For a long time I have been fascinated by an apologetic format no longer in fashion: the public one-on-one exchange. In working on my latest book manuscript — which I have just completed — I have gathered together what I consider to be some of the best examples of this kind of writing from some of the best Catholic apologists ever: John Henry Newman writing against Charles Kingsley; Hilaire Belloc writing against J. B. S. Haldane and Dean Inge; Ronald Knox writing against Arnold Lunn; Arnold Lunn (by then a Catholic) writing against C. E. M. Joad, Haldane, and G. G. Coulton; and Herbert Thurston writing against Coulton — in all, eight essays.
The piece from Newman was written in 1864 and Thurston’s in 1946. The others all come from a compressed span of time, 1931 to 1935. I suppose those were the years in which this kind of writing was popular. It ought to be popular again.
That’s my prejudice speaking, of course. I simply happen to like literate exchanges between men whose substantial disagreements never diminish a high degree of civility. My book excludes contributions by the non-Catholic participants, my purpose being to show the Catholic argument. But I have to say that, in reading Joad and Haldane and the other non-Catholics, I came away impressed — not always with their arguments, some of which were flimsy, but with their erudition and good humor. Even those in error can think.
In putting together my book, which as yet is untitled, I found myself doing what I had not been forced to do for a long while: extensive research. Each of these Catholic apologists made ready reference to people, events, and literature that were expected to be familiar to well-educated people of the time. Most of the references are vague, just a last name and a quotation, perhaps, or a Latin phrase that carries with it as baggage the expectation that the reader will know, of course, that the line is from a particular oration by Cicero. That kind of thing.
For the benefit of my book’s readers, and out of mere curiosity, I decided to track down the references. Thank God for modern methods of research. The result was more than 250 footnotes, some of them extensive. First I used my home library. That covered some of the obscurities. (“Who is this ‘Bishop Barnes,’ who has no first name, and why was he important in the 1930s?”) Then I used Internet search engines. (“In which novel by Sir Walter Scott can I locate this particular sentence about ‘Steenie’?”) A CD-ROM encyclopedia helped me find some of the remaining data. (“Just what did the Bolshevists do to Tikhon, and who was he anyway?”) There remained several intransigent references, which were overcome by brute force at the nearby university library. (“Ah, so this is ‘Countess Waldeck’!”)
I learned a lot along the way, including that I wish I could participate in such an exchange some day. I like the idea of a book consisting of letters in which the writers not only discuss key issues but also show a bit of their own personalities. I have no one in mind as a potential opponent and no topic for discussion. At this point I am fascinated more with the form than the substance. Perhaps the substance will come later. In the meantime, I will return to the books from which my collection has been taken, and I will revel in good arguments couched in good writing.