A BATTLE OF GIANTS
"Now, Father Irwin," said the chairman, addressing a smart, keen-looking
young priest who sat at the end of the table, "you have just come back
to us from Australia; of course, everything is perfect there. What do
you think--are the particles in a ciborium, left by inadvertence,
outside the corporal during consecration consecrated? Now, just reflect
for a moment, for it is an important matter."
"Unquestionably they are," said the young priest confidently.
"They are _not_," replied the chairman. "The whole consensus of
theologians is against you."
"For example?" said Father Irwin coolly.
"Wha-at?" said the chairman, taken quite aback.
"I doubt if all theologians are on your side," said Father Irwin. "Would
you be pleased to name a few?"
"Certainly," said the chairman, with a pitying smile at this young man's
presumption. "What do you think of Benedict XIV., Suarez, and St.
Alphonsus?"
The young man didn't seem to be much crushed under the avalanche.
"They held that there should be reconsecration?"
"Certainly."
"Let me see. Do I understand you aright? The celebrant intends from the
beginning to consecrate those particles?"
"Yes."
"The intention perseveres to the moment of consecration?"
"Yes!"
"And, the _materia_ being quite right, he intends to consecrate that
objective, that just lies inadvertently outside the corporal?"
"Quite so."
"And you say that Benedict XIV., Suarez, and St. Alphonsus maintain the
necessity of reconsecration?"
"Yes."
"Then I pity Benedict XIV., Suarez, and St. Alphonsus."
There was consternation. The bishop looked grave. The old men gaped in
surprise and horror. The young men held down their heads and smiled.
"I consider that a highly improper remark, as applied to the very
leading lights of theological science," said the chairman, with a frown.
And when the chairman frowned it was not pleasant. The bishop's face,
too, was growing tight and stern.
"Perhaps I should modify it," said the young priest airily. "Perhaps I
should have rather said that modern theologians and right reason are
dead against such an opinion."
"Quote one modern theologian that is opposed to the common and universal
teaching of theologians on the matter!"
"Well, Ballerini, for example, and the Salmanticenses--"
"Psha! Ballerini. Ballerini is to upset everything, I suppose?"
"Ballerini has the Missal and common sense on his side."
"The Missal?"
"Yes. Read this--or shall I read it?
"'Quidquid horum deficit, scilicet materia debita, forma cum
intentione, et ordo sacerdotalis, non conficitur Sacramentum; et
his existentibus, quibuscunque aliis deficientibus, veritas adest
Sacramenti.'"
"Quite so. The whole point turns on the words _cum intentione_. The
Church forbids, under pain of mortal sin, to consecrate outside the
corporal; consequently, the priest cannot be presumed to have the
intention of committing a _grave_ just at the moment of consecration;
and, therefore, he cannot be supposed to have the intention of
consecrating."
"Pardon me, if I say, sir," replied the young priest, "that that is the
weakest and most fallacious argument I ever heard advanced. That
reasoning supposes the totally inadmissible principle that there never
is a valid consecration when, inadvertently, the priest forgets some
Rubric that is binding under pain of mortal sin. If, for example, the
priest used fermented bread, if the corporal weren't blessed, in which
case the chalice and paten would be outside the corporal, as well as the
ciborium; if the chalice itself weren't consecrated, there would be no
sacrifice and no consecration. Besides, if you once commence
interpreting intention in this manner, you should hold that if the
ciborium were covered on the corporal, there would be no consecration--"
"That's only a venial sin," said the chairman.
"A priest, when celebrating," said Father Irwin sweetly, "is no more
supposed to commit a venial than a mortal sin. Besides--"
"I'm afraid our time is running short," said the bishop; "I'll remember
your arguments, which are very ingenious, Father Irwin. But, as the
chairman says, the _consensus_ is against you. Now, for the main
Conference, _de textibus Sacræ Scripturæ_."
"Father Duff will read his paper, my Lord, and then we'll discuss it."
"Very good. Now, Father Duff!"
Father Duff was another representation of the new dispensation, with a
clear-cut, smooth-shaven face, large blue-black eyes, which, however,
were not able to fulfil their duties, for, as he took out a large roll
of manuscript from his pocket, he placed a gold-rimmed _pince-nez_ to
his eyes, and looking calmly around, he began to read in a slow,
rhythmic voice. It was a wonderful voice, too, for its soft, purring,
murmurous intonation began to have a curious effect on the brethren. One
by one they began to be seized by its hypnotic influence, and to yield
to its soft, soporific magic, until, to my horror and disgust, they
bowed their heads on their breasts, and calmly slept. Even the Master of
Conference, and the bishop himself, gently yielded, after a severe
struggle. "I shall have it all to myself," I said, "and if I don't
profit much by its historical aspects, I shall at least get a few big
rocks of words, unusual or obsolete, to fling at my curate." And so I
did. Codex Alexandrinus, and Codex Sinaiticus, and Codex Bezæ, and Codex
Vaticanus rang through my bewildered brain. Then I have a vague
recollection that he actually laughed at the idea of six literal days of
creation, which made an old priest, out of his dreams, turn over to me
and whisper: "He's an infidel"; then, again, he ridiculed the idea of
the recognized authorship of the Pentateuch; spoke of Chaldean and
Babylonian interpolations; knocked on the head the Davidical origin of
the Psalms; made the Book of Daniel half-apocryphal; introduced the
Book of Job, as a piece of Arabian poetry, like the songs of some man
called Hafiz; talked about Johannine Gospels and Pauline Epistles; and,
altogether, left us to think that, by something called Ritschlian
interpretations, the whole Bible was knocked into a cocked hat. Then he
began to build up what he had thrown down; and on he went, in his
rhythmical, musical way, when just as he declared that "the basal
document on which everything is founded is the ur-evangelium, which is
the underlying cryptic element of the Synoptic Gospels,"--just as he
reached that point, and was going on about Tatian's "Diatessaron," a
deep stertorous sound, like the trumpeting of an elephant, reverberated
through the conference room. They all woke up, smiling at me, and as
they did not seem inclined to apologize to Father Duff for their
misbehavior, I said gravely and most angrily:--
"My Lord, I think the Conference should be a little less unconscious of
the grave discourtesy done to one of the most able and erudite papers
that I have ever heard here--"
There was a shout of irreverent laughter, in which, I am sorry to say,
the bishop joined. At least, I saw his Lordship taking out a silk
handkerchief and wiping his eyes.
"I propose now, my Lord, as an _amende_ to the most cultured and
distinguished young priest, that that valuable paper be sent, with your
Lordship's approbation, to some ecclesiastical journal in Ireland or
America. Its appearance in permanent print may give these young men some
idea of the contents of the document, the main features of which they
have lost by yielding, I think too easily, to the seductions of
ill-timed sleep--"
Here there was another yell of laughter, that sounded to my ears
ill-placed and discourteous; but the chairman again interposed:--
"Now, Father Duff, if you are not too highly flattered by the encomiums
of Father Dan, who was your most attentive and admiring listener, I
should like to ask you a few questions on the subject-matter of your
paper."
"Surely," I declared, "you are not going to attack such a stronghold?
Besides, the time is up."
"There is a full hour yet, Father Dan," said the bishop, consulting his
watch; "but you won't mind it, you are able to pass your time so
agreeably."
I did not grasp his Lordship's meaning; but I never do try to penetrate
into mysteries. What's that the Scripture says? "The searcher after
majesty will be overwhelmed with glory."
But the little skirmishes that had taken place before the paper was read
were nothing to the artillery-duel that was now in progress.
"With regard to the Septuagint," said the chairman, "I think you made a
statement about the history of its compilation that will hardly bear a
test. You are aware, of course, that Justin, Martyr and Apologist,
declares that he saw, with his own eyes, the cells where the Seventy
were interned by order, or at the request, of Ptolemy Philadelphus. How,
then, can the letter of Aristeas be regarded as apocryphal?"
"Well, it does not follow that the whole letter is authentic merely
because a clause is verified. Secondly, that statement imputed to Justin
may be also apocryphal."
"Do you consider the names of the seventy-two elders also unauthentic?"
"Quite so."
"And altogether you would regard the Septuagint as a rather doubtful
version of the Ancient Law?"
"I'd only accept it so far as it agrees with the Vulgate and the
Codices."
"But you're aware it was in common use amongst cultivated Jews years
before the coming of our Lord; in fact, it may be regarded as a
providential means of preparing the way of the Lord for the Jews of
Greece and Alexandria."
"That proves nothing."
"It proves this. It is well known that the Hebrews were scrupulously
exact about every title and letter, and even vowel-point--"
"I beg your pardon, sir; the Hebrews before Christ didn't use
vowel-points."
"That's a strong assertion," said the chairman, reddening.
"It is true. I appeal to his Lordship," said Father Duff.
"Well," said the bishop diplomatically, "that appears to be the received
opinion; but the whole thing is wrapped up in the mists and the twilight
of history."
I thought that admirable.
"To pass away from that subject," said the chairman, now somewhat
nervous and alarmed, "I think you made statements, or rather laid down a
principle, that Catholics can hardly accept."
Father Duff waited.
"It was to the effect that in studying the history of the Bible, as well
as in interpreting its meaning, we must take into account the
discoveries and the deductions of modern science."
"Quite so."
"In other words, we are to adopt the conclusions of German rationalistic
schools, and set aside completely the supernatural elements in the
Bible."
"Pardon me; I hardly think that deduction quite legitimate. There are
two schools of thought in the Church on this question: the one maintains
with Dr. Kaulen, of Bonn, that the conclusions of modern criticism are
so certainly erroneous that young students should not notice them at
all. The other holds that we must read our Bibles by the light of modern
interpretation. The official Encyclical of the present Pope Leo XIII.
('Providentissimus Deus') should have closed the controversy; but men
are tenacious of their opinions, and both schools in Germany utilize the
Encyclical for their own ends. Professor Aurelian Schöpfer, of the
Brixen, at once published his book ('Bible and Science'), in which he
maintained that the teaching of the natural sciences may be used by
Catholics not only to confirm Biblical statements, but to interpret
them. As I have said, he was opposed by Kaulen, of Bonn. There was a
second duel between Schantz of Tübingen, and Scholz of Würzburg. The
former insisted that no new principle of Biblical interpretation has
been introduced by the Encyclical; the latter that the principle of
scientific investigation was recognized, and was to be applied. Now, a
Protestant, König of Rostock, was interested in this Catholic
controversy, and collected seventy reviews of Schöpfer's work by leading
scholars in Germany, Austria, France, Ireland, America; and he found
that five sixths endorse the position of the author--"
"You might add, Father Duff," said my curate, who was an interested
listener to the whole argument, and who had been hitherto silent, "that
these reviewers found fault with Schöpfer for ignoring the _consensus
patrum_, and for decidedly naturalistic tendencies."
The whole Conference woke up at this new interlude. The chairman looked
grateful; the bishop leaned forward.
"But the 'Civiltà Cattolica,'" said Father Duff, "which we may regard as
official, says, in its review of the same book: 'Biblical history cannot
be any longer stated except in agreement with the true and correct
teaching of the Bible and the reasonable conclusions of the natural
sciences.'"
"Quite so," said Father Letheby, "that applies to the certain
discoveries of geology and astronomy. But surely you don't maintain that
philology, which only affects us just now, is an exact science."
"Just as exact as the other sciences you have mentioned."
"That is, as exact as a mathematical demonstration?"
"Quite so."
"Come now," said my curate, like a fellow that was sure of himself,
"that's going too far."
"Not at all," said Father Duff; "I maintain that the evidence of history
on the one hand, and the external evidence of monuments on the other,
combined with the internal evidence of Scriptural idiomatisms of time
and place, are equivalent to a mathematical demonstration."
"You'll admit, I suppose," said Father Letheby, "that languages change
their structures and meanings very often?"
"Certainly."
"The English of Shakespeare is not ours."
"Quite so."
"Even words have come to have exactly antithetical meanings, even in a
lapse of three hundred years."
"Very good."
"And it is said that, owing to accretions, the language we speak will be
unintelligible in a hundred years' time."
"Possibly."
"Now, would you not say that a contemporary of Shakespeare's would be a
better judge of his poetry and its allusive and natural meaning than
ever so learned a linguist, after an interval of change?"
"Well, I should say so. I don't know where you are drifting."
"What is the reason that we never heard of these 'internal evidences,'
these 'historical coincidences,' these 'exclusive idioms,' from Origen
or Dionysius, or from Jerome or Augustine, from any one of the Fathers,
who held what we hold, and what the Church has always taught, about the
authorship of the Sacred Books, and to whom Hebrew and Greek were
vernacular?"
"But, my dear sir, there are evident interpolations even in the
Gospels. Do you really mean to tell me that that canticle of the
_Magnificat_ was uttered by a young Hebrew girl on Hebron, and was not
rather the deliberate poetical conception of the author of St. Luke's
Gospel?"
I jumped from my seat; but I needn't have done so. I saw by the
whitening under my curate's eyes, and the compression of his lips, and
his eyes glowing like coal, that our dear little Queen's honor was safe
in his hands. Father Duff couldn't have stumbled on a more unhappy
example for himself. Father Letheby placed his elbows on the table and,
leaning forward, he said in a low, tremulous voice:
"You may be very learned, Father, and I believe you are; but for all the
learning stored up in those German universities, which you so much
admire, I would not think as you appear to think on this sacred subject.
If anything could show the tendency of modern interpretations of the
Holy Scriptures, it would be the painful and almost blasphemous opinion
to which you have just given expression. It is the complete elimination
of the supernatural, the absolute denial of Inspiration. If the
_Magnificat_ is not an inspired utterance, I should like to know what
is."
There was a painful silence for a few seconds, during which I could hear
the ticking of my watch. Then the Master of Conference arose, and,
kneeling, said the _Actiones nostras_. We were all gathering up our
books and papers to disperse, when the Bishop said:--
"Gentlemen, the annual procession in honor of our Blessed Lady will be
held in the Cathedral and College grounds on the evening of May the
31st. I shall be glad to see there as many of you as can attend. Dinner
at four; rosary and sermon at seven o'clock. Father Letheby, would you
do me the favor of preaching for us on that occasion?"
Father Letheby blushed an affirmative; and then the bishop, with
delightful tact, turned to the humbled and almost effaced Father Duff,
and said:--
"Father Duff, leave me that paper; I think I'll adopt the admirable
suggestion of our friend, Father Dan."
Some of the young fellows, wits and wags as they were, circulated
through the diocese the report that I tried to kiss the bishop. Now,
there is not a word of truth in that--and for excellent reasons. First,
because like Zacchæus, I am short of stature; and the bishop--God bless
him!--is a fine, portly man. Secondly, because I have an innate and
congenital dread of that little square of purple under his Lordship's
chin. I'm sure I don't know why, but it always gives me the shivers. I'm
told that they are allowing some new class of people called
"Monsignori," and even some little canons, to assume the distinctive
color of the episcopate. 'T is a great mistake. Our Fathers in God should
have their own peculiar colors, as they have their own peculiar and
tremendous responsibilities. But I'll tell you what I did. I kissed the
bishop's ring, and I think I left a deep indentation on his Lordship's
little finger.
The Master of Conference detained me.
"I'm beginning to like that young fellow of yours," he said. "He appears
to have more piety than learning."
"He has both," I replied.
"So he has; so he has, indeed. What are we coming to? What are we coming
to, at all?"
"Then I suppose," I said, "I needn't mind that bell?"
"What bell?"
"The bell that I was to tie around his neck."
"Father Dan, you have too long a memory; good by! I'm glad you've not
that infidel, Duff, as curate."
We went home at a rapid pace, my curate and I, both too filled with
thought to speak much. At last, I said, shaking up:--
"I'm beginning to think that I, too, took forty winks during the reading
of that paper."
"I think about forty minutes of winks, Father Dan," he replied. "You
slept steadily for forty minutes out of the forty-five."
"That's a calumnious exaggeration," I said; "don't I remember all about
Job, and Daniel, and the synoptic Gospels."
"These were a few preliminaries," replied my curate.
"But who was that undignified and ungentlemanly fellow that woke us all
with such a snore? I suppose it was Delaney?"
"No; it was not Delaney. He was too agitated after his rencontre with
the chairman to fall asleep."
"Indeed? Perhaps it would be as well for me not to pursue the subject
further. This will be a great sermon of yours."
"I'm very nervous about it," he said, shaking the reins. "It is not the
sermon I mind, but all the dislike and jealousy and rancor it will
cause."
"You can avoid all that," I replied.
"How?"
"Break down hopelessly and they'll all love you. That is the only road
to popularity--to make a fool of yourself."
"I did that to-day," he said. "I made a most determined cast-iron
resolution not to open my lips unless I was interrogated, but I could
not stand that perkiness and self-sufficiency of Duff, especially when
it developed into irreverence."
"If you had not spoken I should have challenged him; and I am not sure I
would have been so polite as you were. The thing was unpardonable."
We dined at Father Letheby's. Just after dinner there was a timid knock
at the door. He went out, and returned in a few minutes looking
despondent and angry. I had heard the words from the hall:--
"She must give it up, your reverence. Her little chest is all falling
in, and she's as white as a corpse."
"One of the girls giving up work at the machines," he replied. "She's
suffering from chest trouble, it appears, from bending over this work."
"Who is she?" I queried.
"Minnie Carmody--that tall girl who sat near the door."
"H'm," I said. "I think it would be nearer the truth to say that Minnie
Carmody's delicacy comes from the vinegar bottle and white paper. She
was ashamed of her red face, and this is the latest recommendation of
the novelette to banish roses, and leave the lilies of anæmia and
consumption."
"It augurs badly, however," he replied. "The factory is not open quite a
month yet."