always?
"It was a Church inchoate," answered the priest, "beginning, notperfect."
But Goode continued to insist that the true Church is known only to God,and therefore invisible.
"There are many wolves within," he said, "and many sheep without."
"I know not who is elect," retorted Campion, "but I know who is aCatholic."
"Only the elect are of the Church," said Goode.
"I say that both good and evil are of the visible Church," answered theother.
"To be elect or true members of Christ is one thing," went on Goode, "andto be in the visible Church is another."
* * * *
As the talk went on, Anthony began to see where the confusion lay. TheProtestants were anxious to prove that membership in a visible body didnot ensure salvation but then the Catholics never claimed that it did;the question was: Did or did not Christ intend there to be a visibleChurch, membership in which should be the normal though not theinfallible means of salvation?
They presently got on to the _a priori_ point as to whether a visibleChurch would seem to be a necessity.
"There is a perpetual commandment," said the priest, "in Mattheweighteen--'Tell the Church'; but that cannot be unless the Church isvisible; _ergo_, the visibility of the Church is continual."
"When there is an established Church," said Goode, "this remedy is to besought for. But this cannot be always had."
"The disease is continual," answered Campion; "_ergo_ the remedy must becontinual." Then he left the _a priori_ ground and entered theirs. "Towhom should I have gone," he cried, "before Luther's time? What prelatesshould I have made my complaint unto in those days? Where was your Churchnine hundred years ago? Whose were John Huss, Jerome of Prague, theWaldenses? Were they yours?" Then h
e turned scornfully to Fulke, "Helphim, Master Doctor."
And Fulke repeated Goode's assertion, that valuable as the remedy is, itcannot always be had.
Anthony sat back, puzzled. Both sides seemed right. Persecution mustoften hinder the full privileges of Church membership and the exercise ofdiscipline. Yet the question was, What was Christ's intention? Was itthat the Church should be visible? It seemed that even the ministersallowed that, now. And if so, why then the Catholic's claim that Christ'sintention had never been wholly frustrated, but that a visible unity wasto be found amongst themselves--surely this was easier to believe thanthe Protestant theory that the Church which had been visible for fifteencenturies was not really the Church at all; but that the true Church hadbeen invisible--in spite of Christ's intention--during all that period,and was now to be found only in small separated bodies scattered here andthere. How of the prevailing of the gates of hell, if that were allowedto be true?
* * * *
At two o'clock they reassembled for the afternoon conference; and nowthey got even closer to the heart of the matter, for the subject was tobe, whether the Church could err?
Fulke asserted that it could, and did; and made a syllogism:
"Whatsoever error is incident to every member, is incident to the whole.But it is incident to every member to err; _ergo_, to the whole."
"I deny both _major_ and _minor_," said Campion quietly. "Every man mayerr, but not the whole gathered together; for the whole hath a promise,but so hath not every particular man."
Fulke denied this stoutly, and beat on the table.
"Every member hath the spirit of Christ," he said, "which is the spiritof truth; and therefore hath the same promise that the whole hath."
"Why, then," said Campion, smiling, "there should be no heretics."
"Yes," answered Fulke, "heretics may be within the Church, but not of theChurch."
And so they found themselves back again where they started from.
Anthony sat back on the oak bench and sighed, and glanced round at theinterested faces of the theologians and the yawns of the amateurs, as thedebate rolled on over the old ground, and touched on free will, andgrace, and infant baptism; until the Lieutenant interposed:
"Master Doctors," he said, with a judicial air, "the question that wasappointed before dinner was, whether the visible Church may err"--towhich Goode retorted that the digressions were all Campion's fault.
Then the debate took the form of contradictions.
"Whatsoever congregation doth err in matters of faith," said Goode, "isnot the true Church; but the Church of Rome erreth in matters of faith;_ergo_, it is not the true Church."
"I deny your _minor_," said Campion, "the Church of Rome hath not erred."Then the same process was repeated over the Council of Trent; and thedebate whirled off once more into details and irrelevancies about imputedrighteousness, and the denial of the Cup to the laity.
Again the audience grew restless. They had not come there, most of them,to listen to theological minutiae, but to see sport; and this interminablechopping of words that resulted in nothing bored them profoundly. Amurmur of conversation began to buzz on all sides.
Campion was in despair.
"Thus shall we run into all questions," he cried hopelessly, "and then weshall have done this time twelve months."
But Fulke would not let him be; but pressed on a question about theCouncil of Nice.
"Now we shall have the matter of images," sighed Campion.
"You are _nimis acutus_," retorted Fulke, "you will leap over the stileor ever you come to it. I mean not to speak of images."
And so with a few more irrelevancies the debate ended.
The third debate in September (on the twenty-third), at which Anthony wasagain present, was on the subject of the Real Presence in the BlessedSacrament.
Fulke was in an evil temper, since it was common talk that Campion hadhad the best of the argument on the eighteenth.
"The other day," he said, "when we had some hope of your conversion, weforbare you much, and suffered you to discourse; but now that we see youare an obstinate heretic, and seek to cover the light of the truth withmultitude of words, we mean not to allow you such large discourses as wedid."
"You are very imperious to-day," answered Campion serenely, "whatsoeverthe matter is. I am the Queen's prisoner, and none of yours."
"Not a whit imperious," said Fulke angrily,--"though I will exact of youto keep the right order of disputation."
Then the argument began. It soon became plain to Anthony that it waspossible to take the Scripture in two senses, literally andmetaphorically. The sacrament either was literally Christ's body, or itwas not. Who then was to decide? Father Campion said it meant the one;Dr. Fulke the other. Could it be possible that Christ should leave Hispeople in doubt as to such a thing? Surely not, thought Anthony. Well,then, where is the arbiter? Father Campion says, The Church; Dr. Fulkesays, The Scripture. But that is a circular argument, for the question tobe decided is: What does the Scripture mean? for it may mean at least twothings, at least so it would seem. Here then he found himself face toface with the claims of the Church of Rome to be that arbiter; and hisheart began to grow sick with apprehension as he saw how that Churchsupplied exactly what was demanded by the circumstances of the case--thatis, an infallible living guide as to the meaning of God's Revelation. Thesimplicity of her claim appalled him.
He did not follow the argument closely, since it seemed to him but asecondary question now; though he heard one or two sentences. At onepoint Campion was explaining what the Church meant by substance. It wasthat which transcended the senses.
"Are you not Dr. Fulke?" he said. "And yet I see nothing but your colourand exterior form. The substance of Dr. Fulke cannot be seen."
"I will not vouchsafe to reply upon this answer," snarled Fulke, whosetemper had not been improved by the debate--"too childish for asophister!"
Then followed interminable syllogisms, of which Campion would not acceptthe premises; and no real progress was made. The Jesuit tried to explainthe doctrine that the wicked may be said not to eat the Body in theSacrament, because they receive not the virtue of It, though they receivethe Thing; but Fulke would not hear him. The distinction was new toAnthony, with his puritan training, and he sat pondering it while thedebate passed on.
The afternoon discussion, too, was to little purpose. More and moreAnthony, and others with him, began to see that the heart of the matterwas the authority of the Church; and that unless that was settled, allother debate was beside the point; and the importance of this was broughtout for him more clearly than ever on the 27th of the month, when thefourth and last debate took place, and on the subject of the sufficiencyof the Scriptures unto salvation.
Mr. Charke, who had now succeeded as disputant, began with extemporeprayer, in which as usual the priest refused to join, praying andcrossing himself apart.
Mr. Walker then opened the disputation with a pompous and insolent speechabout "one Campion," an "unnatural man to his country, degenerated froman Englishman, an apostate in religion, a fugitive from this realm,unloyal to his prince." Campion sat with his eyes cast down, until theminister had done.
Then the discussion began. The priest pointed out that Protestants werenot even decided as to what were Scriptures and what were not, sinceLuther rejected three epistles in the New Testament; therefore, heargued, the Church is necessary as a guide, first of all, to tell menwhat is Scripture. Walker evaded by saying he was not a Lutheran but aChristian; and then the talk turned on to apocryphal books. But it wasnot possible to evade long, and the Jesuit soon touched his opponent.
"To leave a door to traditions," he said, "which the Holy Ghost maydeliver to the true Church, is both manifest and seen: as in the Baptismof infants, the Holy Ghost proceeding from Father to Son, and such otherthings mentioned, which are delivered by tradition. Prove these directlyby the Scripture if you can!"
Charke answered by th
e analogy of circumcision which infants received,and by quoting Christ's words as to "sending" of the Comforter; and theywere soon deep in detailed argument; but once more Anthony saw that itwas all a question of the interpretation of Scripture; and, therefore,that it would seem that an authoritative interpreter was necessary--andwhere could such be found save in an infallible living Voice? And oncemore a question of Campion's drove the point home.
"Was all Scripture written when the Apostles first taught?" And Charkedared not answer yes.
The afternoon's debate concerned justification by faith, and this, morethan ever, seemed to Anthony a secondary matter, now that he wasrealising what the claim of a living authority meant; and he sat back,only interested in watching the priest's face, so controlled yet sotransparent in its simplicity and steadfastness, as he listened to theministers' brutal taunts and insolence, and dealt his quiet skilfulparries and ripostes to their incessant assaults. At last the Lieutenantstruck the table with his hand, and intimated that the time was past, andafter a long prayer by Mr. Walker, the prisoners were led back to theircells.
As Anthony rode back alone in the evening sunlight, he was as one whowas seeing a vision. There was indeed a vision before him, that hadbeen taking shape gradually, detail by detail, during these last months,and ousting the old one; and which now, terribly emphasised by Campion'sarguments and illuminated by the fire of his personality, towered upimperious, consistent, dominating--and across her brow her title, TheCatholic Church. Far above all the melting cloudland of theory shemoved, a stupendous fact; living, in contrast with the dead past towhich her enemies cried in vain; eloquent when other systems were dumb;authoritative when they hesitated; steady when they reeled and fell.About her throne dwelt her children, from every race and age, secure inher protection, and wise with her knowledge, when other men faltered andquestioned and doubted: and as Anthony looked up and saw her for thefirst time, he recognised her as the Mistress and Mother of his soul; andalthough the blinding clouds of argument and theory and self-distrustrushed down on him again and filled his eyes with dust, yet he knew hehad seen her face in very truth, and that the memory of that vision couldnever again wholly leave him.