.
As far as he was concerned, the Baptist had already hanged himself.
“Furthermore,” Brown went on, “the translators were all sprinklers themselves. As a result, the language has been so changed by this influence that it is not to be depended upon.”
Thaddeus knew what the next gambit would be. And sure enough, the man made his pitch, repeating the argument he had put forth at their first confrontation.
“My good friend here,” Brown pointed to Thaddeus, “relies upon the King James version of this Book of Books. He does not know how to read Greek or Latin.”
Thaddeus allowed himself a small nod of the head in response to this.
“I, however, have read the original Greek and Latin texts for myself, and I can tell you that this Bible, this Protestant Bible, has been mistranslated, particularly with respect to Baptism. If you read it in Greek, or if you read it in Latin, it is clear that the Lord Jesus was in favour of full immersion.”
There was another round of clapping from the Baptists in the crowd. Brown bowed in acknowledgment, and then he nodded smugly at Thaddeus and stepped back.
Thaddeus was astonished. This was no argument at all. Brown had quoted no verses, cited no authorities, had done nothing but repeat the statements he had made at the camp meeting. This was too easy. Thaddeus felt a twinge of disappointment. He had been looking forward to a spirited debate that would test his skills as both an orator and a logician, not this pale excuse for a debate. Then he recalled his duty, and knew that this day he would bring many to the Methodist Episcopal Church.
He stepped forward, cast a long look around him, resisted the urge to look toward the fence, and then turned to Brown.
“Thank you very much for that insightful summary, Mr. Brown,” he said. A handful of people caught the sarcasm in his voice and snickered a little.
“I’m afraid, however, that you have seized the wrong end of the argument. Now, you must understand me clearly. I certainly do not mean to say, or to be understood to say, that the Reverend Mr. Brown is an infidel.”
There was a gasp. Thaddeus held his hand up in admonishment.
“No, indeed, I hold him as a Christian brother. But I do believe that he has mistaken his way on the doctrine of Baptism. And I must say that I have never in my life met an infidel who strove to invalidate and render useless the Protestant Bible so much as he does.”
He had the crowd’s full attention now. This was more like what they were expecting.
“No, I would prefer to believe that Mr. Brown just didn’t understand properly what he was saying or doing. He pressed the open Bible to his heart and declared his intense love for it.”
“Yes, he did!” someone shouted.
“He said he esteemed it above any other book. That it was the Book of Books!”
Thaddeus paused for a moment to let the tension build before he went on.
“And then he turns right around and claims that this Book of Books, this Book that he loves with all his heart, is nothing more than a mistranslated piece of nonsense!”
There was wild applause at this. Thaddeus waited until it had just started to diminish, just slightly, and then he turned to the Baptist minister. “Well, which is it, Mr. Brown?”
He thought he would be deafened by the roar that went up. He had to admit to himself that it was a lovely piece of rhetoric, and he couldn’t believe that any minister who had achieved ordination would not have seen the contradiction in the Baptist’s argument. Brown was red in the face, his mouth opening and closing. He wanted a rebuttal, Thaddeus could see, but the crowd wasn’t going to let him have it. Neither was Thaddeus.
He held his hand up to quell the noise. He wasn’t quite finished yet.
“It is true that I read neither Latin nor Greek, as Mr. Brown claims to. Nor do many of the people here today.” He was reasonably sure that a great many of the people gathered in the yard had difficulty enough with English, and he would be astonished if there were more than one or two persons present who were conversant with the classical languages, but the implication that it was a possibility was a compliment to his audience, and they took it as such.
“Neither could the people of England when long ago King James gathered the finest scholars in the land to translate the scriptures into a language that all could understand. These scholars were the most educated minds of their time. They were chosen carefully. They had spent countless years in the study of ancient languages. And God smiled upon their efforts.”
Again, Thaddeus paused, and assumed a look of perplexity.
“Mr. Brown thanks God that he can read Greek and Latin for himself. He will not believe any man or any set of men with whom he disagrees, because he knows for himself the Protestant Bible was not translated correctly. He knows. And yet, for all his supposed learning, he has not given you one single example of this so-called mistranslation. He has not quoted a single verse to support his argument. All he has done is insist that you believe him because he is wiser than the finest minds in England.”
“Good point!” someone shouted. Thaddeus looked down at Martha, who grinned at him.
“You can claim that certain passages in the Bible were mistranslated if you like.”
“No!” someone shouted.
“But if some of them are wrong, doesn’t it stand to reason that all of them are wrong?”
“No, no!” More voices joined the protest.
“But if some of them are wrong and some of them are right, which ones are which? Mr. Brown claims to know, because he can read Latin and Greek. The question remains: How well? Better than I can, that’s true enough. Better than most of us.”
Again, the little compliment.
“But better than scholars who have spent their entire lifetimes in study? I think not. I think I know where a mistranslation is most likely to occur.”
Another small cheer.
“And yet, Mr. Brown claims to love the Bible above all things. He holds it to his heart and proclaims it the Book of Books. But only some parts of it. The parts he agrees with. Well, I’m sorry, Mr. Brown. You cannot have it both ways.”
There was a stirring off to Thaddeus’s right. It was Brown, who had climbed down from the wagon and was striding through the crowd toward the gate.
Thaddeus called after him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Brown. I don’t understand your argument. Because you have made none.”
There was a huge round of applause and a few cheers as Thaddeus drove his point home.
“Let us then look at what this mistranslated Book of Books actually says to us, in language we can understand, as provided by King James’s best scholars. ‘For thou shalt be his witness unto all men of what thou hast seen and heard. And now why tarriest thou? Arise, and be baptized, and wash away thy sins, calling on the name of the Lord.’”
The field was his, and now Thaddeus would give these people what they had come for. On and on he went, quoting, explaining, expostulating, until finally, after an exhausting three hours on his feet, he signalled Small to end the service with a hymn.
The crowd sang loudly and enthusiastically. As the last notes died away, many of the attendees surged forward, anxious to speak with Thaddeus, keen to abandon whatever creeds they had followed until then and join with the Methodist Episcopals. By the time he had treated with them all, Ellen Howell had once again disappeared.
IV
Thaddeus saw Martha and the Small family off in the hay wagon before he headed west in the wake of his triumph. He would work his way through Hamilton and Hope Townships, then carry on along the shore of Lake Ontario to Cobourg for a few days rest before he and James traded routes.
For