A Christmas greeting

by Marie Corelli

The greater majority of persons have no force of will and no decided opinions, but only an undersense of coward fear or vexation at the possible unsuccessful or damaging result of their own ill-doings. Hence the power of the Roman Catholic dogma. It is not Christianity, it has not the delicate subtlety of Greek mythology, it is simply Pagan Rome engrafted on the conversion and repentance of the Jew, Peter, who, in the time of trial, “knew not the Man.” Curiously enough, it is just the “Man,” the real typical Christ, the pure, strong God-in-humanity who is still “not known” in the Roman Catholic ritual. There are prayers to the “Sacred Heart” and to other physical attributes of Jesus,—just as in old Rome there were prayers to the physical attributes of the various deities, but of the perfect “Man,” as seen in Christ’s dauntless love of truth and exposure of shams, His scourging of the thieves out of the holy temple, His grand indifference to the world’s malice and hatred, and his conquest over death and the grave,—of these things we are given no clear or helpful image. Nevertheless, it is the “Man” we most need,—the “Man” who came to us to teach us how to live;—the brother, the friend, the close sympathizer,—the great Creator of all life mingling Himself with his human creation in a beautiful, tender, loving, wise, and all-pitiful Spirit, wherein is no hate, no revenge, and no intolerance! This is the Christ;—this is His Christianity. Romanism, on the contrary, allows plenty of space for those who want to hate as well as to love, and it is as helpful or as useless as any of the thousand and one dogmas built up around Christ which include bad passions as well as divine aspirations. The danger of such a creed gaining too much ground in England, the land where our forefathers fought against it and trampled it out with their own blood and tears, is not because it is a particular form of religious faith, but because it is an intolerant system of secret government. This has been proved over and over again throughout history. Its leaders have not shown themselves as gentle as pagans by any means, either now or in the past, and intolerance in any form, from any sect, is no part of the Constitution of a free country.

Hence the real cause of the objection entertained by millions of persons in the Empire to the suggested alteration of the King’s Coronation oath. Edward VII. is a Constitutional monarch,—and the words “Defender of the Faith” imply that he is equally Defender of the Constitution. He agrees, when he is crowned King of England, to uphold that Constitution,—he therefore tacitly rejects all that might tend to undermine it, all secret methods of tampering with political, governmental, or financial matters relating to the State. The wording of the Coronation Oath is and must be distinctly offensive to thousands of excellent persons who are Roman Catholics,—nevertheless, in the times when it was so worded, the offending terms were made necessary by the conduct of the Roman Catholics themselves. Those times, we are assured, are past. We have made progress in education,—we are now broad-minded enough to be fair to foes as well as to friends. We should, therefore, in common courtesy to a rival Church, consent to have this irritating formula altered. Perhaps we should,—but is it too much to ask our Roman Catholic brethren that they also, should, if they wish for tolerance, exhibit it on their own side? When our good and beloved Queen Victoria died, was it not quite as offensive on the part of Pope Leo to publicly state that he “could not be represented at the funeral of a Protestant Queen”—as it may be for our King to publicly repudiate the service of the Mass? Nothing could have been more calculated to gratuitously wound the feelings of a great People than that most unnecessary announcement made from an historical religious centre like the Vatican at a time of universal grief for the death of a great Monarch. If the Pope’s act was according to the rule of his Church, the King’s oath will be taken according to the rule of the British Constitution. No one could accuse the Pope of any particularly “Christian” feeling in declining to be represented at the last obsequies of the best Queen that ever reigned—no one can or will accuse King Edward of “religious intolerance” if he takes the oath as it is set down for him. Both acts are matters of policy. When we have the foremost peer of England, the Duke of Norfolk, forgetting himself so far as to drag his religious creed into the political arena and express the hope on behalf of all English Catholics that the Pope may soon regain temporal power (which means, to put it quite plainly, that the British Constitution should be disintegrated and laid under subjection to Rome), the natural consequence of such conduct is that an enormous majority of perfectly sensible, broad-minded people doubt whether it is wise to leave an entirely loose rein on the neck of the papal Pegasus, and whether it will not be as well, after all, to allow the Coronation oath to be spoken by Edward VII. as Victoria, of ever glorious memory, spoke it? For tolerance and equity on the one side must be met by tolerance and equity on the other, if a fair understanding is to be arrived at. And when the professors of any religious Creed still persecute heroism and intellect, as personated in the grand and venerable figure of Tolstoy, or refuse reverence to the last rite of a noble Queen, whose reign was a blessing to the whole world, one may be permitted to question their fitness for the task of elevating and refining the minds and morals of those whom their teachings help to influence. And having, as a man of intellectual and keen perception, the full consciousness that such unuttered “questioning” was burning the hearts and minds of thousands, Cardinal Vaughan showed himself a master of the art of Roman Catholic diplomacy in his speech at Newcastle-on-Tyne on September 9th. Speaking of the inrush of Roman Catholic priests into England, he said:—

“A statement from a London paper has been running through the provincial Press to the effect that I have deliberately outraged public feeling by inviting to England certain French religieux, some of those confrères who have made themselves particularly obnoxious by their constant attacks upon this country. The fact is that, upon the passing of the iniquitous law against the religious congregations, I gave a general invitation to any religieux who might wish to come to my diocese until they could return to France. Among those who applied were three or four fathers, some of those confrères who do not love England. My invitation being general, I was not, and am not going to make distinctions. None will come who do not intend to obey the laws and follow my direction. And if there be any who have not been sufficiently enlightened to appreciate this country while living in France, they are the very people who had best come and make our acquaintance. This is the surest way to change their views. But while England boasts of her generous hospitality to every kind of refugee, I shall certainly offer whatever hospitality I can to the men and women who have suffered for Christ’s sake. I am too broad an Englishman to know any other policy.”

“Broad Englishman” as the Cardinal may be, he had no pity on the aged Dr. St. George Mivart, the circumstances of whose treatment are not yet forgotten.

Speaking of the King’s oath, the Cardinal said—“I entirely and frankly accept the decision of the country that the King must be a Protestant. They believe that this is in some way bound up with the welfare of the Empire. Without going this length, I am convinced that in the present condition of the English people, HAUNTED AS THEY ARE BY FEARS AND SUSPICIONS, it is expedient that the King should be of the religion of the overwhelming majority. Besides, the King being, in virtue of Royal supremacy, head of the State Church, it is impossible that he should be other than a Protestant. Catholics have no difficulty in paying most loyal allegiance to a Protestant Sovereign. In this they seem to be of more liberal and confiding temper than those who would refuse allegiance to a King unless he professed their creed. The Catholic has no difficulty, because he gives his allegiance and his life, when needed, primarily to the civil power ordained of God.”

(The Cardinal did not pause here to try and explain why God has “ordained” a Protestant sovereign instead of a Roman Catholic one. Yet no doubt he will admit that God knows best.)

“The Sovereign REPRESENTS THIS POWER, whatever be his religion. Was it not Catholic Belgium that placed the Protestant King Leopold upon the Throne, and gave to him at least as hearty a devotion as ever has been shown to his Catholic successor? Other Catholic States are ruled by Protestant Sovereigns. And who can say that the 16,000,000 of German Catholics are a whit less loyal to their German Protestant Emperor than the millions who are of the Protestant or of no religion? There are people, I believe, pursued by the conviction that we Catholics would do anything in the world to get a Catholic King upon the Throne; that the Pope would give us leave to tell lies, commit perjury, plot, scheme, and kill to any extent for such a purpose; that there is no crime we should stick at if the certainty, or even the probability of accomplishing such an end were in view. Now let me put it to our Protestant friends in this way. If the King of England were an absolute Monarch, the dictator of the laws to be enacted, and his own executive, there might be something of vital importance to our interests and to those of religion to excite in us an intense desire to have a Catholic King. Though even then the end could never, even remotely, justify the means suggested. But how do matters really stand? We have a constitutional Monarch who is subject to the laws and in practice bound to follow the advice of his Ministers. A Catholic King, under present circumstances, would be a cause of weakness, of perpetual difficulty, and of untold anxiety. We are far better off as we are. Our dangers and grievances, our hopes and our happiness, lie in the working of the Constitution, not in the favour or power of any Sovereign. It is the Parliament, the House of Commons, that we must convert, or at least strive to retain within the influence of Christianity. For the well-being of this country and the salvation of its people depend, above all other human things, upon the view that the House of Commons can be got to take of its duty—to respect and obey the law of Christ. What we want is to get the House of Commons to maintain the Christian laws of marriage as the basis of society, and to secure to parents and their children a true and proper liberty in the matter of Christian education. And in this, remember well that the House of Commons depends not upon the King, whatever his religion, but upon ourselves. The people of this country must work out their own salvation. And here let me point out to you, in passing, that the next Session of Parliament may settle for ever the position of Christianity in this country. Secondary and middle-class education will be thrown into the melting-pot. In the process of the devolution of educational authority upon county councils, Christianity will run the risk of losing rights which it seems to have almost secured under the working of the Education Department. The adoption of a single clause or principle will have far-reaching and most vital results. There will be another educational struggle. Struggles will be inevitable until the Christian cause, which is becoming more and more openly the cause of the majority, has permanently triumphed.”

Here we have four distinct “moves” on the plan of campaign.

1. “It is the Parliament, the House of Commons, that we must convert.”

This means that wherever influence can be brought to bear on the return of Roman Catholic members to the House, that influence will not be lacking.