So, I admit that drunkards have been pious and reverential, and I might add, honest and generous.
Some good Catholics and some good Protestants have enjoyed a hospitable glass, and there have been priests who used the blood of the grape for other than a sacramental purpose. Even Luther, a good Catholic in his day, a reformer, a Doctor of Divinity, gave to the world this couplet:
"Who loves not woman, wine and song,
Will live a fool his whole life long."
The Watchman, in effect, says that a devout robber is better than an infidel; that a penitent murderer is superior to a freethinker, in the sight of God.
Another curious thing in this article is that after sending both men to hell, the Watchman says: "As to their moral habits we know nothing."
It may then be taken for granted, if these "warm personal friends" knew nothing against the dead, that their lives were, at least, what the church calls moral. We know, if we know anything, that there is no necessary connection between what is called religion and morality. Certainly there were millions of moral people, those who loved mercy and dealt honestly, before the Catholic Church existed. The virtues were well known, and practiced, before a triple crown surrounded the cunning brain of an Italian Vicar of God, and before the flames of the Auto da fé delighted the hearts of a Christian mob. Thousands of people died for the right, before the wrong organized the infallible church.
But why should any man deem it his duty or feel it a pleasure to say harsh and cruel things of the dead? Why pierce the brow of death with the thorns of hatred? Suppose the editor of the Watchman had died, and Judge Normile had been the survivor, would the infidel and scoffer have attacked the unreplying dead?
Henry D'Arcy I did not know; but Judge Normile was my friend and I was his. Although we met but a few times, he excited my admiration and respect. He impressed me as being an exceedingly intelligent man, well informed on many subjects, of varied reading, possessed of a clear and logical mind, a poetic temperament, enjoying the beautiful things in literature and art, and the noble things in life. He gave his opinions freely, but without the least arrogance, and seemed perfectly willing that others should enjoy the privilege of differing with him. He was, so far as I could perceive, a gentleman, tender of the feelings of others, free and manly in his bearing, "of most excellent fancy," and a most charming and agreeable companion.
According, however, to the Watchman, such a man is far below a "devout robber" or a "penitent murderer." Is it possible that an assassin like Ravillac is far better than a philosopher like Voltaire; and that all the Catholic robbers and murderers who retain their faith, give greater delight to God than the Humboldts, Haeckels and Darwins who have filled the world with intellectual light?
Possibly the Catholic Church is mistaken. Possibly the Watchman is in error, and possibly there may be for the erring, even in another world, some asylum besides hell.