Apologia Pro Vita Sua | Page 4

obliged now to say. I am in warfare
with him, but I wish him no ill;--it is very difficult to get up resentment
towards persons whom one has never seen. It is easy enough to be
irritated with friends or foes vis-à-vis; but, though I am writing with all
my heart against what he has said of me, I am not conscious of personal
unkindness towards himself. I think it necessary to write as I am
writing, for my own sake, and for the sake of the Catholic Priesthood;
but I wish to impute nothing worse to him than that he has been
furiously carried away by his feelings. Yet what shall I say of the
upshot of all his talk of my economies and equivocations and the like?
What is the precise work which it is directed to effect? I am at war with
him; but there is such a thing as legitimate warfare: war has its laws;
there are things which may fairly be done, and things which may not be
done. I say it with shame and with stern sorrow;--he has attempted a
great transgression; he has attempted (as I may call it) to poison the
wells. I will quote him and explain what I mean.... He says,--
"I am henceforth in doubt and fear, as much as any honest man can be,
concerning every word Dr. Newman may write. How can I tell that I
shall not be the dupe of some cunning equivocation, of one of the three
kinds laid down as permissible by the blessed Alfonso da Liguori and
his pupils, even when confirmed by an oath, because 'then we do not
deceive our neighbour, but allow him to deceive himself?' ... It is
admissible, therefore, to use words and sentences which have a double
signification, and leave the hapless hearer to take which of them he
may choose. What proof have I, then, that by 'mean it? I never said it!'
Dr. Newman does not signify, I did not say it, but I did mean it?"--Pp.
44, 45.
Now these insinuations and questions shall be answered in their proper
places; here I will but say that I scorn and detest lying, and quibbling,
and double-tongued practice, and slyness, and cunning, and smoothness,
and cant, and pretence, quite as much as any Protestants hate them; and
I pray to be kept from the snare of them. But all this is just now by the

bye; my present subject is my Accuser; what I insist upon here is this
unmanly attempt of his, in his concluding pages, to cut the ground from
under my feet;--to poison by anticipation the public mind against me,
John Henry Newman, and to infuse into the imaginations of my readers,
suspicion and mistrust of everything that I may say in reply to him.
This I call poisoning the wells.
"I am henceforth in doubt and fear," he says, "as much as any honest
man can be, concerning every word Dr. Newman may write. How can I
tell that I shall not be the dupe of some cunning equivocation?" ...
Well, I can only say, that, if his taunt is to take effect, I am but wasting
my time in saying a word in answer to his calumnies; and this is
precisely what he knows and intends to be its fruit. I can hardly get
myself to protest against a method of controversy so base and cruel,
lest in doing so, I should be violating my self-respect and
self-possession; but most base and most cruel it is. We all know how
our imagination runs away with us, how suddenly and at what a
pace;--the saying, "Cæsar's wife should not be suspected," is an
instance of what I mean. The habitual prejudice, the humour of the
moment, is the turning-point which leads us to read a defence in a good
sense or a bad. We interpret it by our antecedent impressions.
The very same sentiments, according as our jealousy is or is not awake,
or our aversion stimulated, are tokens of truth or of dissimulation and
pretence. There is a story of a sane person being by mistake shut up in
the wards of a Lunatic Asylum, and that, when he pleaded his cause to
some strangers visiting the establishment, the only remark he elicited in
answer was, "How naturally he talks! you would think he was in his
senses." Controversies should be decided by the reason; is it legitimate
warfare to appeal to the misgivings of the public mind and to its
dislikings? Any how, if my accuser is able thus to practise upon my
readers, the more I succeed, the less will be my success. If I am natural,
he will tell them "Ars est celare artem;" if I am convincing,