He tried to extend the benefit or plea of invincible ignorance as widely as possible. He laboured and reasoned, with a warmth unusual to him, to remove the notion some Catholics have, that the majority of Protestants know they are wrong, but from some unworthy motive will not give up their errors. His proofs of the position he chose to take here were not certainly the most convincing, for his stock argument was to quote himself. It did of course occur to him that its point could be retorted by the fact of his becoming a Catholic for his bona fides; but he took up the argument then by saying we were therefore to hope for the conversion of England. His idea of England's apostasy was mainly this: that the body of the people had been swindled out of their religion by the machinations of a few crafty, unprincipled statesmen, at the time of the Reformation. A system of misrepresentation and false colouring of Catholic doctrines and practices was invented and handed down from generation to generation, which impregnated the minds of children with the notion that Catholicity and absurdity were one and the same thing. From this point of view did he look at the millions who groped in the darkness of error, blaspheming the doctrines of Jesus Christ, and imagining they were thereby doing Him a service. He took then the side of pity, which always inclines one to the lessening of faults.
He lamented nothing more than the loss of faith in England, and he thought that a harsh, iron way of dealing with Englishmen would close their hearts against grace altogether. This led him to use the mildest terms he could find,—nay, the most respectful,—in speaking of Protestants. He would never call them "heretics," nor their ministers "parsons." "Separated from the Church," "Church of England people," "Dissenters," "Clergymen," were his usual terms, and he would often also speak of them as "our separated brethren."
This twofold aspect of his bearing towards Protestants certainly proceeded alike from charity and zeal. It was a common remark with him, that we ought not to suppose people bad and evil-disposed unless we are certain of it, neither should we hurt their feelings by opprobrious epithets. And if we intend to do them any good we should be the more cautious still as to our thoughts and words. He used to sigh when he had done speaking of the state of religion in England, but he would immediately start up as if from a reverie and say, "Shall we not do something to save our poor countrymen?" So far was he from sympathizing with the mildest form of error, that even in scholastic questions he would always take the safer side. In his love for the heretic, therefore, no one could ever find the least sympathy with the heresy; or if he called the error a polite name, it was only to gain admission to the heart it was corroding, in order to be allowed to pluck it out. If we take into account his great love for souls, it will seem wonderful that he did not burst out at times into indignation against what destroyed so many; but we must remember that such a thing as fierce outbursts of any kind were most unsuitable to his spirit. His love would make him try to eliminate from those who had died external to the Church, all the formal heresy he possibly could; and he felt special delight in the fact that the Catholic Church forbids us to judge the damnation of any particular individual as certain. But then let us think for a moment of what he did to uproot heresy. He spoke, he wrote, he preached, he toiled for thirty years incessantly almost for this single object. Any one that weighs this well will be far from judging that he had the least sympathy with error. His kindliness, therefore, for Protestants, and his belief that the vast majority of them were in good faith, so far from making him sit down at ease and enjoy his own faith, and not bestir himself unless Protestants thrust themselves upon him to claim admission into the fold, produced directly the opposite effect. Their not being so bad as was generally imagined, buoyed his hope in their speedy recovery; their being so near the truth, as he charitably supposed, made him strain every nerve to compel them to come across the barrier that separated them from him.
One of the means he adopted for reuniting Protestants to the Catholic Church laid him open to another serious charge, which was, if possible, more groundless than the last. In January, 1850, he began to go about and call upon Protestants of every description—ministers of church and state nobles and plebeians. His object was to get them all to pray for unity. To state plainly his way of action, it was this:—He intended to ask all Protestants "to pray for unity in the truth, wherever God knows it to be." This, he said, was of course to pray for conversion to Catholicism unknown to themselves; it was taking the enemy by stratagem in his own camp. Objections were made in different quarters against the proposition. Some said it was not acting fairly and candidly; he then used to qualify it by telling them that he knew very well the truth lay in the Catholic Church alone, and so did every Catholic, and that if any Protestant asked him he would plainly tell him so. Others then said, Protestants would be all praying for proselytes to their own persuasions, for they were all in good faith, and thought themselves in the truth. These and sundry other objections were made to this mode of proceeding; it was looked upon with suspicion, as savouring too much of communication with heretics, and he never got a superior to approve of it, neither was it condemned. So it remained to the last an agitated question, which none of us would enter into, and which himself adopted with a kind of tentative adhesion. There was nothing wrong, certainly, in getting Protestants to pray for unity; but then, "unity in the truth, where God knew it to exist," was a very indefinite thing to propose to them. Questions might be raised which could only be answered in one way. What kind of unity? External or internal, or both? "Where does God know the truth to exist? Must we all put ourselves in a Cartesian doubt for a starting-point? And so on. The only answer could be—The Catholic Church. And might he not as well ask them to pray for that at once? Father Ignatius was not at all obstinate in sticking to this proposal as a theory he might reduce to practice, it came up at times in his conversation, and was dropped as easily.
The mistake it led to was, however, rather serious: it was supposed that Father Ignatius looked favourably on, if he did not entirely coincide with, a society called "The Association for Promoting the Unity of Christendom," designated by the letters A.P.U.C. With this society Father Ignatius never had anything to do; he detested its principles, although he hoped it would do good in its way. He wished it to be confined to Protestants. One leading principle of the A.P.U.C. was certainly somewhat akin to some of Father Ignatius's dreams—conversions en masse; but his notions and those of the Association were widely different. They were for coming over in a great, respectable body, whose size and standing would deserve to receive great concessions in the way of discipline, as the condition of their surrender. Father Ignatius was for an unconditional submission of each individual, and could not allow any one to wait at the door of the Church for a companion to enter with him. The en masse of Father Ignatius was no more nor less, then, than this: that the people of England should throw off their prejudices and begin in a body to examine candidly the grounds of the Catholic faith. He was glad that the Association existed, because it carried out so much of his wishes; but it went too far for him, and in a prohibited line, when it asked for Catholic prayers and sacrifices, and for Catholic members. He never, therefore, gave his name to it, though often and repeatedly solicited to do so. His greatest friend was publicly known to be a member of the Association, and much as he loved and honoured him, Father Ignatius had no hesitation in saying of him, in hoc non laudo. Even so late as the year '63 or '64, he received a bundle of their official papers, with a private letter from the secretary and a number of the Union Review; he was seen to scan them over, and then throw them into the fire. About the year '50 or '51, when he was always going about asking for prayers for unity, after the new idea that struck him, an incident occurred to bear out what is here said. He happened to be speaking with a roomful of Protestant clergymen on this very subject. They listened to him very attentively, raised objections, had them answered, and finally agreed to the justness of his proposals. They agreed, moreover, to kneel down then and pray together for unity, and asked Father Ignatius to join them. He refused at once. They pressed him on every side, and said, among other things, that he ought to set them this example. He jumped up with indignation, and said, in a manner quite unusual to him, "I'd rather be torn in pieces by forty thousand mad dogs than say a prayer with you." He hereupon left the room, and became more cautious for the future as to how and when he asked them to pray for unity. The reason of this abrupt proceeding was the law that forbids all Catholics to communicate with heretics in divine things. Joint prayer, of course, is against this law.
It is singular that, though he has left behind his thoughts drawn out in full upon all the ideas he took up from time to time about the conversion of heretics and the sanctification of Catholics, there is nothing left among his papers upon this project. We may conclude from this, as well as what has been said above, that while he looked upon the Unionists with kindness, he never adopted their principles; and such of his notions as seemed congenial to theirs will be found, on examination, to be totally different. This it was necessary to remark, as many very well informed Catholics thought poor Father Ignatius came under the censure of the Inquisition, in re A.P.U.C. It was quite a mistake, and he should have endorsed that censure himself, if he lived, and freely as he avoided what drew it down before he died.
CHAPTER VII.
Father Ignatius In 1850.
This year was so full of events interesting to Father Ignatius, that there is no leading one round which others may be grouped to head the chapter. He expected to be called to Rome towards Easter; he had even written to the General, and had received letters to that effect. The object of this visit will be best understood from the following extract from a letter written at this time, dated from 13, Garnault Place, Clerkenwell, London:—
"I am here on a mission with Father Gaudentius, and as we have not yet great press of work, I will write to tell you of an important feature in my prospects for the present year. It is, that I am going to Rome about Easter. About the time I saw you last I wrote to the General, saying that I thought this would be a good step. After that I thought no more about it till the other day a letter came from him, in which he approved the proposal; and so, after a mission which we are to give at St. George's from the first to the fourth Sunday in Lent, I propose starting. I shall be, I expect, about four months absent. I propose begging my way there, through France or Germany, which will make the journey last a month or six weeks; then, after stopping six weeks or two months in Italy, to make acquaintance with our Senior Fathers, and inform myself, as much as possible, of all the ways and spirit of our congregation (of which, of course, now I am very ignorant), I hope to bring back the General with me to make a visitation of his flock."