“This, however, though much, was not enough; the charge that Christ is Antichrist must not only be made, but must be sustained; and sustained it could not possibly be, in the vastness and enormity of its idea, as I have described it, by means of truth. Falsehood, then, has ever been the indispensable condition of the impeachment which Protestants have made; and the impeachment they make is the indispensable weapon wherewith to encounter the antagonist whom they combat. Thus you see that calumny and obloquy of every kind is, from the nature of the case, the portion of the church while she has enemies—that is, in other words, while she is militant—her position, that is, if she is to be argued with at all; and argued with she must be, because man, from the very force of his moral constitution, cannot content himself in his warfare, of whatever kind, with the mere use of brute force. The lion rends his prey, and gives no reason for doing so; but man cannot persecute without assigning to himself a reason for his act; he must settle it with his conscience; he must have sufficient reasons, and, if good reasons are not forthcoming, there is no help for it; he must put up with bad. How to conflict with the moral
influence of the church being taken as the problem to be solved, nothing is left but to misstate and defame; there is no alternative. Tame facts, elaborate inductions, subtle presumptions, will not avail with the many; something which will cut a dash, something gaudy and staring, something inflammatory, is the rhetoric in request. He must make up his mind, then, to resign the populace to the action of the Catholic Church, or he must slander her to her greater confusion. This, I maintain, is the case; this, I consider, must be the case; bad logic, false facts; and I really do think that candid men, of whatever persuasion, though they will not express themselves exactly in the words I have used, will agree with me in substance; will allow that, putting aside the question whether Protestantism can be supported by any other method than controversy—for instance, by simple establishment, or by depriving Catholics of education, or by any other violent expedient—still, if popular controversy is to be used, then fable, not truth; calumny, not justice, will be its staple. Strip it of its fallacies and its fiction, and where are you?”[95]
Where would the Rev. Mr. Scribner be if his article were stripped of its fallacies and its fiction? What would become of the Princeton Review if it should publish a fair and favorable account of the life and writings of Dr. Faber, without the potent antidote administered along with that sweet draught of stolen waters which might otherwise prove too alluring to some of the young and candid members of the Presbyterian flock? The writer of the article, who has evidently been educated in the old-fashioned Protestant tradition about the Catholic Church, has fallen in love with Dr. Faber and his works, and with the greatest frankness and candor has opened his mind to the public. We can see plainly reflected in his pages the astonishment which came over him as he began and went on from volume to
volume of the writings of the eloquent Oratorian, and from page to page of his charming biography. We can see, with equal distinctness, how he fell back on the old Protestant view, the old prejudice, with a sort of violent effort, in order to protect himself against the new light which had beamed on his mind and the new sentiments which had stolen unbidden into his heart. Moreover, since he could not deny himself the pleasure of communicating the new treasure he had found to his fellow-Presbyterians, he could not help feeling that they also needed a safeguard, and could find none that would answer except the old one behind whose shelter he had hidden himself. Suppose that a number of earnest and inquisitive Presbyterians should be induced, by reading the sketch of Dr. Faber’s life and writings furnished by one of their own pastors, to purchase or borrow the books which he so much delights in? Suppose they should come to the conclusion that the beautiful character of F. Faber is a fair specimen of the fruit which the Catholic religion produces? That his doctrine is really and truly the Catholic doctrine which flows from the lips of all our preachers and from the pens of all our spiritual writers? Suppose these same persons should meet with some priest possessing somewhat of the same spirit with F. Faber, should listen to his conversation and hear his sermons, or should perhaps attend a mission or retreat? We ask the question, not as a Catholic, but as any one might ask it, and simply looking at it as a question of the gain or loss of vantage-ground by the respective parties. Does not any one see, that whereas we have need of nothing more than a fair chance to compare the evidence, the excellence, the attractiveness of the two
religions, in order to hold our old ground and gain new, the Presbyterian has lost the greatest advantage he has hitherto possessed, as soon as the frightful cloud of odium which the old Protestant view has thrown around us has been dissipated? Therefore, that odium must be kept up; that antecedent impossibility that there can be any truth in the claims of the Catholic Church because it is so very wicked, must be placed as a bar to the ingress of every argument. So has the Rev. Mr. Scribner reasoned and acted. We will not impute to him a deliberate and conscious purpose to falsify or calumniate, and are willing to admit that he is probably in a great measure the victim of the gigantic fraud which he indorses and recommends. His language about the Catholic Church and her hierarchy is of that kind which might justly cause the cheek of any one not steeled to the endurance of the grossest insults to mantle with indignation. But, when we reflect on the fact that many honest, candid, and well-disposed minds are duped to such an extent by this fraudulent Protestant tradition that they are almost incapable of seeing anything except through its medium, we are more inclined to pity than anger. It is a great misfortune, even when it is not a wilful fault, to be under the control of this horrid delusion, this gloomy nightmare, which besets the very cradle, haunts the nursery, and sits brooding and glowering on the breast of so great a multitude of our fellow-Christians. We will, therefore, try to do something to relieve them of this incubus, and to lead them to think and feel more rationally and justly about Catholics and their religion. We will take the expression of the common Protestant view by the author before us in its objective
sense, without reference to his personal and subjective motives in repeating such ignominious charges, and simply examine them in themselves and with reference to the grounds on which they rest.
The first passage we quote is the last sentence of the article. It is expressed conditionally as to the form, because the direct statement of the author was quite different, and apparently contrary to it. Yet it does not appear that the author entertains any doubt, or at least intends to suggest any doubt, of its truth:
“We may admit that the Papacy is the Mystical Babylon, the Scarlet Woman, the Antichrist drunk with the blood of the saints, ‘the great Whore which did corrupt the earth with her fornication,’ and yet believe that God has a people in the Church of Rome who live and die within her pale.”
Here we have what Dr. Newman calls the “expedient of superhuman genius,” the startling, fascinating, terrifying idea, the Protestant view, which forestalls all argument by prepossessing the imagination with a nightmare of preternatural horror. The writer has had this image before him from a child. He alludes to it as something well known to his readers. It is like the “Old Smoker” in the chimney, or the goblin in the garret, or the mad bull around the corner, waiting to execute vengeance on naughty little girls and boys who ask questions. We find it very difficult to argue seriously against this chimera. It is like arguing against the odd fancy of the eccentric Jesuit Hardouin, that the North American Indians are the descendants of devils. It is revolting or ludicrous as it is looked at in different lights. It appears to our mind to be vulgar, silly, superstitious, and fanatical. Not, of course, because it is the use of
language and imagery taken from the Scripture, but because it is a wholly arbitrary, fanciful, and unwarrantable use and application of such language and imagery. It is like the grotesque use of Scriptural names and images by the fanatics of the Cromwellian revolution. It is assumed as something certain and well known that the Papacy is foretold and described in these prophetic visions and predictions, as certain and well known as the interpretation of Joseph’s dream, the dreams of the chief butler and chief baker of Pharaoh, the vision of Nabuchodonosor, or the Messianic predictions of Daniel. Nothing short of this would justify the manner in which Protestant writers apply these terms to the Roman Church, and shut out all calm and sober consideration of her claims and doctrines by an appeal to the prophecies respecting Antichrist and Babylon. You cannot argue from a mere hypothesis, as if it were a fact or a certain truth. In this case, the entire probability of the hypothesis depends on first proving that the Roman Church really possesses and exhibits the qualities which must belong to the objects of the prediction. A sober and rational inquiry into the real meaning of these sublime, terrible, and obscure prophecies exacts, first of all, a study of the interpretation of the fathers. It requires, moreover, an examination and due appreciation of the expositions of Catholic commentators. It must be dispassionate and scientific in its character. Now, the vulgar Protestant application of these prophecies to the Roman Church has none of these characteristics. It finds no countenance from any writers before the time of the so-called Reformation. It was invented and used as a convenient and telling weapon of assault. It is rejected by