it
not come as an offence, as a scandal even, to those unacquainted
with the niceties of Catholic dogma? Such were the uneasy
reflections of grave and learned ecclesiastics and theologians in
England, France, and Germany. Newman was more than usually upset;
Monseigneur Dupanloup was disgusted; and Dr. Dollinger prepared
himself for resistance. It was clear that there would be a
disaffected minority at the Council.

Catholic apologists have often argued that the Pope's claim to
infallibility implies no more than the necessary claim of every
ruler, of every government, to the right of supreme command. In
England, for instance, the Estates of the Realm exercise an
absolute authority in secular matters; no one questions this
authority, no one suggests that it is absurd or exorbitant; in
other words, by general consent the Estates of the Realm are,
within their sphere, infallible. Why, therefore, should the Pope,
within his sphere-- the sphere of the Catholic Church-- be denied
a
similar infallibility? If there is nothing monstrous in an Act of
Parliament laying down what all men shall do, why should there be
anything monstrous in a Papal Encyclical laying down what all men
shall believe? The argument is simple; in fact, it is too simple;
for it takes for granted the very question which is in dispute.
Is there indeed no radical and essential distinction between
supremacy and infallibility? Between the right of a Borough
Council to regulate the traffic and the right of the Vicar of
Christ to decide upon the qualifications for Everlasting Bliss?

There is one distinction, at any rate, which is palpable: the