(April, 1882.)
Cardinal Newman is perhaps the only Catholic in England worth listening
to. He has immured his intellect in the catacombs of the Romish Church,
but he has not been able to quench it, and even there it radiates a
splendor through the gloom. His saintly character is as indubitable as
the subtlety of his mind, and no vicissitude has impaired the charm
of his style, which is pure and perfect as an exquisite and flawless
diamond; serene and chaste in its usual mood, but scintillating
gloriously in the light of his imagination.
On Sunday last Cardinal Newman preached a sermon at the Oratory in
Birmingham on "Modern Infidelity." Unfortunately we have not a full
report, from which we might be able to extract some notable passages,
but only a newspaper summary. Even this, however, shows some points of
interest.
Cardinal Newman told his hearers that "a great storm of infidelity and
irreligion was at hand," and that "some dreadful spiritual catastrophe
was coming upon them." We quite agree with the great preacher; but
every storm is not an evil, and every catastrophe is not a disaster.
The revolutionary storm in France cleared the air of much pestilence. It
dissipated as by enchantment the horrible cloud of tyranny, persecution
and want, which had for centuries hovered over the land. And certainly,
to go back a stage farther in history, the Reformation was not a
misfortune, although it looked like a "spiritual catastrophe" to a great
many amiable people. The truth is, Revolutions must occur in this world,
both in thought and in action. They may happen slowly, so that we may
accommodate ourselves to them; or rapidly, and so disturb and injure
whole generations.
But come they must, and no power can hinder them; not even that once
mighty Church which has always striven to bind Humanity to the past with
adamantine chains of dogma. In Cardinal Newman's own words, from perhaps
his greatest and most characteristic book,--"here below to live is to
change, and to be perfect is to have changed often."
We cannot say that Cardinal Newman indicates how humanity will suffer
from the "coming storm of infidelity and irreligion." He does, indeed,
refer to the awful state of a people forsaken by God, but in our humble
opinion this is somewhat ludicrous. We can hardly understand how God can
forsake his own creatures. Why all this pother if he really exists?
In that case our scepticism cannot affect him, any more than a man's
blindness obscures the sun. And surely, if Omnipotence desired us all
to believe the truth, the means are ready to hand. The God who said, Let
there be light, and there was light, could as easily say, Let all men be
Christians, and they would be Christians. If God had spoken the universe
would be convinced; and the fact that it is not convinced proves, either
that he does not exist, or that he purposely keeps silent, and desires
that we should mind our own business.
The only tangible evil Cardinal Newman ventures to indicate is the
"indignity which at this moment has come over the Holy Father at Rome."
He declares, as to the Pope, that "there hardly seems a place in the
whole of Europe where he could put his foot." The Catholics are carrying
this pretence of a captive Pope a trifle too far. His Holiness must have
a tremendous foot if he cannot put it fairly down on the floor of the
Vatican. He and his Cardinals really wail over their loss of temporal
power. It would be wiser and nobler to reconcile themselves to the
inevitable, and to end the nefarious diplomacy by which they are
continually striving to recover what is for ever lost. The whole world
is aware of the scandalous misrule and the flagrant immorality which,
under the government of the Papacy, made the Eternal City a byword and
a reproach. Under the secular government, Rome has made wonderful
progress. It has better streets, cleaner inhabitants, less fever and
filth, and a much smaller army of priests, beggars, and prostitutes.
Catholics may rest assured that the bad old times will never return.
They may, of course, promise a reformation of manners if the Holy
Father's dominion is restored, but the world will not believe them.
Reforming the Papacy, as Carlyle grimly said, is like tinkering a rusty
old kettle. If you stop up the holes of it with temporary putty, it may
hang together for awhile; but "begin to hammer at it, solder it, to what
you call mend and rectify it,--it will fall to shreds, as sure as rust
is rust; go all into nameless dissolution,--and the fat in the fire will
be a thing worth looking at, poor Pope!"
As a sincere Christian (a very rare thing, by the way, in these days),
Cardinal Newman is bound to lament the spread of infidelity. He is a
keen observer, and his word may be taken for the fact. A stormy time
is undoubtedly coming. Old creeds and institutions will have to give an
account of themselves, and nothing that cannot stand the test will live.
But truth will not suffer. Criticise the multiplication table as much as
you please, and twice two will still be four. In the storm and stress of
controversy what is true and solid will survive; only the hollow shams
of authority and superstition will collapse. Humanity has nothing to
fear, however the Churches may groan.