Fabiola; Or, The Church of the Catacombs

by Nicholas Patrick Wiseman

PREFACE
TO THE ILLUSTRATED EDITION.

Although the sun of divine faith had long before begun to warm with its vivifying and sanctifying rays the virgin soil of this western land of ours, yet it had hardly risen above the horizon when dark and threatening clouds of persecution seemed about to obscure its light, promising, instead of a bright and cheerful day for the Church, a night of disappointment and suffering. The good already accomplished by the early missionaries seemed imperilled by the coming storm, and the work at that time in progress was meeting with fierce and even cruel opposition. Then it was that men asked themselves, was it necessary that the founding of Christ’s Church in America should undergo a process similar to that which it had undergone in pagan Rome. Although the Catholics of America thirty years ago had little cause to fear the torch or the axe of the executioner, though they could hardly hope for the blood-stained crown of martyrdom in the public arena, though they heard not the cry, “to the wild beasts with the Christians,” yet they dwelt amid much religious privation, underwent keen mental persecution, and were made the victims of rampant bigotry, furious political partisanship, and humiliating social ostracism. Like the heroic characters so graphically portrayed by the Cardinal’s graceful pen in the history of Fabiola, the Catholics in America professed a faith imperfectly known in the land, or known only to be despised and hated by the great majority of the American people, just as that self-same faith had been misrepresented, detested and persecuted in the early ages, by the misguided citizens of pagan Rome.

In such times, Catholics sorely needed the help of bright examples of courage, zeal and perseverance, to beckon them on in the steady pursuit of their arduous and sometimes perilous task of preserving, practising, and declaring their faith. Such examples they found in Cardinal Wiseman’s beautiful work, models of fidelity to faith, heroes and heroines who in their patient lives and cruel deaths gave testimony unto Christ Jesus, producing such fruits of virtue, and showing forth so beautifully and so powerfully the effects of the true faith, that that faith itself finally triumphed over all opposition; and verifying the words of the Apostle, became a victory that conquered the world: “Haec est victoria, quæ vincit mundum, fides nostra.” “This is the victory which overcometh the world, our faith.”

By the study of these models, as presented in the story of Fabiola, the struggling Catholics of this country learned how to possess their souls in patience. While admiring the heroic fortitude of those martyrs, though not presuming always to imitate their extraordinary ways, our predecessors in the faith felt themselves encouraged to follow in their footsteps, bearing patiently all religious privations and adhering to their faith amid hatred and contempt, and giving bold testimony of it before unbelieving men.

Inspired by the example of these primitive Christians, the priests and people alike of the past generation were strengthened in the conviction that in their poor despised Church, at that time remarkable for its poverty and obscurity, there dwelt the eternal truth brought down to earth from heaven by the Son of the living God, the truth which He had confirmed by miracles and sealed with His precious life’s blood; the truth in whose defence millions of the holiest and greatest men sacrificed their very lives; the truth in whose possession the noblest and most enlightened among the children of Adam had found peace in life and consolation in death. For this truth, they were willing to die.

How opportune, at that time, was the appearance in our midst of a work from a master-hand, presenting to view in a most vivid and realistic light the trials and triumphs of those heroes in the Church who raised the cross of Christ, bedewed with martyr-blood, upon the dome of the Roman Capitol! Like the cheering flambeau borne in the hands of the acolyte of the Catacombs, the story of Fabiola served to brighten and cheer the arduous path of many a despised if not persecuted Catholic, amid the religious wilderness then to a great extent prevailing over our broad land.

But as the primitive Church emerged from her hiding-places, so, thank God, has that same Church in our own country bounded forth from obscurity and contempt into the broad light of day, where she stands confessed in all her truth and beauty, at once the envy and admiration of her recent opponents.

While to-day, protestantism is an enemy that no Catholic need fear, a new and more formidable foe confronts us in the shape of materialism. The contest between truth and error is as fierce as ever, though the tactics are changed. We should arm ourselves for the battle against materialism as our fathers did against protestantism. We can win no laurels in a war against protestantism, for it has been subdued by those ahead of us in the ranks. Such laurels have been gathered by earlier and worthier hands than ours. Nor are there places for us by the side of the martyrs Pancratius, Sebastian, and other heroes of primitive Christianity. Yet a great trust has descended to our hands, and sacred obligations have devolved on the present generation of Catholics. There remains to us a great duty of defence and preservation, and there lies open before us a grand and glorious pursuit to which the religious needs of the times loudly call us. We live in an age of sordid materialism, when it is of vital importance to turn the thoughts of all Christians to the really heroic ages of the Church, and to the lives of men and women who have done honor to principle, glorified God and benefited their fellow-beings by their holy and self-sacrificing lives.