APOLOGIA PRO VITA SUA

By John Henry (Cardinal) Newman

London: Publishedby J. M. Dent & Sons Ltd. And in New Yorkby E. P. Dutton & Co. 

Introduction

_"No autobiography in the English language has been more read; tothe nineteenth century it bears a relation not less characteristicthan Boswell's 'Johnson' to the eighteenth. "_

Rev. Wm. Barry, D. D. 

Newman was already a recognised spiritual leader of over thirtyyear's standing, but not yet a Cardinal, when in 1864 he wrote the_Apologia_. He was London born, and he had, as many Londoners havehad, a foreign strain in him. His father came of Dutch stock; hismother was a Fourdrinier, daughter of an old French Huguenot familysettled in this country. The date of his birth, 21st of February1801, relates him to many famous contemporaries, from Heine to Renan, from Carlyle to Pusey. Sent to school at Ealing--an imaginativeseven-year-old schoolboy, he was described even then as being fond ofbooks and seriously minded. It is certain he was deeply read in theEnglish Bible, thanks to his mother's care, before he began Latin andGreek. Another lifelong influence--as we may be prepared to find by asignal reference in the following autobiography, was Sir WalterScott; and in a later page he speaks of reading in bed _Waverley_ and_Guy Mannering_ when they first came out--"in the early summermornings, " and of his delight in hearing _The Lay of the LastMinstrel_ read aloud. Like Ruskin, another nineteenth-century masterof English prose, he was finely affected by these two powerfulinductors. They worked alike upon his piety and his imagination whichwas its true servant, and they helped to foster his seeminglyinstinctive style and his feeling for the English tongue. 

In 1816 he went to Oxford--to Trinity College--and two years latergained a scholarship there. His father's idea was that he should readfor the bar, and he kept a few terms at Lincoln's Inn; but in the endOxford, which had, about the year of his birth, experienced a rebirthof ideas, thanks to the widening impulse of the French Revolution, held him, and Oriel College--the centre of the "Noetics, " as oldOxford called the Liberal set in contempt--made him a fellow. Hisassociation there with Pusey and Keble is a matter of history; andthe Oxford Movement, in which the three worked together, was thedirect result, according to Dean Church, of their "searchings ofheart and communing" for seven years, from 1826 to 1833. A word mightbe said of Whately too, whose _Logic_ Newman helped to beat intofinal form in these Oxford experiences. Not since the days of Coletand Erasmus had the University experienced such a shaking of thebranches. However, there is no need to do more than allude to theseintimately dealt with in the _Apologia_ itself. 

There, indeed, the stages of Newman's pilgrimage are related with agrace and sincerity of style that have hardly been equalled inEnglish or in any northern tongue. It ranges from the simplest factsto the most complicated polemical issues and is always easily inaccord with its changing theme. So much so, that the criticsthemselves have not known whether to admire more the spiritual logicof the literary art of the writer and self-confessor. We may take, astwo instances of Newman's power, the delightful account in Part III. Of his childhood and the first growth of his religious belief; andthe remarkable opening to Part IV. , where he uses the figure of thedeath-bed with that finer reality which is born of the creativecommunion of thought and word in a poet's brain. Something of thispower was felt, it is clear, in his sermons at Oxford. Dr. Barrydescribes the effect that Newman made at the time of his parting withthe Anglican Church: "Every sermon was an experience;" made memorableby that "still figure, and clear, low, penetrating voice, and themental hush that fell upon his audience while he meditated, alonewith the Alone, in words of awful austerity. His discourses werepoems, but transcripts too from the soul, reasonings in a heavenlydialectic. .. . "

About his controversy with Charles Kingsley, the immediate cause ofhis _Apologia_, what new thing need be said? It is clear thatKingsley, who was the type of a class of mind then common enough inhis Church, impulsive, prejudiced, not logical, gave himself awayboth by the mode and by the burden of his unfortunate attack. But weneed not complain of it to-day, since it called out one of thenoblest pieces of spiritual history the world possesses: one indeedwhich has the unique merit of making only the truth that is intrinsicand devout seem in the end to matter. 

Midway in the forties, as the _Apologia_ tells us, twenty years thatis before it was written, Newman left Oxford and the Anglican Churchfor the Church in which he died. Later portraits make us realise himbest in his robes as a Cardinal, as he may be seen in the NationalPortrait Gallery, or in the striking picture by Millais (now inthe Duke of Norfolk's collection). There is one delightful earlierportrait too, which shows him with a peculiarly radiant face, full ofcharm and serene expectancy; and with it we may associate these linesof his--sincere expression of one who was in all his earthly andheavenly pilgrimage a truth-seeker, heart and soul:

 "When I would search the truths that in me burn, And mould them into rule and argument, A hundred reasoners cried, --'Hast thou to learn Those dreams are scatter'd now, those fires are spent?' And, did I mount to simpler thoughts, and try Some theme of peace, 'twas still the same reply. 

 Perplex'd, I hoped my heart was pure of guile, But judged me weak in wit, to disagree; But now, I see that men are mad awhile, 'Tis the old history--Truth without a home, Despised and slain, then rising from the tomb. "

The following is a list of the chief works of Cardinal Newman:--

The Arians of the Fourth Century, 1833; 29 Tracts to Tracts for theTimes, 1834-1841; Lyra Apostolica, 1834; Elucidations of Dr. Hampden's Theological Statements, 1836; Parochial Sermons, 6 vols. , 1837-1842; A Letter to the Rev. G. Faussett on Certain Points ofFaith and Practice, 1838; Lectures on Justification, 1838; Sermons onSubjects of the Day, 1842; Plain Sermons, 1843; Sermons before theUniversity of Oxford, 1843; The Cistercian Saints of England, 1844;An Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine, 1845; Loss andGain, 1848; Discourse addressed to Mixed Congregations, 1849;Lectures on Certain Difficulties Felt by Anglicans in CatholicTeaching, 1850; Lectures on the Present Position of Catholics inEngland, 1851; The Idea of a University, 1852; Callista, 1856; Mr. Kingsley and Dr. Newman, 1864; Apologia pro Vita Sua, 1864; The Dreamof Gerontius, 1865; Letter to the Rev. E. B. Pusey on his Eirenicon, 1866; Verses on Various Occasions, 1868; An Essay in Aid of a Grammarof Assent, 1870; Letter addressed to His Grace the Duke of Norfolk onOccasion of Mr. Gladstone's Expostulation, 1875; Meditations andDevotions, 1893. 

Biographies. --By W. Meynell, 1890; by Dr. Wm Barry, 1890; by R. H. Hutton, 1891; Letters and Correspondence of J. H. Newman, during hislife in the English Church (with a brief autobiography), edited byMiss Anne Mozley, 1891; Anglican Career of Cardinal Newman, by Rd. E. A. Abbott, 1892; as a Musician, by E. Bellasis, 1892; by A. R. Wallerand G. H. S. Burrow, 1901; an Appreciation, by Dr. A. Whyte, 1901;Addresses to Cardinal Newman, with his Replies, edited by Rev. W. P. Neville, 1905; by W. Ward (in Ten Personal Studies), 1908; Newman'sTheology, by Charles Sarolea, 1908; The Authoritative Biography, byWilfrid P. Ward (based on Cardinal Newman's private journals andcorrespondence), 1912. 

CONTENTS

 PART PAGE I. Mr. Kingsley's Method of Disputation 1 II. True Mode of Meeting Mr. Kingsley 15 III. History of My Religious Opinions up to 1833 29 IV. History of My Religious Opinions from 1833 to 1839 57 V. History of My Religious Opinions from 1839 to 1841 101 VI. History of My Religious Opinions from 1841 to 1845 147 VII. General Answer to Mr. Kingsley 215 APPENDIX: Answer in Detail to Mr. Kingsley's Accusations 253

APOLOGIA PRO VITA SUA

Part I

Mr. Kingsley's Method of Disputation

I cannot be sorry to have forced Mr. Kingsley to bring out infulness his charges against me. It is far better that he shoulddischarge his thoughts upon me in my lifetime, than after I am dead. Under the circumstances I am happy in having the opportunity ofreading the worst that can be said of me by a writer who has takenpains with his work and is well satisfied with it. I account it again to be surveyed from without by one who hates the principleswhich are nearest to my heart, has no personal knowledge of me to setright his misconceptions of my doctrine, and who has some motive orother to be as severe with me as he can possibly be. 

And first of all, I beg to compliment him on the motto in histitle-page; it is felicitous. A motto should contain, as in anutshell, the contents, or the character, or the drift, or the_animus_ of the writing to which it is prefixed. The words which hehas taken from me are so apposite as to be almost prophetical. Therecannot be a better illustration than he thereby affords of theaphorism which I intended them to convey. I said that it is not morethan an hyperbolical expression to say that in certain cases alie is the nearest approach to truth. Mr. Kingsley's pamphletis emphatically one of such cases as are contemplated in thatproposition. I really believe, that his view of me is about as nearan approach to the truth about my writings and doings, as he iscapable of taking. He has done his worst towards me; but he has alsodone his best. So far well; but, while I impute to him no malice, Iunfeignedly think, on the other hand, that, in his invective againstme, he as faithfully fulfils the other half of the proposition also. 

This is not a mere sharp retort upon Mr. Kingsley, as will be seen, when I come to consider directly the subject to which the words ofhis motto relate. I have enlarged on that subject in various passagesof my publications; I have said that minds in different states andcircumstances cannot understand one another, and that in all casesthey must be instructed according to their capacity, and, if nottaught step by step, they learn only so much the less; that childrendo not apprehend the thoughts of grown people, nor savages theinstincts of civilization, nor blind men the perceptions of sight, nor pagans the doctrines of Christianity, nor men the experiences ofAngels. In the same way, there are people of matter-of-fact, prosaicminds, who cannot take in the fancies of poets; and others ofshallow, inaccurate minds, who cannot take in the ideas ofphilosophical inquirers. In a lecture of mine I have illustratedthis phenomenon by the supposed instance of a foreigner, who, afterreading a commentary on the principles of English Law, does notget nearer to a real apprehension of them than to be led to accuseEnglishmen of considering that the queen is impeccable andinfallible, and that the Parliament is omnipotent. Mr. Kingsleyhas read me from beginning to end in the fashion in which thehypothetical Russian read Blackstone; not, I repeat, from malice, butbecause of his intellectual build. He appears to be so constituted asto have no notion of what goes on in minds very different from hisown, and moreover to be stone-blind to his ignorance. A modest man ora philosopher would have scrupled to treat with scorn and scoffing, as Mr. Kingsley does in my own instance, principles and convictions, even if he did not acquiesce in them himself, which had been held sowidely and for so long--the beliefs and devotions and customs whichhave been the religious life of millions upon millions of Christiansfor nearly twenty centuries--for this in fact is the task on which heis spending his pains. Had he been a man of large or cautious mind, he would not have taken it for granted that cultivation must leadevery one to see things precisely as he sees them himself. But thenarrow-minded are the more prejudiced by very reason of theirnarrowness. The apostle bids us "in malice be children, but inunderstanding be men. " I am glad to recognise in Mr. Kingsley anillustration of the first half of this precept; but I should not behonest, if I ascribed to him any sort of fulfilment of the second. 

I wish I could speak as favourably either of his drift or of hismethod of arguing, as I can of his convictions. As to his drift, Ithink its ultimate point is an attack upon the Catholic Religion. Itis I indeed, whom he is immediately insulting--still, he views meonly as a representative, and on the whole a fair one, of a class orcaste of men, to whom, conscious as I am of my own integrity, Iascribe an excellence superior to mine. He desires to impress uponthe public mind the conviction that I am a crafty, scheming man, simply untrustworthy; that, in becoming a Catholic, I have just foundmy right place; that I do but justify and am properly interpreted bythe common English notion of Roman casuists and confessors; that Iwas secretly a Catholic when I was openly professing to be aclergyman of the Established Church; that so far from bringing, bymeans of my conversion, when at length it openly took place, anystrength to the Catholic cause, I am really a burden to it--anadditional evidence of the fact, that to be a pure, german, genuineCatholic, a man must be either a knave or a fool. 

These last words bring me to Mr. Kingsley's method of disputation, which I must criticise with much severity;--in his drift he does butfollow the ordinary beat of controversy, but in his mode of arguinghe is actually dishonest. 

He says that I am either a knave or a fool, and (as we shall see byand by) he is not quite sure which, probably both. He tells hisreaders that on one occasion he said that he had fears I should "endin one or other of two misfortunes. " "He would either, " he continues, "destroy his own sense of honesty, _i. E. _ conscious truthfulness--andbecome a dishonest person; or he would destroy his common sense, _i. E. _ unconscious truthfulness, and become the slave and puppetseemingly of his own logic, really of his own fancy. .. . I thought foryears past that he had become the former; I now see that he hasbecome the latter. " (p. 20). Again, "When I read these outrages uponcommon sense, what wonder if I said to myself, 'This man cannotbelieve what he is saying?'" (p. 26). Such has been Mr. Kingsley'sstate of mind till lately, but now he considers that I am possessedwith a spirit of "almost boundless silliness, " of "simplecredulity, the child of scepticism, " of "absurdity" (p. 41), of a"self-deception which has become a sort of frantic honesty" (p. 26). And as to his fundamental reason for this change, he tells us, hereally does not know what it is (p. 44). However, let the reason bewhat it will, its upshot is intelligible enough. He is enabled atonce, by this professed change of judgment about me, to put forwardone of these alternatives, yet to keep the other in reserve;--andthis he actually does. He need not commit himself to a definiteaccusation against me, such as requires definite proof and admits ofdefinite refutation; for he has two strings to his bow;--when he isthrown off his balance on the one leg, he can recover himself by theuse of the other. If I demonstrate that I am not a knave, he mayexclaim, "Oh, but you are a fool!" and when I demonstrate that I amnot a fool, he may turn round and retort, "Well, then, you are aknave. " I have no objection to reply to his arguments in behalf ofeither alternative, but I should have been better pleased to havebeen allowed to take them one at a time. 

But I have not yet done full justice to the method of disputation, which Mr. Kingsley thinks it right to adopt. Observe this first:--Hemeans by a man who is "silly" not a man who is to be pitied, but aman who is to be _abhorred_. He means a man who is not simply weakand incapable, but a moral leper; a man who, if not a knave, haseverything bad about him except knavery; nay, rather, has togetherwith every other worst vice, a spice of knavery to boot. _His_simpleton is one who has become such, in judgment for his having oncebeen a knave. _His_ simpleton is not a born fool, but a self-madeidiot, one who has drugged and abused himself into a shamelessdepravity; one, who, without any misgiving or remorse, is guilty ofdrivelling superstition, of reckless violation of sacred things, offanatical excesses, of passionate inanities, of unmanly audacioustyranny over the weak, meriting the wrath of fathers and brothers. This is that milder judgment, which he seems to pride himself upon asso much charity; and, as he expresses it, he "does not know" why. This is what he really meant in his letter to me of January 14, whenhe withdrew his charge of my being dishonest. He said, "The _tone_ ofyour letters, even more than their language, makes me feel, _to myvery deep pleasure_, "--what? that you have gambled away your reason, that you are an intellectual sot, that you are a fool in a frenzy. And in his pamphlet, he gives us this explanation why he did not saythis to my face, viz. That he had been told that I was "in weakhealth, " and was "averse to controversy, " (pp. 6 and 8). He "feltsome regret for having disturbed me. "

But I pass on from these multiform imputations, and confine myself tothis one consideration, viz. That he has made any fresh imputationupon me at all. He gave up the charge of knavery; well and good: butwhere was the logical necessity of his bringing another? I am sittingat home without a thought of Mr. Kingsley; he wantonly breaks in uponme with the charge that I had "_informed_" the world "that Truth forits own sake _need not_ and on the whole _ought not to be_ a virtuewith the Roman clergy. " When challenged on the point he cannot bringa fragment of evidence in proof of his assertion, and he is convictedof false witness by the voice of the world. Well, I should havethought that he had now nothing whatever more to do. "Vain man!" heseems to make answer, "what simplicity in you to think so! If youhave not broken one commandment, let us see whether we cannot convictyou of the breach of another. If you are not a swindler or forger, you are guilty of arson or burglary. By hook or by crook you shallnot escape. Are _you_ to suffer or _I_? What does it matter to youwho are going off the stage, to receive a slight additional daubupon a character so deeply stained already? But think of me, theimmaculate lover of Truth, so observant (as I have told you p. 8) of'_hault courage_ and strict honour, '--and (_aside_)--'and not as thispublican'--do you think I can let you go scot free instead of myself?No; _noblesse oblige_. Go to the shades, old man, and boast thatAchilles sent you thither. "

But I have not even yet done with Mr. Kingsley's method ofdisputation. Observe secondly:--when a man is said to be a knave or afool, it is commonly meant that he is _either_ the one _or_ theother; and that, --either in the sense that the hypothesis of hisbeing a fool is too absurd to be entertained; or, again, as a sort ofcontemptuous acquittal of one, who after all has not wit enough to bewicked. But this is not at all what Mr. Kingsley proposes to himselfin the antithesis which he suggests to his readers. Though he speaksof me as an utter dotard and fanatic, yet all along, from thebeginning of his pamphlet to the end, he insinuates, he proves frommy writings, and at length in his last pages he openly pronounces, that after all he was right at first, in thinking me a conscious liarand deceiver. 

Now I wish to dwell on this point. It cannot be doubted, I say, that, in spite of his professing to consider me as a dotard and driveller, on the ground of his having given up the notion of my being a knave, yet it is the very staple of his pamphlet that a knave after all Imust be. By insinuation, or by implication, or by question, or byirony, or by sneer, or by parable, he enforces again and again aconclusion which he does not categorically enunciate. 

For instance (1) P. 14. "I know that men _used to suspect Dr. Newman_, I have been inclined to do so myself, of writing a wholesermon . .. For the sake of one single passing hint, one phrase, oneepithet, one little barbed arrow which . .. He delivered unheeded, aswith his finger tip, to the very heart of an initiated hearer, _neverto be withdrawn again_. "

(2) P. 15. "How _was_ I to know that the preacher, who had thereputation of being the most _acute_ man of his generation, and ofhaving a specially intimate acquaintance with the weaknesses of thehuman heart, was utterly blind to the broad meaning and the plainpractical result of a sermon like this, delivered before fanatic andhot-headed young men, who hung upon his every word? That he did not_foresee_ that they would think that they obeyed him, _by becomingaffected, artificial, sly, shifty, ready for concealments andequivocations_?"

(3) P. 17. "No one _would have_ suspected him to be a dishonest man, if he had not perversely chosen _to assume a style_ which (as hehimself confesses) the world always associates with dishonesty. "

(4) Pp. 29, 30. "_If_ he will indulge in subtle paradoxes, inrhetorical exaggerations; if, _whenever he touches on the question oftruth and honesty_, he will take a perverse pleasure in sayingsomething shocking to plain English notions, he _must take theconsequences of his own eccentricities_. "

(5) P. 34. "At which most of my readers will be inclined to cry: 'LetDr. Newman alone, after that. .. . He had a human reason once, nodoubt: but he has gambled it away. ' . .. True: so true, etc. "

(6) P. 34. He continues: "I should never have written these pages, save because it was my duty to show the world, if not Dr. Newman, howthe mistake (!) of his _not caring_ for truth _arose_. "

(7) P. 37. "And this is the man, who when accused of countenancingfalsehood, puts on first a tone of _plaintive_ (!) and startledinnocence, and then one of smug self-satisfaction--as who should ask, 'What have I said? What have I done? Why am I on my trial?'"

(8) P. 40. "What Dr. Newman teaches is clear at last, and _I see nowhow deeply I have wronged him_. So far from thinking truth for itsown sake to be no virtue, _he considers it a virtue so lofty as to beunattainable by man_. "

(9) P. 43. "There is no use in wasting words on this 'economical'statement of Dr. Newman's. I shall only say that there are people inthe world whom it is very difficult to _help_. As soon as they aregot out of one scrape, they walk straight into another. "

(10) P. 43. "Dr. Newman has shown 'wisdom' enough of that_serpentine_ type which is his professed ideal. .. . Yes, Dr. Newman isa very economical person. "

(11) P. 44. "Dr. Newman _tries_, by _cunning sleight-of-hand logic_, to prove that I did not believe the accusation when I made it. "

(12) P. 45. "These are hard words. If Dr. Newman shall complain ofthem, I can only remind him of the fate which befel the stork caughtamong the cranes, _even though_ the stork had _not_ done all he couldto make himself like a crane, _as Dr. Newman has_, by 'economising'on the very title-page of his pamphlet. "

These last words bring us to another and far worse instance of theseslanderous assaults upon me, but its place is in a subsequent page. 

Now it may be asked of me, "Well, why should not Mr. Kingsley take acourse such as this? It was his original assertion that Dr. Newmanwas a professed liar, and a patron of lies; he spoke somewhat atrandom, granted; but now he has got up his references and he isproving, not perhaps the very thing which he said at first, butsomething very like it, and to say the least quite as bad. He is nowonly aiming to justify morally his original assertion; why is he notat liberty to do so?"

_Why_ should he _not_ now insinuate that I am a liar and a knave! hehad of course a perfect right to make such a charge, if he chose; hemight have said, "I was virtually right, and here is the proof ofit, " but this he has not done, but on the contrary has professed thathe no longer draws from my works, as he did before, the inference ofmy dishonesty. He says distinctly, p. 26, "When I read these outragesupon common sense, what wonder if I said to myself, 'This man cannotbelieve what he is saying?' _I believe I was wrong_. " And in p. 31, "I said, This man has no real care for truth. Truth for its own sakeis no virtue in his eyes, and he teaches that it need not be. _I donot say that now_. " And in p. 41, "I do not call this consciousdishonesty; the man who wrote that sermon _was already past thepossibility_ of such a sin. "

_Why_ should he _not_! because it is on the ground of my not being aknave that he calls me a fool; adding to the words just quoted, "[Myreaders] have fallen perhaps into the prevailing superstition thatcleverness is synonymous with wisdom. They cannot believe that (as istoo certain) great literary and even barristerial ability mayco-exist with almost boundless silliness. "

_Why_ should he _not_! because he has taken credit to himself forthat high feeling of honour which refuses to withdraw a concessionwhich once has been made; though (wonderful to say!), at the verytime that he is recording this magnanimous resolution, he lets it outof the bag that his relinquishment of it is only a profession and apretence; for he says, p. 8: "I have accepted Dr. Newman's denialthat [the Sermon] means what I thought it did; and _heaven forbid_"(oh!) "that I should withdraw my word once given, _at whateverdisadvantage to myself_. " Disadvantage! but nothing can beadvantageous to him which is _untrue_; therefore in proclaiming thatthe concession of my honesty is a disadvantage to him, he therebyimplies unequivocally that there is some probability still, that I am_dis_honest. He goes on, "I am informed by those from whose judgmenton such points there is no appeal, that '_en hault courage_, ' andstrict honour, I am also _precluded_, by the _terms_ of myexplanation, from using any other of Dr. Newman's past writings toprove my assertion. " And then, "I have declared Dr. Newman to havebeen an honest man up to the 1st of February, 1864; it was, as Ishall show, only Dr. Newman's fault that I ever thought him to beanything else. It depends entirely on Dr. Newman whether he shall_sustain_ the reputation which he has so recently acquired, " (bydiploma of course from Mr. Kingsley. ) "If I give him thereby a freshadvantage in this argument, he is _most welcome_ to it. He needs, itseems to me, _as many advantages as possible_. "

What a princely mind! How loyal to his rash promise, how delicatetowards the subject of it, how conscientious in his interpretation ofit! I have no thought of irreverence towards a Scripture Saint, whowas actuated by a very different spirit from Mr. Kingsley's, butsomehow since I read his pamphlet words have been running in my head, which I find in the Douay version thus; "Thou hast also with theeSemei the son of Gera, who cursed me with a grievous curse when Iwent to the camp, but I swore to him, saying, I will not kill theewith the sword. Do not thou hold him guiltless. But thou art a wiseman and knowest what to do with him, and thou shalt bring down hisgrey hairs with blood to hell. "

Now I ask, Why could not Mr. Kingsley be open? If he intended stillto arraign me on the charge of lying, why could he not say so as aman? Why must he insinuate, question, imply, and use sneering andirony, as if longing to touch a forbidden fruit, which still he wasafraid would burn his fingers, if he did so? Why must he "palter in adouble sense, " and blow hot and cold in one breath? He first said heconsidered me a patron of lying; well, he changed his opinion; and asto the logical ground of this change, he said that, if any one askedhim what it was, he could only answer that _he really did not know_. Why could not he change back again, and say he did not know why? Hehad quite a right to do so; and then his conduct would have been sofar straightforward and unexceptionable. But no;--in the very act ofprofessing to believe in my sincerity, he takes care to show theworld that it is a profession and nothing more. That very proceedingwhich at p. 15 he lays to my charge (whereas I detest it), of avowingone thing and thinking another, that proceeding he here exemplifieshimself; and yet, while indulging in practices as offensive as this, he ventures to speak of his sensitive admiration of "hault courageand strict honour!" "I forgive you, Sir Knight, " says the heroine inthe Romance, "I forgive you as a Christian. " "That means, " saidWamba, "that she does not forgive him at all. " Mr. Kingsley's word ofhonour is about as valuable as in the jester's opinion was theChristian charity of Rowena. But here we are brought to a furtherspecimen of Mr. Kingsley's method of disputation, and having dulyexhibited it, I shall have done with him. 

It is his last, and he has intentionally reserved it for his last. Let it be recollected that he professed to absolve me from hisoriginal charge of dishonesty up to February 1. And further, heimplies that, _at the time when he was writing_, I had not _yet_involved myself in any fresh acts suggestive of that sin. He saysthat I have had a great _escape_ of conviction, that he hopes I shalltake warning, and act more cautiously. "It depends entirely, " hesays, "on _Dr. Newman, whether_ he shall _sustain_ the reputationwhich he has so recently acquired" (p. 8). Thus, in Mr. Kingsley'sjudgment, I was _then_, when he wrote these words, _still_ innocentof dishonesty, for a man cannot sustain what he actually has not got;_only he could not be sure of my future_. Could not be sure! Why atthis very time he had already noted down valid proofs, as he thoughtthem, that I _had_ already forfeited the character which hecontemptuously accorded to me. He had cautiously said "_up to_February 1st, " _in order_ to reserve the title-page and last threepages of my pamphlet, which were not published till February 12th, and out of these four pages, which he had _not_ whitewashed, he had_already_ forged charges against me of dishonesty at the very timethat he implied that as yet there was nothing against me. When hegave me that plenary condonation, as it seemed to be, he had alreadydone his best that I should never enjoy it. He knew well at p. 8, what he meant to say at pp. 44 and 45. At best indeed I was only outupon ticket of leave; but that ticket was a pretence; he had madeit forfeit when he gave it. But he did not say so at once, first, because between p. 8 and p. 44 he meant to talk a great deal about myidiotcy and my frenzy, which would have been simply out of place, hadhe proved me too soon to be a knave again; and next, because he meantto exhaust all those insinuations about my knavery in the past, which"strict honour" did not permit him to countenance, in order therebyto give colour and force to his direct charges of knavery in thepresent, which "strict honour" _did_ permit him to handsel. So in thefifth act he gave a start, and found to his horror that, in mymiserable four pages, I had committed the "enormity" of an "economy, "which in matter of fact he had got by heart before he began the play. Nay, he suddenly found two, three, and (for what he knew) as many asfour profligate economies in that title-page and those Reflections, and he uses the language of distress and perplexity at this appallingdiscovery. 

Now why this _coup de théâtre_? The reason soon breaks on us. Up toFebruary 1, he could not categorically arraign me for lying, andtherefore could not involve me (as was so necessary for his case), inthe popular abhorrence which is felt for the casuists of Rome: but, as soon as ever he could openly and directly pronounce (saving his"hault courage and strict honour") that I am guilty of three or fournew economies, then at once I am made to bear, not only my own sins, but the sins of other people also, and, though I have been condonedthe knavery of my antecedents, I am guilty of the knavery of a wholepriesthood instead. So the hour of doom for Semei is come, and thewise man knows what to do with him;--he is down upon me with theodious names of "St. Alfonso da Liguori, " and "Scavini" and"Neyraguet, " and "the Romish moralists, " and their "compeers andpupils, " and I am at once merged and whirled away in the gulph ofnotorious quibblers, and hypocrites, and rogues. 

But we have not even yet got at the real object of the stroke, thusreserved for his _finale_. I really feel sad for what I am obligednow to say. I am in warfare with him, but I wish him no ill;--it isvery difficult to get up resentment towards persons whom one hasnever 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 whathe has said of me, I am not conscious of personal unkindness towardshimself. I think it necessary to write as I am writing, for my ownsake, and for the sake of the Catholic priesthood; but I wish toimpute nothing worse to Kingsley than that he has been furiouslycarried away by his feelings. But what shall I say of the upshot ofall this talk of my economies and equivocations and the like? What isthe precise _work_ which it is directed to effect? I am at war withhim; but there is such a thing as legitimate warfare: war has itslaws; there are things which may fairly be done, and things which maynot be done. I say it with shame and with stern sorrow;--he hasattempted a great transgression; he has attempted (as I may call it)to _poison the wells_. I will quote him and explain what I mean. 

"Dr. Newman tries, by cunning sleight-of-hand logic, to prove that Idid not believe the accusation when I made it. Therein he ismistaken. I did believe it, and I believed also his indignant denial. But when he goes on to ask with sneers, why I should believe hisdenial, if I did not consider him trustworthy in the first instance?I can only answer, I really do not know. There is a _great deal_ tobe said for _that_ view, _now that_ Dr. Newman has become (one mustneeds suppose) _suddenly_ and _since_ the 1st of February, 1864, aconvert to the _economic_ views of St. Alfonso da Liguori and hiscompeers. I am _henceforth_ in doubt and _fear_, as much as anyhonest man can be, _concerning every word_ Dr. Newman may write. _Howcan I tell that I shall not be the dupe of some cunningequivocation_, of one of the three kinds laid down as permissible bythe blessed Alfonso da Liguori and his pupils, even when confirmed byan oath, because 'then we do not deceive our neighbour, but allow himto deceive himself?' . .. It is admissible, therefore, to use wordsand sentences which have a double signification, and leave thehapless hearer to take which of them he may choose. _What proof haveI, then, that by 'mean it? I never said it!' Dr. Newman does notsignify_, I did not say it, but I did mean it?"--Pp. 44, 45. 

Now these insinuations and questions shall be answered in theirproper places; here I will but say that I scorn and detest lying, andquibbling, and double-tongued practice, and slyness, and cunning, andsmoothness, and cant, and pretence, quite as much as any Protestantshate them; and I pray to be kept from the snare of them. But all thisis just now by the bye; my present subject is Mr. Kingsley; what Iinsist upon here, now that I am bringing this portion of mydiscussion to a close, is this unmanly attempt of his, in hisconcluding pages, to cut the ground from under my feet;--to poison byanticipation the public mind against me, John Henry Newman, and toinfuse into the imaginations of my readers, suspicion and mistrust ofeverything that I may say in reply to him. This I call _poisoning thewells_. 

"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 cunningequivocation?_ . .. What proof have I, that by 'mean it? I never saidit!' Dr. Newman does not signify, 'I did not say it, but I did meanit'?"

Well, I can only say, that, if his taunt is to take effect, I am butwasting my time in saying a word in answer to his foul calumnies; andthis is precisely what he knows and intends to be its fruit. I canhardly get myself to protest against a method of controversy so baseand cruel, lest in doing so, I should be violating my self-respectand self-possession; but most base and most cruel it is. We all knowhow our imagination runs away with us, how suddenly and at what apace;--the saying, "Caesar's wife should not be suspected, " is aninstance of what I mean. The habitual prejudice, the humour of themoment, is the turning-point which leads us to read a defence in agood sense or a bad. We interpret it by our antecedent impressions. The very same sentiments, according as our jealousy is or is notawake, or our aversion stimulated, are tokens of truth or ofdissimulation and pretence. There is a story of a sane person beingby mistake shut up in the wards of a lunatic asylum, and that, whenhe 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 bedecided by the reason; is it legitimate warfare to appeal to themisgivings of the public mind and to its dislikings? Anyhow, ifMr. Kingsley is able thus to practise upon my readers, the more Isucceed, the less will be my success. If I am natural, he will tellthem, "Ars est celare artem;" if I am convincing, he will suggestthat I am an able logician; if I show warmth, I am acting theindignant innocent; if I am calm, I am thereby detected as a smoothhypocrite; if I clear up difficulties, I am too plausible and perfectto be true. The more triumphant are my statements, the more certainwill be my defeat. 

So will it be if Mr. Kingsley succeeds in his manoeuvre; but I donot for an instant believe that he will. Whatever judgment my readersmay eventually form of me from these pages, I am confident that theywill believe me in what I shall say in the course of them. I have nomisgiving it all, that they will be ungenerous or harsh with a manwho has been so long before the eyes of the world; who has so many tospeak of him from personal knowledge; whose natural impulse it hasever been to speak out; who has ever spoken too much rather than toolittle; who would have saved himself many a scrape, if he had beenwise enough to hold his tongue; who has ever been fair to thedoctrines and arguments of his opponents; who has never slurred overfacts and reasonings which told against himself; who has never givenhis name or authority to proofs which he thought unsound, or totestimony which he did not think at least plausible; who has nevershrunk from confessing a fault when he felt that he had committedone; who has ever consulted for others more than for himself; who hasgiven up much that he loved and prized and could have retained, butthat he loved honesty better than name, and truth better than dearfriends. 

And now I am in a train of thought higher and more serene than anywhich slanders can disturb. Away with you, Mr. Kingsley, and fly intospace. Your name shall occur again as little as I can help, in thecourse of these pages. I shall henceforth occupy myself not with you, but with your charges. 

Part II

True Mode of Meeting Mr. Kingsley

What shall be the special imputation, against which I shall throwmyself in these pages, out of the thousand and one which my accuserdirects upon me? I mean to confine myself to one, for there is onlyone about which I much care--the charge of untruthfulness. He maycast upon me as many other imputations as he pleases, and they maystick on me, as long as they can, in the course of nature. They willfall to the ground in their season. 

And indeed I think the same of the charge of untruthfulness, and Iselect it from the rest, not because it is more formidable, butbecause it is more serious. Like the rest, it may disfigure me for atime, but it will not stain: Archbishop Whately used to say, "Throwdirt enough, and some will stick;" well, will stick, but not stain. Ithink he used to mean "stain, " and I do not agree with him. Some dirtsticks longer than other dirt; but no dirt is immortal. According tothe old saying, Prævalebit Veritas. There are virtues indeed, whichthe world is not fitted to judge about or to uphold, such as faith, hope, and charity: but it can judge about truthfulness; it can judgeabout the natural virtues, and truthfulness is one of them. Naturalvirtues may also become supernatural; truthfulness is such; but thatdoes not withdraw it from the jurisdiction of mankind at large. Itmay be more difficult in this or that particular case for men to takecognizance of it, as it may be difficult for the Court of Queen'sBench at Westminster to try a case fairly which took place inHindoostan; but that is a question of capacity, not of right. Mankindhas the right to judge of truthfulness in the case of a Catholic, asin the case of a Protestant, of an Italian, or of a Chinese. I havenever doubted, that in my hour, in God's hour, my avenger willappear, and the world will acquit me of untruthfulness, even thoughit be not while I live. 

Still more confident am I of such eventual acquittal, seeing that myjudges are my own countrymen. I think, indeed, Englishmen the mostsuspicious and touchy of mankind; I think them unreasonable andunjust in their seasons of excitement; but I had rather be anEnglishman (as in fact I am) than belong to any other race underheaven. They are as generous, as they are hasty and burly; and theirrepentance for their injustice is greater than their sin. 

For twenty years and more I have borne an imputation, of which I amat least as sensitive, who am the object of it, as they can be, whoare only the judges. I have not set myself to remove it, first, because I never have had an opening to speak, and, next, because Inever saw in them the disposition to hear. I have wished to appealfrom Philip drunk to Philip sober. When shall I pronounce him to behimself again? If I may judge from the tone of the public press, which represents the public voice, I have great reason to take heartat this time. I have been treated by contemporary critics in thiscontroversy with great fairness and gentleness, and I am grateful tothem for it. However, the decision of the time and mode of my defencehas been taken out of my hands; and I am thankful that it has beenso. I am bound now as a duty to myself, to the Catholic cause, to theCatholic priesthood, to give account of myself without any delay, when I am so rudely and circumstantially charged with untruthfulness. I accept the challenge; I shall do my best to meet it, and I shall becontent when I have done so. 

I confine myself then, in these pages, to the charge ofuntruthfulness; and I hereby cart away, as so much rubbish, theimpertinences, with which the pamphlet of Accusation swarms. I shallnot think it necessary here to examine, whether I am "worked into apitch of confusion, " or have "carried self-deception to perfection, "or am "anxious to show my credulity, " or am "in a morbid state ofmind, " or "hunger for nonsense as my food, " or "indulge in subtleparadoxes" and "rhetorical exaggerations, " or have "eccentricities"or teach in a style "utterly beyond" my accuser's "comprehension, " orcreate in him "blank astonishment, " or "exalt the magical powers ofmy Church, " or have "unconsciously committed myself to a statementwhich strikes at the root of all morality, " or "look down on theProtestant gentry as without hope of heaven, " or "had better be sentto the furthest" Catholic "mission among the savages of the Southseas, " than "to teach in an Irish Catholic University, " or have"gambled away my reason, " or adopt "sophistries, " or have published"sophisms piled upon sophisms, " or have in my sermons "culminatingwonders, " or have a "seemingly sceptical method, " or have"barristerial ability" and "almost boundless silliness, " or "makegreat mistakes, " or am "a subtle dialectician, " or perhaps have "lostmy temper, " or "misquote Scripture, " or am "antiscriptural, " or"border very closely on the Pelagian heresy. "--Pp. 5, 7, 26, 29-34, 37, 38, 41, 43, 44, 48. 

These all are impertinences; and the list is so long that I am almostsorry to have given them room which might be better used. However, there they are, or at least a portion of them; and having noticedthem thus much, I shall notice them no more. 

Coming then to the subject, which is to furnish the staple of mypublication, the question of my truthfulness, I first directattention to the passage which the Act of Accusation contains at p. 8and p. 42. I shall give my reason presently, why I begin with it. 

My accuser is speaking of my sermon on Wisdom and Innocence, and hesays, "It must be _remembered always_ that it is not a Protestant, but a Romish sermon. "--P. 8. 

Then at p. 42 he continues, "Dr. Newman does not apply to it thatepithet. He called it in his letter to me of the 7th of January(published by him) a 'Protestant' one. I remarked that, butconsidered it a mere slip of the pen. Besides, I have now nothing tosay to that letter. It is to his 'Reflections, ' in p. 32, which areopen ground to me, that I refer. In them he deliberately repeats theepithet 'Protestant:' only he, in an utterly imaginary conversation, puts it into my mouth, 'which you preached when a Protestant. ' I callthe man who preached that Sermon a Protestant? I should have soonercalled him a Buddhist. _At that very time he was teaching hisdisciples to scorn_ and repudiate that name of Protestant, underwhich, for some reason or other, he _now finds it convenient to takeshelter_. If _he_ forgets, the world does not, the famous article inthe _British Critic_ (the then organ of his party), of three yearsbefore, July 1841, which, after denouncing the name of Protestant, declared the object of the party to be none other than the'_unprotestantising_' the English Church. "

In this passage my accuser asserts or implies, 1, that the sermon, onwhich he originally grounded his slander against me in the JanuaryNo. Of the magazine, was really and in matter of fact a "Romish"Sermon; 2, that I ought in my pamphlet to have acknowledged thisfact; 3, that I didn't. 4, That I actually called it instead aProtestant Sermon. 5, That at the time when I published it, twentyyears ago, I should have denied that it was a Protestant sermon. 6, By consequence, I should in that denial have avowed that it was a"Romish" Sermon; 7, and therefore, not only, when I was in theEstablished Church, was I guilty of the dishonesty of preaching whatat the time I knew to be a "Romish" Sermon, but now too, in 1864, Ihave committed the additional dishonesty of calling it a Protestantsermon. If my accuser does not mean this, I submit to such reparationas I owe him for my mistake, but I cannot make out that he meansanything else. 

Here are two main points to be considered; 1, I in 1864 have calledit a Protestant Sermon. 2, He in 1844 and now has styled it a PopishSermon. Let me take these two points separately. 

1. Certainly, when I was in the English Church, I _did_ disown theword "Protestant, " and that, even at an earlier date than my accusernames; but just let us see whether this fact is anything at all tothe purpose of his accusation. Last January 7th I spoke to thiseffect: "How can you prove that _Father_ Newman informs us of acertain thing about the Roman Clergy, " by referring to a _Protestant_sermon of the Vicar of St. Mary's? My accuser answers me thus:"There's a quibble! why, _Protestant_ is _not_ the word which youwould have used when at St. Mary's, and yet you use it now!" Verytrue; I do; but what on earth does this matter to my _argument_? howdoes this word "Protestant, " which I used, tend in any degree to makemy argument a quibble? What word _should_ I have used twenty yearsago instead of "Protestant?" "Roman" or "Romish?" by no manner ofmeans. 

My accuser indeed says that "it must always be remembered that it isnot a Protestant _but_ a Romish sermon. " He implies, and, I suppose, he thinks, that not to be a Protestant is to be a Roman; he may sayso, if he pleases, but so did not say that large body who have beencalled by the name of Tractarians, as all the world knows. Themovement proceeded on the very basis of denying that position whichmy accuser takes for granted that I allowed. It ever said, and itsays now, that there is something _between_ Protestant and Romish;that there is a "Via Media" which is neither the one nor the other. Had I been asked twenty years ago, what the doctrine of theEstablished Church was, I should have answered, "Neither Romish _nor_Protestant, _but_ 'Anglican' or 'Anglo-catholic. '" I should neverhave granted that the sermon was Romish; I should have denied, andthat with an internal denial, quite as much as I do now, that it wasa Roman or Romish sermon. Well then, substitute the word "Anglican"or "Anglo-catholic" for "Protestant" in my question, and see if theargument is a bit the worse for it--thus: "How can you prove that_Father_ Newman informs us a certain thing about the Roman Clergy, byreferring to an _Anglican_ or _Anglo-catholic_ Sermon of the Vicar ofSt. Mary's?" The cogency of the argument remains just where it was. What have I gained in the argument, what has he lost, by my havingsaid, not "an Anglican Sermon, " but "a Protestant Sermon?" What dustthen is he throwing into our eyes!

For instance: in 1844 I lived at Littlemore; two or three milesdistant from Oxford; and Littlemore lies in three, perhaps in four, distinct parishes, so that of particular houses it is difficult tosay, whether they are in St. Mary's, Oxford, or in Cowley, or inIffley, or in Sandford, the line of demarcation running even throughthem. Now, supposing I were to say in 1864, that "twenty years ago Idid not live in Oxford, _because_ I lived out at Littlemore, in theparish of Cowley;" and if upon this there were letters of mineproduced dated Littlemore, 1844, in one of which I said that "Ilived, not in Cowley, but at Littlemore, in St. Mary's parish, " howwould that prove that I contradicted myself, and that therefore afterall I must be supposed to have been living in Oxford in 1844? Theutmost that would be proved by the discrepancy, such as it was, would be, that there was some confusion either in me, or in the stateof the fact as to the limits of the parishes. There would be noconfusion about the place or spot of my residence. I should be sayingin 1864, "I did not live in Oxford twenty years ago, because I livedat Littlemore in the Parish of Cowley. " I should have been sayingin 1844, "I do not live in Oxford, because I live in St. Mary's, Littlemore. " In either case I should be saying that my _habitat_ in1844 was _not_ Oxford, but Littlemore; and I should be giving thesame reason for it. I should be proving an _alibi_. I should benaming the same place for the _alibi_; but twenty years ago I shouldhave spoken of it as St. Mary's, Littlemore, and to-day I should havespoken of it as Littlemore in the Parish of Cowley. 

And so as to my Sermon; in January, 1864, I called it a _Protestant_sermon, and not a Roman; but in 1844 I should, if asked, have calledit an _Anglican_ sermon, and not a Roman. In both cases I should havedenied that it was Roman, and that on the ground of its beingsomething else; though I should have called that something else, thenby one name, now by another. The doctrine of the _Via Media_ is a_fact_, whatever name we give to it; I, as a Roman Priest, find itmore natural and usual to call it Protestant: I, as all Oxford Vicar, thought it more exact to call it Anglican; but, whatever I thencalled it, and whatever I now call it, I mean one and the same objectby my name, and therefore not another object--viz. Not the RomanChurch. The argument, I repeat, is sound, whether the _Via Media_ andthe Vicar of St. Mary's be called Anglican or Protestant. 

This is a specimen of what my accuser means by my "economies;" nay, it is actually one of those special two, three, or four, committedafter February 1, which he thinks sufficient to connect me with theshifty casuists and the double-dealing moralists, as he considersthem, of the Catholic Church. What a "Much ado about nothing!"

2. But, whether or not he can prove that I in 1864 have committed anylogical fault in calling my Sermon on Wisdom and Innocence aProtestant Sermon, he is and has been all along, most firm in thebelief himself that a Romish sermon it is; and this is the point onwhich I wish specially to insist. It is for this cause that I madethe above extract from his pamphlet, not merely in order to answerhim, though, when I had made it, I could not pass by the attack on mewhich it contains. I shall notice his charges one by one by and by;but I have made this extract here in order to insist and to dwell onthis phenomenon--viz. That he does consider it an undeniable fact, that the sermon is "Romish, "--meaning by "Romish" not "savouring ofRomish doctrine" merely, but "the work of a real Romanist, of aconscious Romanist. " This belief it is which leads him to be sosevere on me, for now calling it "Protestant. " He thinks that, whether I have committed any logical self-contradiction or not, I amvery well aware that, when I wrote it, I ought to have beenelsewhere, that I was a conscious Romanist, teaching Romanism;--or ifhe does not believe this himself, he wishes others to think so, whichcomes to the same thing; certainly I prefer to consider that hethinks so himself, but, if he likes the other hypothesis better, heis welcome to it. 

He believes then so firmly that the sermon was a "Romish Sermon, "that he pointedly takes it for granted, before he has adduced asyllable of proof of the matter of fact. He _starts_ by saying thatit is a fact to be "remembered. " "It _must_ be _remembered always_, "he says, "that it is not a Protestant, but a Romish Sermon, " (p. 8). Its Romish parentage is a great truth for the memory, not a thesisfor inquiry. Merely to refer his readers to the sermon is, heconsiders, to secure them on his side. Hence it is that, in hisletter of January 18, he said to me, "It seems to me, that, by_referring_ publicly to the Sermon on which my allegations arefounded, I have given every one _an opportunity of judging of theirinjustice_, " that is, an opportunity of seeing that they aretransparently just. The notion of there being a _Via Media_, held allalong by a large party in the Anglican Church, and now at least notless than at any former time, is too subtle for his intellect. Accordingly, he thinks it was an allowable figure of speech--notmore, I suppose, than an "hyperbole"--when referring to a sermon ofthe Vicar of St. Mary's in the magazine, to say that it was thewriting of a Roman priest; and as to serious arguments to prove thepoint, why, they may indeed be necessary, as a matter of form, in anact of accusation, such as his pamphlet, but they are superfluous tothe good sense of any one who will only just look into the matterhimself. 

Now, with respect to the so-called arguments which he ventures to putforward in proof that the sermon is Romish, I shall answer them, together with all his other arguments, in the latter portion of thisreply; here I do but draw the attention of the reader, as I have saidalready, to the phenomenon itself, which he exhibits, of an uncloudedconfidence that the sermon is the writing of a virtual member of theRoman communion, and I do so because it has made a great impressionon my own mind, and has suggested to me the course that I shallpursue in my answer to him. 

I say, he takes it for granted that the Sermon is the writing of avirtual or actual, of a conscious Roman Catholic; and is impatient atthe very notion of having to prove it. Father Newman and the Vicar ofSt. Mary's are one and the same: there has been no change of mind inhim; what he believed then he believes now, and what he believes nowhe believed then. To dispute this is frivolous; to distinguishbetween his past self and his present is subtlety, and to ask forproof of their identity is seeking opportunity to be sophistical. This writer really thinks that he acts a straightforward honest part, when he says "A Catholic Priest informs us in his Sermon on Wisdomand Innocence preached at St. Mary's, " and he thinks that I am theshuffler and quibbler when I forbid him to do so. So singular aphenomenon in a man of undoubted ability has struck me forcibly, andI shall pursue the train of thought which it opens. 

It is not he alone who entertains, and has entertained, such anopinion of me and my writings. It is the impression of large classesof men; the impression twenty years ago and the impression now. Therehas been a general feeling that I was for years where I had no rightto be; that I was a "Romanist" in Protestant livery and service; thatI was doing the work of a hostile church in the bosom of the EnglishEstablishment, and knew it, or ought to have known it. There was noneed of arguing about particular passages in my writings, when thefact was so patent, as men thought it to be. 

First it was certain, and I could not myself deny it, that I scoutedthe name "Protestant. " It was certain again, that many of thedoctrines which I professed were popularly and generally known asbadges of the Roman Church, as distinguished from the faith of theReformation. Next, how could I have come by them? Evidently, I hadcertain friends and advisers who did not appear; there was someunderground communication between Stonyhurst or Oscott and my roomsat Oriel. Beyond a doubt, I was advocating certain doctrines, notby accident, but on an understanding with ecclesiastics of the oldreligion. Then men went further, and said that I had actually beenreceived into that religion, and withal had leave given me to professmyself a Protestant still. Others went even further, and gave it outto the world, as a matter of fact, of which they themselves had theproof in their hands, that I was actually a Jesuit. And when theopinions which I advocated spread, and younger men went further thanI, the feeling against me waxed stronger and took a wider range. 

And now indignation arose at the knavery of a conspiracy such asthis:--and it became of course all the greater, in consequence of itsbeing the received belief of the public at large, that craft andintrigue, such as they fancied they beheld with their own eyes, werethe very instruments to which the Catholic Church has in these lastcenturies been indebted for her maintenance and extension. 

There was another circumstance still, which increased the irritationand aversion felt by the large classes, of whom I have been speaking, as regards the preachers of doctrines, so new to them and sounpalatable; and that was, that they developed them in so measured away. If they were inspired by Roman theologians (and this was takenfor granted), why did they not speak out at once? Why did they keepthe world in such suspense and anxiety as to what was coming next, and what was to be the upshot of the whole? Why this reticence, andhalf-speaking, and apparent indecision? It was plain that the plan ofoperations had been carefully mapped out from the first, and thatthese men were cautiously advancing towards its accomplishment, asfar as was safe at the moment; that their aim and their hope was tocarry off a large body with them of the young and the ignorant; thatthey meant gradually to leaven the minds of the rising generation, and to open the gate of that city, of which they were the sworndefenders, to the enemy who lay in ambush outside of it. And when inspite of the many protestations of the party to the contrary, therewas at length an actual movement among their disciples, and one wentover to Rome, and then another, the worst anticipations and the worstjudgments which had been formed of them received their justification. And, lastly, when men first had said of me, "You will see, _he_ willgo, he is only biding his time, he is waiting the word of commandfrom Rome, " and, when after all, after my arguments and denunciationsof former years, at length I did leave the Anglican Church for theRoman, then they said to each other, "It is just as we said: I toldyou so. "

This was the state of mind of masses of men twenty years ago, whotook no more than an external and common-sense view of what was goingon. And partly the tradition, partly the effect of that feeling, remains to the present time. Certainly I consider that, in my owncase, it is the great obstacle in the way of my being favourablyheard, as at present, when I have to make my defence. Not only am Inow a member of a most un-English communion, whose great aim isconsidered to be the extinction of Protestantism and the ProtestantChurch, and whose means of attack are popularly supposed to beunscrupulous cunning and deceit, but besides, how came I originallyto have any relations with the Church of Rome at all? did I, or myopinions, drop from the sky? how came I, in Oxford, _in gremioUniversitatis_, to present myself to the eyes of men in thatfull-blown investiture of Popery? How could I dare, how could I havethe conscience, with warnings, with prophecies, with accusationsagainst me, to persevere in a path which steadily advanced towards, which ended in, the religion of Rome? And how am I now to be trusted, when long ago I was trusted, and was found wanting?

It is this which is the strength of the case of my accuser againstme;--not his arguments in themselves, which I shall easily crumbleinto dust, but the bias of the court. It is the state of theatmosphere; it is the vibration all around which will more or lessecho his assertion of my dishonesty; it is that prepossession againstme, which takes it for granted that, when my reasoning is convincingit is only ingenious, and that when my statements are unanswerable, there is always something put out of sight or hidden in my sleeve; itis that plausible, but cruel conclusion to which men are so apt tojump, that when much is imputed, something must be true, and that itis more likely that one should be to blame, than that many should bemistaken in blaming him;--these are the real foes which I have tofight, and the auxiliaries to whom my accuser makes his court. 

Well, I must break through this barrier of prejudice against me, if Ican; and I think I shall be able to do so. When first I read thepamphlet of Accusation, I almost despaired of meeting effectivelysuch a heap of misrepresentation and such a vehemence of animosity. What was the good of answering first one point, and then another, andgoing through the whole circle of its abuse; when my answer to thefirst point would be forgotten, as soon as I got to the second? Whatwas the use of bringing out half a hundred separate principles orviews for the refutation of the separate counts in the indictment, when rejoinders of this sort would but confuse and torment thereader by their number and their diversity? What hope was there ofcondensing into a pamphlet of a readable length, matter which oughtfreely to expand itself into half a dozen volumes? What means wasthere, except the expenditure of interminable pages, to set righteven one of that series of "single passing hints, " to use myassailant's own language, which, "as with his finger tip, he haddelivered" against me?

All those separate charges of his had their force in beingillustrations of one and the same great imputation. He had a positiveidea to illuminate his whole matter, and to stamp it with a form, andto quicken it with an interpretation. He called me a _liar_--asimple, a broad, an intelligible, to the English public a plausiblearraignment; but for me, to answer in detail charge one by reasonone, and charge two by reason two, and charge three by reason three, and so to proceed through the whole string both of accusations andreplies, each of which was to be independent of the rest, this wouldbe certainly labour lost as regards any effective result. What Ineeded was a corresponding antagonist unity in my defence, and wherewas that to be found? We see, in the case of commentators on theprophecies of Scripture, an exemplification of the principle onwhich I am insisting; viz. How much more powerful even a falseinterpretation of the sacred text is than none at all;--how a certainkey to the visions of the Apocalypse, for instance, may cling to themind--(I have found it so in my own case)--mainly because they arepositive and objective, in spite of the fullest demonstration thatthey really have no claim upon our belief. The reader says, "Whatelse can the prophecy mean?" just as my accuser asks, "What, then, does Dr. Newman mean?" . .. I reflected, and I saw a way out of myperplexity. 

Yes, I said to myself, his very question is about my _meaning_; "Whatdoes Dr. Newman mean?" It pointed in the very same direction as thatinto which my musings had turned me already. He asks what I _mean_;not about my words, not about my arguments, not about my actions, ashis ultimate point, but about that living intelligence, by which Iwrite, and argue, and act. He asks about my mind and its beliefs andits sentiments; and he shall be answered;--not for his own sake, butfor mine, for the sake of the religion which I profess, and of thepriesthood in which I am unworthily included, and of my friends andof my foes, and of that general public which consists of neither onenor the other, but of well-wishers, lovers of fair play, scepticalcross-questioners, interested inquirers, curious lookers-on, andsimple strangers, unconcerned yet not careless about the issue. 

My perplexity did not last half an hour. I recognised what I had todo, though I shrank from both the task and the exposure which itwould entail. I must, I said, give the true key to my whole life; Imust show what I am that it may be seen what I am not, and that thephantom may be extinguished which gibbers instead of me. I wish to beknown as a living man, and not as a scarecrow which is dressed up inmy clothes. False ideas may be refuted indeed by argument, but bytrue ideas alone are they expelled. I will vanquish, not my accuser, but my judges. I will indeed answer his charges and criticisms on meone by one, lest any one should say that they are unanswerable, butsuch a work shall not be the scope nor the substance of my reply. Iwill draw out, as far as may be, the history of my mind; I will statethe point at which I began, in what external suggestion or accidenteach opinion had its rise, how far and how they were developed fromwithin, how they grew, were modified, were combined, were incollision with each other, and were changed; again how I conductedmyself towards them, and how, and how far, and for how long a time, Ithought I could hold them consistently with the ecclesiasticalengagements which I had made and with the position which I filled. Imust show--what is the very truth--that the doctrines which I held, and have held for so many years, have been taught me (speakinghumanly) partly by the suggestions of Protestant friends, partly bythe teaching of books, and partly by the action of my own mind: andthus I shall account for that phenomenon which to so many seems sowonderful, that I should have left "my kindred and my father's house"for a Church from which once I turned away with dread;--so wonderfulto them! as if forsooth a religion which has flourished through somany ages, among so many nations, amid such varieties of social life, in such contrary classes and conditions of men, and after so manyrevolutions, political and civil, could not subdue the reason andovercome the heart, without the aid of fraud and the sophistries ofthe schools. 

What I had proposed to myself in the course of half an hour, Idetermined on at the end of ten days. However, I have manydifficulties in fulfilling my design. How am I to say all that has tobe said in a reasonable compass? And then as to the materials of mynarrative; I have no autobiographical notes to consult, no writtenexplanations of particular treatises or of tracts which at thetime gave offence, hardly any minutes of definite transactionsor conversations, and few contemporary memoranda, I fear, of thefeelings or motives under which from time to time I acted. I have anabundance of letters from friends with some copies or drafts of myanswers to them, but they are for the most part unsorted, and, tillthis process has taken place, they are even too numerous and variousto be available at a moment for my purpose. Then, as to the volumeswhich I have published, they would in many ways serve me, were I wellup in them; but though I took great pains in their composition, Ihave thought little about them, when they were at length out of myhands, and, for the most part, the last time I read them has beenwhen I revised their proof sheets. 

Under these circumstances my sketch will of course be incomplete. Inow for the first time contemplate my course as a whole; it is afirst essay, but it will contain, I trust, no serious or substantialmistake, and so far will answer the purpose for which I write it. Ipurpose to set nothing down in it as certain, for which I have not aclear memory, or some written memorial, or the corroboration of somefriend. There are witnesses enough up and down the country to verify, or correct, or complete it; and letters moreover of my own inabundance, unless they have been destroyed. 

Moreover, I mean to be simply personal and historical: I am notexpounding Catholic doctrine, I am doing no more than explainingmyself, and my opinions and actions. I wish, as far as I am able, simply to state facts, whether they are ultimately determined tobe for me or against me. Of course there will be room enough forcontrariety of judgment among my readers, as to the necessity, orappositeness, or value, or good taste, or religious prudence of thedetails which I shall introduce. I may be accused of laying stress onlittle things, of being beside the mark, of going into impertinent orridiculous details, of sounding my own praise, of giving scandal; butthis is a case above all others, in which I am bound to follow my ownlights and to speak out my own heart. It is not at all pleasant forme to be egotistical; nor to be criticised for being so. It is notpleasant to reveal to high and low, young and old, what has gone onwithin me from my early years. It is not pleasant to be giving toevery shallow or flippant disputant the advantage over me of knowingmy most private thoughts, I might even say the intercourse betweenmyself and my Maker. But I do not like to be called to my face a liarand a knave: nor should I be doing my duty to my faith or to my name, if I were to suffer it. I know I have done nothing to deserve such aninsult; and if I prove this, as I hope to do, I must not care forsuch incidental annoyances as are involved in the process. 

Part III

History of My Religious Opinions

It may easily be conceived how great a trial it is to me to write thefollowing history of myself; but I must not shrink from the task. Thewords, "Secretum meum mihi, " keep ringing in my ears; but as men drawtowards their end, they care less for disclosures. Nor is it theleast part of my trial, to anticipate that my friends may, upon firstreading what I have written, consider much in it irrelevant to mypurpose; yet I cannot help thinking that, viewed as a whole, it willeffect what I wish it to do. 

I was brought up from a child to take great delight in reading theBible; but I had no formed religious convictions till I was fifteen. Of course I had perfect knowledge of my Catechism. 

After I was grown up, I put on paper such recollections as I had ofmy thoughts and feelings on religious subjects, at the time that Iwas a child and a boy. Out of these I select two, which are at oncethe most definite among them, and also have a bearing on my laterconvictions. 

In the paper to which I have referred, written either in the longvacation of 1820, or in October, 1823, the following notices of myschool days were sufficiently prominent in my memory for me toconsider them worth recording:--"I used to wish the Arabian Taleswere true: my imagination ran on unknown influences, on magicalpowers, and talismans . .. I thought life might be a dream, or I anAngel, and all this world a deception, my fellow-angels by a playfuldevice concealing themselves from me, and deceiving me with thesemblance of a material world. "

Again, "Reading in the Spring of 1816 a sentence from [Dr. Watts's]'Remnants of Time, ' entitled 'the Saints unknown to the world, ' tothe effect, that 'there is nothing in their figure or countenance todistinguish them, ' etc. Etc. , I supposed he spoke of Angels who livedin the world, as it were disguised. "

The other remark is this: "I was very superstitious, and for sometime previous to my conversion" [when I was fifteen] "used constantlyto cross myself on going into the dark. "

Of course I must have got this practice from some external source orother; but I can make no sort of conjecture whence; and certainly noone had ever spoken to me on the subject of the Catholic religion, which I only knew by name. The French master was an _émigré_ priest, but he was simply made a butt, as French masters too commonly were inthat day, and spoke English very imperfectly. There was a Catholicfamily in the village, old maiden ladies we used to think; but I knewnothing but their name. I have of late years heard that there wereone or two Catholic boys in the school; but either we were carefullykept from knowing this, or the knowledge of it made simply noimpression on our minds. My brother will bear witness how free theschool was from Catholic ideas. 

I had once been into Warwick Street Chapel, with my father, who, Ibelieve, wanted to hear some piece of music; all that I bore awayfrom it was the recollection of a pulpit and a preacher and a boyswinging a censer. 

When I was at Littlemore, I was looking over old copy-books of myschool days, and I found among them my first Latin verse-book; and inthe first page of it, there was a device which almost took my breathaway with surprise. I have the book before me now, and have just beenshowing it to others. I have written in the first page, in myschool-boy hand, "John H. Newman, February 11th, 1811, Verse Book;"then follow my first verses. Between "Verse" and "Book" I have drawnthe figure of a solid cross upright, and next to it is, what mayindeed be meant for a necklace, but what I cannot make out to beanything else than a set of beads suspended, with a little crossattached. At this time I was not quite ten years old. I suppose I gotthe idea from some romance, Mrs. Radcliffe's or Miss Porter's; orfrom some religious picture; but the strange thing is, how, amongthe thousand objects which meet a boy's eyes, these in particularshould so have fixed themselves in my mind, that I made them thuspractically my own. I am certain there was nothing in the churchesI attended, or the prayer books I read, to suggest them. It must berecollected that churches and prayer books were not decorated inthose days as I believe they are now. 

When I was fourteen, I read Paine's tracts against the Old Testament, and found pleasure in thinking of the objections which were containedin them. Also, I read some of Hume's essays; and perhaps that onMiracles. So at least I gave my father to understand; but perhaps itwas a brag. Also, I recollect copying out some French verses, perhapsVoltaire's, against the immortality of the soul, and saying to myselfsomething like "How dreadful, but how plausible!"

When I was fifteen (in the autumn of 1816) a great change of thoughttook place in me. I fell under the influences of a definite creed, and received into my intellect impressions of dogma, which, throughGod's mercy, have never been effaced or obscured. Above and beyondthe conversations and sermons of the excellent man, long dead, whowas the human means of this beginning of divine faith in me, was theeffect of the books which he put into my hands, all of the schoolof Calvin. One of the first books I read was a work of Romaine's; Ineither recollect the title nor the contents, except one doctrine, which of course I do not include among those which I believe to havecome from a divine source, viz. The doctrine of final perseverance. Ireceived it at once, and believed that the inward conversion of whichI was conscious (and of which I still am more certain than that Ihave hands and feet) would last into the next life, and that I waselected to eternal glory. I have no consciousness that this beliefhad any tendency whatever to lead me to be careless about pleasingGod. I retained it till the age of twenty-one, when it graduallyfaded away; but I believe that it had some influence on my opinions, in the direction of those childish imaginations which I have alreadymentioned, viz. In isolating me from the objects which surrounded me, in confirming me in my mistrust of the reality of material phenomena, and making me rest in the thought of two and two only supreme andluminously self-evident beings, myself and my Creator;--for while Iconsidered myself predestined to salvation, I thought others simplypassed over, not predestined to eternal death. I only thought of themercy to myself. 

The detestable doctrine last mentioned is simply denied and abjured, unless my memory strangely deceives me, by the writer who made adeeper impression on my mind than any other, and to whom (humanlyspeaking) I almost owe my soul--Thomas Scott of Aston Sandford. I soadmired and delighted in his writings, that, when I was anundergraduate, I thought of making a visit to his parsonage, in orderto see a man whom I so deeply revered. I hardly think I could havegiven up the idea of this expedition, even after I had taken mydegree; for the news of his death in 1821 came upon me as adisappointment as well as a sorrow. I hung upon the lips of DanielWilson, afterwards Bishop of Calcutta, as in two sermons at St. John's Chapel he gave the history of Scott's life and death. I hadbeen possessed of his essays from a boy; his commentary I bought whenI was an undergraduate. 

What, I suppose, will strike any reader of Scott's history andwritings, is his bold unworldliness and vigorous independence ofmind. He followed truth wherever it led him, beginning withUnitarianism, and ending in a zealous faith in the Holy Trinity. Itwas he who first planted deep in my mind that fundamental truth ofreligion. With the assistance of Scott's essays, and the admirablework of Jones of Nayland, I made a collection of Scripture texts inproof of the doctrine, with remarks (I think) of my own upon them, before I was sixteen; and a few months later I drew up a series oftexts in support of each verse of the Athanasian Creed. These papersI have still. 

Besides his unworldliness, what I also admired in Scott was hisresolute opposition to Antinomianism, and the minutely practicalcharacter of his writings. They show him to be a true Englishman, andI deeply felt his influence; and for years I used almost as proverbswhat I considered to be the scope and issue of his doctrine, "Holiness before peace, " and "Growth is the only evidence of life. "

Calvinists make a sharp separation between the elect and the world;there is much in this that is parallel or cognate to the Catholicdoctrine; but they go on to say, as I understand them, verydifferently from Catholicism, --that the converted and the unconvertedcan be discriminated by man, that the justified are conscious oftheir state of justification, and that the regenerate cannot fallaway. Catholics on the other hand shade and soften the awfulantagonism between good and evil, which is one of their dogmas, byholding that there are different degrees of justification, that thereis a great difference in point of gravity between sin and sin, thatthere is the possibility and the danger of falling away, and thatthere is no certain knowledge given to any one that he is simply in astate of grace, and much less that he is to persevere to the end:--ofthe Calvinistic tenets the only one which took root in my mind wasthe fact of heaven and hell, divine favour and divine wrath, of thejustified and the unjustified. The notion that the regenerate and thejustified were one and the same, and that the regenerate, as such, had the gift of perseverance, remained with me not many years, as Ihave said already. 

This main Catholic doctrine of the warfare between the city of Godand the powers of darkness was also deeply impressed upon my mind bya work of a very opposite character, Law's "Serious Call. "

From this time I have given a full inward assent and belief to thedoctrine of eternal punishment, as delivered by our Lord Himself, inas true a sense as I hold that of eternal happiness; though I havetried in various ways to make that truth less terrible to the reason. 

Now I come to two other works, which produced a deep impression on mein the same autumn of 1816, when I was fifteen years old, eachcontrary to each, and planting in me the seeds of an intellectualinconsistency which disabled me for a long course of years. I readJoseph Milner's Church History, and was nothing short of enamouredof the long extracts from St. Augustine and the other Fathers whichI found there. I read them as being the religion of the primitiveChristians: but simultaneously with Milner I read Newton on theProphecies, and in consequence became most firmly convinced that thePope was the Antichrist predicted by Daniel, St. Paul, and St. John. My imagination was stained by the effects of this doctrine up to theyear 1843; it had been obliterated from my reason and judgment at anearlier date; but the thought remained upon me as a sort of falseconscience. Hence came that conflict of mind, which so many have feltbesides myself;--leading some men to make a compromise between twoideas, so inconsistent with each other--driving others to beat outthe one idea or the other from their minds--and ending in my owncase, after many years of intellectual unrest, in the gradual decayand extinction of one of them--I do not say in its violent death, forwhy should I not have murdered it sooner, if I murdered it at all?

I am obliged to mention, though I do it with great reluctance, another deep imagination, which at this time, the autumn of 1816, took possession of me--there can be no mistake about the fact;--viz. That it was the will of God that I should lead a single life. Thisanticipation, which has held its ground almost continuously eversince--with the break of a month now and a month then, up to 1829, and, after that date, without any break at all--was more or lessconnected, in my mind, with the notion that my calling in life wouldrequire such a sacrifice as celibacy involved; as, for instance, missionary work among the heathen, to which I had a great drawing forsome years. It also strengthened my feeling of separation from thevisible world, of which I have spoken above. 

In 1822 I came under very different influences from those to which Ihad hitherto been subjected. At that time, Mr. Whately, as he wasthen, afterwards Archbishop of Dublin, for the few months he remainedin Oxford, which he was leaving for good, showed great kindness tome. He renewed it in 1825, when he became Principal of Alban Hall, making me his vice-principal and tutor. Of Dr. Whately I will speakpresently, for from 1822 to 1825 I saw most of the present Provost ofOriel, Dr. Hawkins, at that time Vicar of St. Mary's; and, when Itook orders in 1824 and had a curacy at Oxford, then, during the longvacations, I was especially thrown into his company. I can say with afull heart that I love him, and have never ceased to love him; and Ithus preface what otherwise might sound rude, that in the course ofthe many years in which we were together afterwards, he provoked mevery much from time to time, though I am perfectly certain that Ihave provoked him a great deal more. Moreover, in me such provocationwas unbecoming, both because he was the head of my college, andbecause in the first years that I knew him, he had been in many waysof great service to my mind. 

He was the first who taught me to weigh my words, and to be cautiousin my statements. He led me to that mode of limiting and clearing mysense in discussion and in controversy, and of distinguishing betweencognate ideas, and of obviating mistakes by anticipation, which to mysurprise has been since considered, even in quarters friendly to me, to savour of the polemics of Rome. He is a man of most exact mindhimself, and he used to snub me severely, on reading, as he was kindenough to do, the first sermons that I wrote, and other compositionswhich I was engaged upon. 

Then as to doctrine, he was the means of great additions to mybelief. As I have noticed elsewhere, he gave me the "Treatise onApostolical Preaching, " by Sumner, afterwards Archbishop ofCanterbury, from which I learned to give up my remaining Calvinism, and to receive the doctrine of Baptismal Regeneration. In many otherways too he was of use to me, on subjects semi-religious andsemi-scholastic. 

It was Dr. Hawkins too who taught me to anticipate that, before manyyears were over there would be an attack made upon the books and thecanon of Scripture. I was brought to the same belief by theconversation of Mr. Blanco White, who also led me to have freer viewson the subject of inspiration than were usual in the Church ofEngland at the time. 

There is one other principle, which I gained from Dr. Hawkins, moredirectly bearing upon Catholicism, than any that I have mentioned;and that is the doctrine of Tradition. When I was an undergraduate, Iheard him preach in the University pulpit his celebrated sermon onthe subject, and recollect how long it appeared to me, though he wasat that time a very striking preacher; but, when I read it andstudied it as his gift, it made a most serious impression upon me. Hedoes not go one step, I think, beyond the high Anglican doctrine, nayhe does not reach it; but he does his work thoroughly, and his viewwas original with him, and his subject was a novel one at the time. He lays down a proposition, self-evident as soon as stated, to thosewho have at all examined the structure of Scripture, viz. That thesacred text was never intended to teach doctrine, but only to proveit, and that, if we would learn doctrine, we must have recourse tothe formularies of the Church; for instance to the Catechism, andto the Creeds. He considers, that, after learning from them thedoctrines of Christianity, the inquirer must verify them byScripture. This view, most true in its outline, most fruitful in itsconsequences, opened upon me a large field of thought. Dr. Whatelyheld it too. One of its effects was to strike at the root of theprinciple on which the Bible Society was set up. I belonged to itsOxford Association; it became a matter of time when I should withdrawmy name from its subscription-list, though I did not do so at once. 

It is with pleasure that I pay here a tribute to the memory of theRev. William James, then Fellow of Oriel; who, about the year 1823, taught me the doctrine of Apostolical Succession, in the course of awalk, I think, round Christ Church meadow: I recollect being somewhatimpatient on the subject at the time. 

It was at about this date, I suppose, that I read Bishop Butler'sAnalogy; the study of which has been to so many, as it was to me, anera in their religious opinions. Its inculcation of a visible Church, the oracle of truth and a pattern of sanctity, of the duties ofexternal religion, and of the historical character of revelation, arecharacteristics of this great work which strike the reader at once;for myself, if I may attempt to determine what I most gained from it, it lay in two points, which I shall have an opportunity of dwellingon in the sequel; they are the underlying principles of a greatportion of my teaching. First, the very idea of an analogy betweenthe separate works of God leads to the conclusion that the systemwhich is of less importance is economically or sacramentallyconnected with the more momentous system, and of this conclusion thetheory, to which I was inclined as a boy, viz. The unreality ofmaterial phenomena, is an ultimate resolution. At this time I did notmake the distinction between matter itself and its phenomena, whichis so necessary and so obvious in discussing the subject. Secondly, Butler's doctrine that probability is the guide of life, led me, atleast under the teaching to which a few years later I was introduced, to the question of the logical cogency of faith, on which I havewritten so much. Thus to Butler I trace those two principles of myteaching, which have led to a charge against me both of fancifulnessand of scepticism. 

And now as to Dr. Whately. I owe him a great deal. He was a man ofgenerous and warm heart. He was particularly loyal to his friends, and to use the common phrase, "all his geese were swans. " While Iwas still awkward and timid in 1822, he took me by the hand, andacted the part to me of a gentle and encouraging instructor. He, emphatically, opened my mind, and taught me to think and to use myreason. After being first noticed by him in 1822, I became veryintimate with him in 1825, when I was his Vice-Principal at AlbanHall. I gave up that office in 1826, when I became tutor of myCollege, and his hold upon me gradually relaxed. He had done his worktowards me or nearly so, when he had taught me to see with my owneyes and to walk with my own feet. Not that I had not a good deal tolearn from others still, but I influenced them as well as they me, and co-operated rather than merely concurred with them. As to Dr. Whately, his mind was too different from mine for us to remain longon one line. I recollect how dissatisfied he was with an article ofmine in the _London Review_, which Blanco White, good-humouredly, only called platonic. When I was diverging from him (which he did notlike), I thought of dedicating my first book to him, in words to theeffect that he had not only taught me to think, but to think formyself. He left Oxford in 1831; after that, as far as I canrecollect, I never saw him but twice--when he visited the University;once in the street, once in a room. From the time that he left, Ihave always felt a real affection for what I must call his memory;for thenceforward he made himself dead to me. My reason told me thatit was impossible that we could have got on together longer; yet Iloved him too much to bid him farewell without pain. After a fewyears had passed, I began to believe that his influence on me in ahigher respect than intellectual advance (I will not say through hisfault) had not been satisfactory. I believe that he has insertedsharp things in his later works about me. They have never come in myway, and I have not thought it necessary to seek out what would painme so much in the reading. 

What he did for me in point of religious opinion, was first to teachme the existence of the Church, as a substantive body or corporation;next to fix in me those anti-Erastian views of Church polity, whichwere one of the most prominent features of the Tractarian movement. On this point, and, as far as I know, on this point alone, he andHurrell Froude intimately sympathised, though Froude's development ofopinion here was of a later date. In the year 1826, in the course ofa walk he said much to me about a work then just published, called"Letters on the Church by an Episcopalian. " He said that it wouldmake my blood boil. It was certainly a most powerful composition. Oneof our common friends told me, that, after reading it, he could notkeep still, but went on walking up and down his room. It was ascribedat once to Whately; I gave eager expression to the contrary opinion;but I found the belief of Oxford in the affirmative to be too strongfor me; rightly or wrongly I yielded to the general voice; and I havenever heard, then or since, of any disclaimer of authorship on thepart of Dr. Whately. 

The main positions of this able essay are these; first that Churchand State should be independent of each other:--he speaks of the dutyof protesting "against the profanation of Christ's kingdom, by that_double usurpation_, the interference of the Church in temporals, ofthe State in spirituals, " (p. 191); and, secondly, that the Churchmay justly and by right retain its property, though separated fromthe State. "The clergy, " he says p. 133, "though they ought not to bethe hired servants of the Civil Magistrate, may justly retain theirrevenues; and the State, though it has no right of interference inspiritual concerns, not only is justly entitled to support from theministers of religion, and from all other Christians, but would, under the system I am recommending, obtain it much more effectually. "The author of this work, whoever he may be, argues out both thesepoints with great force and ingenuity, and with a thorough-goingvehemence, which perhaps we may refer to the circumstance, that hewrote, not _in propriâ personâ_, but in the professed character of aScotch Episcopalian. His work had a gradual, but a deep effect on mymind. 

I am not aware of any other religious opinion which I owe to Dr. Whately. For his special theological tenets I had no sympathy. In thenext year, 1827, he told me he considered that I was Arianising. Thecase was this: though at that time I had not read Bishop Bull's_Defensio_ nor the Fathers, I was just then very strong for thatante-Nicene view of the Trinitarian doctrine, which some writers, both Catholic and non-Catholic, have accused of wearing a sort ofArian exterior. This is the meaning of a passage in Froude's Remains, in which he seems to accuse me of speaking against the AthanasianCreed. I had contrasted the two aspects of the Trinitarian doctrine, which are respectively presented by the Athanasian Creed and theNicene. My criticisms were to the effect that some of the verses ofthe former Creed were unnecessarily scientific. This is a specimen ofa certain disdain for antiquity which had been growing on me now forseveral years. It showed itself in some flippant language against theFathers in the Encyclopædia Metropolitana, about whom I knew littleat the time, except what I had learnt as a boy from Joseph Milner. Inwriting on the Scripture Miracles in 1825-6, I had read Middleton onthe Miracles of the early Church, and had imbibed a portion of hisspirit. 

The truth is, I was beginning to prefer intellectual excellence tomoral; I was drifting in the direction of liberalism. I was rudelyawakened from my dream at the end of 1827 by two great blows--illnessand bereavement. 

In the beginning of 1829, came the formal break between Dr. Whatelyand me; Mr. Peel's attempted re-election was the occasion of it. I think in 1828 or 1827 I had voted in the minority, when thepetition to Parliament against the Catholic claims was brought intoConvocation. I did so mainly on the views suggested to me by thetheory of the Letters of an Episcopalian. Also I disliked thebigoted "two bottle orthodox, " as they were invidiously called. I took part against Mr. Peel, on a simple academical, not at allan ecclesiastical or a political ground; and this I professed atthe time. I considered that Mr. Peel had taken the University bysurprise, that he had no right to call upon us to turn round on asudden, and to expose ourselves to the imputation of time-serving, and that a great University ought not to be bullied even by a greatDuke of Wellington. Also by this time I was under the influence ofKeble and Froude; who, in addition to the reasons I have given, disliked the Duke's change of policy as dictated by liberalism. 

Whately was considerably annoyed at me, and he took a humourousrevenge, of which he had given me due notice beforehand. As head of ahouse, he had duties of hospitality to men of all parties; he asked aset of the least intellectual men in Oxford to dinner, and men mostfond of port; he made me one of the party; placed me between Provostthis and Principal that, and then asked me if I was proud of myfriends. However, he had a serious meaning in his act; he saw, moreclearly than I could do, that I was separating from his own friendsfor good and all. 

Dr. Whately attributed my leaving his _clientela_ to a wish on mypart to be the head of a party myself. I do not think that it wasdeserved. My habitual feeling then and since has been, that it wasnot I who sought friends, but friends who sought me. Never man hadkinder or more indulgent friends than I have had, but I expressed myown feeling as to the mode in which I gained them, in this very year1829, in the course of a copy of verses. Speaking of my blessings, Isaid, "Blessings of friends, which to my door, _unasked, unhoped_, have come. " They have come, they have gone; they came to my greatjoy, they went to my great grief. He who gave, took away. Dr. Whately's impression about me, however, admits of this explanation:--

During the first years of my residence at Oriel, though proud of mycollege, I was not at home there. I was very much alone, and I usedoften to take my daily walk by myself. I recollect once meeting Dr. Copleston, then provost, with one of the fellows. He turned round, and with the kind courteousness which sat so well on him, made me abow and said, "Nunquam minus solus, quàm cùm solus. " At that timeindeed (from 1823) I had the intimacy of my dear and true friend Dr. Pusey, and could not fail to admire and revere a soul so devoted tothe cause of religion, so full of good works, so faithful in hisaffections; but he left residence when I was getting to know himwell. As to Dr. Whately himself, he was too much my superior to allowof my being at my ease with him; and to no one in Oxford at this timedid I open my heart fully and familiarly. But things changed in 1826. At that time I became one of the tutors of my college, and this gaveme position; besides, I had written one or two essays which had beenwell received. I began to be known. I preached my first UniversitySermon. Next year I was one of the Public Examiners for the B. A. Degree. It was to me like the feeling of spring weather after winter;and, if I may so speak, I came out of my shell; I remained out of ittill 1841. 

The two persons who knew me best at that time are still alive, beneficed clergymen, no longer my friends. They could tell betterthan any one else what I was in those years. From this time my tonguewas, as it were, loosened, and I spoke spontaneously and withouteffort. A shrewd man, who knew me at this time, said, "Here is a manwho, when he is silent, will never begin to speak; and when he oncebegins to speak, will never stop. " It was at this time that I beganto have influence, which steadily increased for a course of years. I gained upon my pupils, and was in particular intimate andaffectionate with two of our probationer fellows, Robert I. Wilberforce (afterwards archdeacon) and Richard Hurrell Froude. Whately then, an acute man, perhaps saw around me the signs of anincipient party of which I was not conscious myself. And thus wediscern the first elements of that movement afterwards calledTractarian. 

The true and primary author of it, however, as is usual with greatmotive-powers, was out of sight. Having carried off as a mere boythe highest honours of the University, he had turned from theadmiration which haunted his steps, and sought for a better andholier satisfaction in pastoral work in the country. Need I say thatI am speaking of John Keble? The first time that I was in a room withhim was on occasion of my election to a fellowship at Oriel, when Iwas sent for into the Tower, to shake hands with the provost andfellows. How is that hour fixed in my memory after the changes offorty-two years, forty-two this very day on which I write! I havelately had a letter in my hands, which I sent at the time to mygreat friend, John Bowden, with whom I passed almost exclusively myUndergraduate years. "I had to hasten to the tower, " I say to him, "to receive the congratulations of all the fellows. I bore it tillKeble took my hand, and then felt so abashed and unworthy of thehonour done me, that I seemed desirous of quite sinking into theground. " His had been the first name which I had heard spoken of, with reverence rather than admiration, when I came up to Oxford. Whenone day I was walking in High Street with my dear earliest friendjust mentioned, with what eagerness did he cry out, "There's Keble!"and with what awe did I look at him! Then at another time I heard amaster of arts of my college give an account how he had just then hadoccasion to introduce himself on some business to Keble, and howgentle, courteous, and unaffected Keble had been, so as almost to puthim out of countenance. Then too it was reported, truly or falsely, how a rising man of brilliant reputation, the present Dean of St. Paul's, Dr. Milman, admired and loved him, adding, that somehow hewas unlike any one else. However, at the time when I was electedFellow of Oriel he was not in residence, and he was shy of me foryears in consequence of the marks which I bore upon me of theevangelical and liberal schools. At least so I have ever thought. Hurrell Froude brought us together about 1828: it is one of thesayings preserved in his "Remains, "--"Do you know the story of themurderer who had done one good thing in his life? Well; if I was everasked what good deed I had ever done, I should say that I had broughtKeble and Newman to understand each other. "

The Christian Year made its appearance in 1827. It is not necessary, and scarcely becoming, to praise a book which has already become oneof the classics of the language. When the general tone of religiousliterature was so nerveless and impotent, as it was at that time, Keble struck an original note and woke up in the hearts of thousandsa new music, the music of a school, long unknown in England. Nor canI pretend to analyse, in my own instance, the effect of religiousteaching so deep, so pure, so beautiful. I have never till now triedto do so; yet I think I am not wrong in saying, that the two mainintellectual truths which it brought home to me, were the same two, which I had learned from Butler, though recast in the creative mindof my new master. The first of these was what may be called, in alarge sense of the word, the sacramental system; that is, thedoctrine that material phenomena are both the types and theinstruments of real things unseen, --a doctrine, which embraces, notonly what Anglicans, as well as Catholics, believe about sacramentsproperly so called; but also the article of "the Communion of Saints"in its fulness; and likewise the mysteries of the faith. Theconnection of this philosophy of religion with what is sometimescalled "Berkeleyism" has been mentioned above; I knew little ofBerkeley at this time except by name; nor have I ever studied him. 

On the second intellectual principle which I gained from Mr. Keble, Icould say a great deal; if this were the place for it. It runsthrough very much that I have written, and has gained for me manyhard names. Butler teaches us that probability is the guide of life. The danger of this doctrine, in the case of many minds, is, itstendency to destroy in them absolute certainty, leading them toconsider every conclusion as doubtful, and resolving truth into anopinion, which it is safe to obey or to profess, but not possible toembrace with full internal assent. If this were to be allowed, thenthe celebrated saying, "O God, if there be a God, save my soul, if Ihave a soul!" would be the highest measure of devotion:--but who canreally pray to a being, about whose existence he is seriously indoubt?

I considered that Mr. Keble met this difficulty by ascribing thefirmness of assent which we give to religious doctrine, not to theprobabilities which introduced it, but to the living power of faithand love which accepted it. In matters of religion, he seemed to say, it is not merely probability which makes us intellectually certain, but probability as it is put to account by faith and love. It isfaith and love which give to probability a force which it has not initself. Faith and love are directed towards an object; in the visionof that object they live; it is that object, received in faith andlove, which renders it reasonable to take probability as sufficientfor internal conviction. Thus the argument about probability, in thematter of religion, became an argument from personality, which infact is one form of the argument from authority. 

In illustration, Mr. Keble used to quote the words of the psalm: "Iwill guide thee with mine _eye_. Be ye not like to horse and mule, which have no understanding; whose mouths must be held with bit andbridle, lest they fall upon thee. " This is the very difference, heused to say, between slaves, and friends or children. Friends do notask for literal commands; but, from their knowledge of the speaker, they understand his half-words, and from love of him they anticipatehis wishes. Hence it is, that in his poem for St. Bartholomew's Day, he speaks of the "Eye of God's word;" and in the note quotes Mr. Miller, of Worcester College, who remarks, in his Bampton Lectures, on the special power of Scripture, as having "this eye, like that ofa portrait, uniformly fixed upon us, turn where we will. " The viewthus suggested by Mr. Keble, is brought forward in one of theearliest of the "Tracts for the Times. " In No. 8 I say, "The Gospelis a Law of Liberty. We are treated as sons, not as servants; notsubjected to a code of formal commandments, but addressed as thosewho love God, and wish to please Him. "

I did not at all dispute this view of the matter, for I made use ofit myself; but I was dissatisfied, because it did not go to the rootof the difficulty. It was beautiful and religious, but it did noteven profess to be logical; and accordingly I tried to complete it byconsiderations of my own, which are implied in my University sermons, Essay on Ecclesiastical Miracles, and Essay on Development ofDoctrine. My argument is in outline as follows: that that absolutecertitude which we were able to possess, whether as to the truths ofnatural theology, or as to the fact of a revelation, was the resultof an _assemblage_ of concurring and converging probabilities, andthat, both according to the constitution of the human mind and thewill of its Maker; that certitude was a habit of mind, that certaintywas a quality of propositions; that probabilities which did not reachto logical certainty, might create a mental certitude; that thecertitude thus created might equal in measure and strength thecertitude which was created by the strictest scientificdemonstration; and that to have such certitude might in given casesand to given individuals be a plain duty, though not to others inother circumstances:--

Moreover, that as there were probabilities which sufficed to createcertitude, so there were other probabilities which were legitimatelyadapted to create opinion; that it might be quite as much a matter ofduty in given cases and to given persons to have about a fact anopinion of a definite strength and consistency, as in the case ofgreater or of more numerous probabilities it was a duty to have acertitude; that accordingly we were bound to be more or less sure, ona sort of (as it were) graduated scale of assent, viz. According asthe probabilities attaching to a professed fact were brought home tous, and, as the case might be, to entertain about it a pious belief, or a pious opinion, or a religious conjecture, or at least, atolerance of such belief, or opinion, or conjecture in others; thaton the other hand, as it was a duty to have a belief, of more or lessstrong texture, in given cases, so in other cases it was a duty notto believe, not to opine, not to conjecture, not even to tolerate thenotion that a professed fact was true, inasmuch as it would becredulity or superstition, or some other moral fault, to do so. Thiswas the region of private judgment in religion; that is, of a privatejudgment, not formed arbitrarily and according to one's fancy orliking, but conscientiously, and under a sense of duty. 

Considerations such as these throw a new light on the subject ofMiracles, and they seem to have led me to re-consider the view whichI took of them in my Essay in 1825-6. I do not know what was the dateof this change in me, nor of the train of ideas on which it wasfounded. That there had been already great miracles, as those ofScripture, as the Resurrection, was a fact establishing the principlethat the laws of nature had sometimes been suspended by their DivineAuthor; and since what had happened once might happen again, acertain probability, at least no kind of improbability, was attachedto the idea, taken in itself, of miraculous intervention in latertimes, and miraculous accounts were to be regarded in connection withthe verisimilitude, scope, instrument, character, testimony, andcircumstances, with which they presented themselves to us; and, according to the final result of those various considerations, it wasour duty to be sure, or to believe, or to opine, or to surmise, or totolerate, or to reject, or to denounce. The main difference betweenmy essay on Miracles in 1826 and my essay in 1842 is this: thatin 1826 I considered that miracles were sharply divided into twoclasses, those which were to be received, and those which were tobe rejected; whereas in 1842 I saw that they were to be regardedaccording to their greater or less probability, which was in somecases sufficient to create certitude about them, in other cases onlybelief or opinion. 

Moreover, the argument from analogy, on which this view of thequestion was founded, suggested to me something besides, inrecommendation of the ecclesiastical miracles. It fastened itselfupon the theory of church history which I had learned as a boy fromJoseph Milner. It is Milner's doctrine, that upon the visible Churchcome down from above, from time to time, large and temporary_Effusions_ of divine grace. This is the leading idea of his work. Hebegins by speaking of the Day of Pentecost, as marking "the first ofthose _Effusions_ of the Spirit of God, which from age to age havevisited the earth since the coming of Christ" (vol. I. P. 3). In anote he adds that "in the term 'Effusion' there is not here includedthe idea of the miraculous or extraordinary operations of the Spiritof God;" but still it was natural for me, admitting Milner's generaltheory, and applying to it the principle of analogy, not to stopshort at his abrupt _ipse dixit_, but boldly to pass forward to theconclusion, on other grounds plausible, that, as miracles accompaniedthe first effusion of grace, so they might accompany the later. Itis surely a natural and on the whole, a true anticipation (thoughof course there are exceptions in particular cases), that gifts andgraces go together; now, according to the ancient Catholic doctrine, the gift of miracles was viewed as the attendant and shadow oftranscendent sanctity: and moreover, as such sanctity was not ofevery day's occurrence, nay further, as one period of Church historydiffered widely from another, and, as Joseph Milner would say, therehave been generations or centuries of degeneracy or disorder, andtimes of revival, and as one region might be in the mid-day ofreligious fervour, and another in twilight or gloom, there was noforce in the popular argument, that, because we did not see miracleswith our own eyes, miracles had not happened in former times, or werenot now at this very time taking place in distant places:--but I mustnot dwell longer on a subject, to which in a few words it isimpossible to do justice. 

Hurrell Froude was a pupil of Keble's, formed by him, and in turnreacting upon him. I knew him first in 1826, and was in the closestand most affectionate friendship with him from about 1829 till hisdeath in 1836. He was a man of the highest gifts--so trulymany-sided, that it would be presumptuous in me to attempt todescribe him, except under those aspects, in which he came before me. Nor have I here to speak of the gentleness and tenderness of nature, the playfulness, the free elastic force and graceful versatility ofmind, and the patient winning considerateness in discussion, whichendeared him to those to whom he opened his heart; for I am all alongengaged upon matters of belief and opinion, and am introducing othersinto my narrative, not for their own sake, or because I love and haveloved them, so much as because, and so far as, they have influencedmy theological views. In this respect then, I speak of HurrellFroude--in his intellectual aspect--as a man of high genius, brimfuland overflowing with ideas and views, in him original, which were toomany and strong even for his bodily strength, and which crowded andjostled against each other in their effort after distinct shape andexpression. And he had an intellect as critical and logical as it wasspeculative and bold. Dying prematurely, as he did, and in theconflict and transition-state of opinion, his religious views neverreached their ultimate conclusion, by the very reason of theirmultitude and their depth. His opinions arrested and influenced me, even when they did not gain my assent. He professed openly hisadmiration of the Church of Rome, and his hatred of the reformers. He delighted in the notion of an hierarchical system, or sacerdotalpower and of full ecclesiastical liberty. He felt scorn of the maxim, "The Bible and the Bible only is the religion of Protestants;" and hegloried in accepting Tradition as a main instrument of religiousteaching. He had a high severe idea of the intrinsic excellence ofvirginity; and he considered the Blessed Virgin its great pattern. He delighted in thinking of the saints; he had a keen appreciationof the idea of sanctity, its possibility and its heights; and hewas more than inclined to believe a large amount of miraculousinterference as occurring in the early and middle ages. He embracedthe principle of penance and mortification. He had a deep devotion tothe Real Presence, in which he had a firm faith. He was powerfullydrawn to the medieval church, but not to the primitive. 

He had a keen insight into abstract truth; but he was an Englishmanto the backbone in his severe adherence to the real and the concrete. He had a most classical taste, and a genius for philosophy and art;and he was fond of historical inquiry, and the politics of religion. He had no turn for theology as such. He had no appreciation of thewritings of the Fathers, of the detail or development of doctrine, ofthe definite traditions of the Church viewed in their matter, of theteaching of the ecumenical councils, or of the controversies out ofwhich they arose. He took an eager, courageous view of things on thewhole. I should say that his power of entering into the minds ofothers did not equal his other gifts; he could not believe, forinstance, that I really held the Roman Church to be Antichristian. Onmany points he would not believe but that I agreed with him, when Idid not. He seemed not to understand my difficulties. His were of adifferent kind, the contrariety between theory and fact. He was ahigh Tory of the cavalier stamp, and was disgusted with the Toryismof the opponents of the Reform Bill. He was smitten with the love ofthe theocratic church; he went abroad and was shocked by thedegeneracy which he thought he saw in the Catholics of Italy. 

It is difficult to enumerate the precise additions to my theologicalcreed which I derived from a friend to whom I owe so much. He made melook with admiration towards the Church of Rome, and in the samedegree to dislike the Reformation. He fixed deep in me the idea ofdevotion to the Blessed Virgin, and he led me gradually to believe inthe Real Presence. 

There is one remaining source of my opinions to be mentioned, andthat far from the least important. In proportion as I moved out ofthe shadow of liberalism which had hung over my course, my earlydevotion towards the fathers returned; and in the long vacation of1828 I set about to read them chronologically, beginning with St. Ignatius and St. Justin. About 1830 a proposal was made to me by Mr. Hugh Rose, who with Mr. Lyall (afterwards Dean of Canterbury) wasproviding writers for a theological library, to furnish them with ahistory of the principal councils. I accepted it, and at once set towork on the Council of Nicæa. It was launching myself on an oceanwith currents innumerable; and I was drifted back first to theante-Nicene history, and then to the Church of Alexandria. The workat last appeared under the title of "The Arians of the FourthCentury;" and of its 422 pages, the first 117 consisted ofintroductory matter, and the Council of Nicæa did not appear till the254th, and then occupied at most twenty pages. 

I do not know when I first learnt to consider that antiquity was thetrue exponent of the doctrines of Christianity and the basis of theChurch of England; but I take it for granted that Bishop Bull, whoseworks at this time I read, was my chief introduction to thisprinciple. The course of reading which I pursued in the compositionof my work was directly adapted to develop it in my mind. Whatprincipally attracted me in the ante-Nicene period was the greatChurch of Alexandria, the historical centre of teaching in thosetimes. Of Rome for some centuries comparatively little is known. Thebattle of Arianism was first fought in Alexandria; Athanasius, thechampion of the truth, was Bishop of Alexandria; and in his writingshe refers to the great religious names of an earlier date, to Origen, Dionysius, and others who were the glory of its see, or of itsschool. The broad philosophy of Clement and Origen carried me away;the philosophy, not the theological doctrine; and I have drawn outsome features of it in my volume, with the zeal and freshness, butwith the partiality of a neophyte. Some portions of their teaching, magnificent in themselves, came like music to my inward ear, as ifthe response to ideas, which, with little external to encouragethem, I had cherished so long. These were based on the mysticalor sacramental principle, and spoke of the various economies ordispensations of the eternal. I understood them to mean that theexterior world, physical and historical, was but the outwardmanifestation of realities greater than itself. Nature was aparable:[1] Scripture was an allegory: pagan literature, philosophy, and mythology, properly understood, were but a preparation for theGospel. The Greek poets and sages were in a certain sense prophets;for "thoughts beyond their thought to those high bards were given. "There had been a divine dispensation granted to the Jews; there hadbeen in some sense a dispensation carried on in favour of theGentiles. He who had taken the seed of Jacob for His elect people, had not therefore cast the rest of mankind out of His sight. In thefulness of time both Judaism and Paganism had come to nought; theoutward framework, which concealed yet suggested the living truth, had never been intended to last, and it was dissolving under thebeams of the sun of justice behind it and through it. The process ofchange had been slow; it had been done not rashly, but by rule andmeasure, "at sundry times and in divers manners, " first onedisclosure and then another, till the whole was brought into fullmanifestation. And thus room was made for the anticipation of furtherand deeper disclosures, of truths still under the veil of the letter, and in their season to be revealed. The visible world still remainswithout its divine interpretation; Holy Church in her sacraments andher hierarchical appointments, will remain even to the end of theworld, only a symbol of those heavenly facts which fill eternity. Hermysteries are but the expressions in human language of truths towhich the human mind is unequal. It is evident how much there was inall this in correspondence with the thoughts which had attracted mewhen I was young, and with the doctrine which I have alreadyconnected with the Analogy and the Christian Year. 

I suppose it was to the Alexandrian school and to the early churchthat I owe in particular what I definitely held about the angels. Iviewed them, not only as the ministers employed by the Creator in theJewish and Christian dispensations, as we find on the face ofScripture, but as carrying on, as Scripture also implies, the economyof the visible world. I considered them as the real causes of motion, light, and life, and of those elementary principles of the physicaluniverse, which, when offered in their developments to our senses, suggest to us the notion of cause and effect, and of what are calledthe laws of nature. I have drawn out this doctrine in my sermon forMichaelmas day, written not later than 1834. I say of the angels, "Every breath of air and ray of light and heat, every beautifulprospect, is, as it were, the skirts of their garments, the waving ofthe robes of those whose faces see God. " Again, I ask what would bethe thoughts of a man who, "when examining a flower, or a herb, or apebble, or a ray of light, which he treats as something so beneathhim in the scale of existence, suddenly discovered that he was in thepresence of some powerful being who was hidden behind the visiblethings he was inspecting, who, though concealing his wise hand, wasgiving them their beauty, grace, and perfection, as being God'sinstrument for the purpose, nay, whose robe and ornaments thoseobjects were, which he was so eager to analyse?" and I thereforeremark that "we may say with grateful and simple hearts with theThree Holy Children, 'O all ye works of the Lord, etc. , etc. , blessye the Lord, praise Him, and magnify Him for ever. '"

Also, besides the hosts of evil spirits, I considered there was amiddle race, [greek: daimonia], neither in heaven, nor in hell;partially fallen, capricious, wayward; noble or crafty, benevolent ormalicious, as the case might be. They gave a sort of inspiration orintelligence to races, nations, and classes of men. Hence the actionof bodies politic and associations, which is so different often fromthat of the individuals who compose them. Hence the character andthe instinct of states and governments, of religious communities andcommunions. I thought they were inhabited by unseen intelligences. Mypreference of the Personal to the Abstract would naturally lead me tothis view. I thought it countenanced by the mention of "the Princeof Persia" in the Prophet Daniel; and I think I considered that itwas of such intermediate beings that the Apocalypse spoke, when itintroduced "the Angels of the Seven Churches. "

In 1837 I made a further development of this doctrine. I said to mygreat friend, Samuel Francis Wood, in a letter which came into myhands on his death, "I have an idea. The mass of the Fathers (Justin, Athenagoras, Irenæus, Clement, Tertullian, Origen, Lactantius, Sulpicius, Ambrose, Nazianzen), hold that, though Satan fell from thebeginning, the Angels fell before the deluge, falling in love withthe daughters of men. This has lately come across me as a remarkablesolution of a notion which I cannot help holding. Daniel speaks as ifeach nation had its guardian Angel. I cannot but think that there arebeings with a great deal of good in them, yet with great defects, whoare the animating principles of certain institutions, etc. , etc. .. . Take England, with many high virtues, and yet a low Catholicism. Itseems to me that John Bull is a Spirit neither of heaven nor hell. .. . Has not the Christian Church, in its parts, surrendered itself to oneor other of these simulations of the truth? . .. How are we to avoidScylla and Charybdis and go straight on to the very image of Christ?"etc. , etc. 

I am aware that what I have been saying will, with many men, be doingcredit to my imagination at the expense of my judgment--"Hippoclidesdoesn't care;" I am not setting myself up as a pattern of good senseor of anything else: I am but vindicating myself from the charge ofdishonesty. --There is indeed another view of the economy brought out, in the course of the same dissertation on the subject, in my Historyof the Arians, which has afforded matter for the latter imputation;but I reserve it for the concluding portion of my reply. 

While I was engaged in writing my work upon the Arians, great eventswere happening at home and abroad, which brought out into form andpassionate expression the various beliefs which had so gradually beenwinning their way into my mind. Shortly before, there had been arevolution in France; the Bourbons had been dismissed: and I believedthat it was unchristian for nations to cast off their governors, and, much more, sovereigns who had the divine right of inheritance. Again, the great Reform agitation was going on around me as I wrote. TheWhigs had come into power; Lord Grey had told the Bishops to settheir house in order, and some of the prelates had been insulted andthreatened in the streets of London. The vital question was how werewe to keep the Church from being liberalised? there was such apathyon the subject in some quarters, such imbecile alarm in others; thetrue principles of Churchmanship seemed so radically decayed, andthere was such distraction in the councils of the clergy. The Bishopof London of the day, an active and open-hearted man, had been foryears engaged in diluting the high orthodoxy of the Church by theintroduction of the Evangelical body into places of influence andtrust. He had deeply offended men who agreed with myself, by anoff-hand saying (as it was reported) to the effect that belief in theapostolical succession had gone out with the non-jurors. "We cancount you, " he said to some of the gravest and most venerated personsof the old school. And the Evangelical party itself seemed, withtheir late successes, to have lost that simplicity and unworldlinesswhich I admired so much in Milner and Scott. It was not that I didnot venerate such men as the then Bishop of Lichfield, and others ofsimilar sentiments, who were not yet promoted out of the ranks ofthe clergy, but I thought little of them as a class. I thought theyplayed into the hands of the Liberals. With the Establishment thusdivided and threatened, thus ignorant of its true strength, Icompared that fresh vigorous power of which I was reading in thefirst centuries. In her triumphant zeal on behalf of that PrimevalMystery, to which I had had so great a devotion from my youth, Irecognised the movement of my Spiritual Mother. "Incessu patuit Dea. "The self-conquest of her ascetics, the patience of her martyrs, theirresistible determination of her bishops, the joyous swing of heradvance, both exalted and abashed me. I said to myself, "Look on thispicture and on that;" I felt affection for my own Church, but nottenderness; I felt dismay at her prospects, anger and scorn at herdo-nothing perplexity. I thought that if Liberalism once got afooting within her, it was sure of the victory in the event. I sawthat Reformation principles were powerless to rescue her. As toleaving her, the thought never crossed my imagination; still I everkept before me that there was something greater than the EstablishedChurch, and that that was the Church Catholic and Apostolic, set upfrom the beginning, of which she was but the local presence andorgan. She was nothing, unless she was this. She must be dealt withstrongly, or she would be lost. There was need of a secondReformation. 

At this time I was disengaged from college duties, and my health hadsuffered from the labour involved in the composition of my volume. Itwas ready for the press in July, 1832, though not published till theend of 1833. I was easily persuaded to join Hurrell Froude and hisFather, who were going to the south of Europe for the health of theformer. 

We set out in December, 1832. It was during this expedition that myVerses which are in the Lyra Apostolica were written;--a few indeedbefore it, but not more than one or two of them after it. Exchanging, as I was, definite tutorial labours, and the literary quiet andpleasant friendships of the last six years, for foreign countries andan unknown future, I naturally was led to think that some inwardchanges, as well as some larger course of action, was coming upon me. At Whitchurch, while waiting for the down mail to Falmouth, I wrotethe verses about my Guardian Angel, which begin with these words:"Are these the tracks of some unearthly Friend?" and go on to speakof "the vision" which haunted me:--that vision is more or lessbrought out in the whole series of these compositions. 

I went to various coasts of the Mediterranean, parted with my friendsat Rome; went down for the second time to Sicily, at the end ofApril, and got back to England by Palermo in the early part of July. The strangeness of foreign life threw me back into myself; I foundpleasure in historical sites and beautiful scenes, not in men andmanners. We kept clear of Catholics throughout our tour. I had aconversation with the Dean of Malta, a most pleasant man, latelydead; but it was about the Fathers, and the Library of the greatchurch. I knew the Abbate Santini, at Rome, who did no more than copyfor me the Gregorian tones. Froude and I made two calls uponMonsignore (now Cardinal) Wiseman at the Collegio Inglese, shortlybefore we left Rome. I do not recollect being in a room with anyother ecclesiastics, except a Priest at Castro-Giovanni in Sicily, who called on me when I was ill, and with whom I wished to hold acontroversy. As to Church Services, we attended the Tenebræ, at theSestine, for the sake of the Miserere; and that was all. My generalfeeling was, "All, save the spirit of man, is divine. " I saw nothingbut what was external; of the hidden life of Catholics I knewnothing. I was still more driven back into myself, and felt myisolation. England was in my thoughts solely, and the news fromEngland came rarely and imperfectly. The Bill for the Suppression ofthe Irish Sees was in progress, and filled my mind. I had fiercethoughts against the Liberals. 

It was the success of the Liberal cause which fretted me inwardly. I became fierce against its instruments and its manifestations. AFrench vessel was at Algiers; I would not even look at the tricolour. On my return, though forced to stop a day at Paris, I kept indoorsthe whole time, and all that I saw of that beautiful city, was what Isaw from the Diligence. The Bishop of London had already sounded meas to my filling one of the Whitehall preacherships, which he hadjust then put on a new footing; but I was indignant at the line whichhe was taking, and from my steamer I had sent home a letter decliningthe appointment by anticipation, should it be offered to me. At thistime I was specially annoyed with Dr. Arnold, though it did not lastinto later years. Some one, I think, asked in conversation at Rome, whether a certain interpretation of Scripture was Christian? it wasanswered that Dr. Arnold took it; I interposed, "But is _he_ aChristian?" The subject went out of my head at once; when afterwardsI was taxed with it I could say no more in explanation, than that Ithought I must have been alluding to some free views of Dr. Arnoldabout the Old Testament:--I thought I must have meant, "But who is toanswer for Arnold?" It was at Rome too that we began the LyraApostolica which appeared monthly in the _British Magazine_. Themotto shows the feeling of both Froude and myself at the time: weborrowed from M. Bunsen a Homer, and Froude chose the words in whichAchilles, on returning to the battle, says, "You shall know thedifference, now that I am back again. "

Especially when I was left by myself, the thought came upon me thatdeliverance is wrought, not by the many but by the few, not by bodiesbut by persons. Now it was, I think, that I repeated to myself thewords, which had ever been dear to me from my school days, "Exoriarealiquis!"--now too, that Southey's beautiful poem of Thalaba, forwhich I had an immense liking, came forcibly to my mind. I began tothink that I had a mission. There are sentences of my letters to myfriends to this effect, if they are not destroyed. When we took leaveof Monsignore Wiseman, he had courteously expressed a wish that wemight make a second visit to Rome; I said with great gravity, "Wehave a work to do in England. " I went down at once to Sicily, and thepresentiment grew stronger. I struck into the middle of the island, and fell ill of a fever at Leonforte. My servant thought that I wasdying, and begged for my last directions. I gave them, as he wished;but I said, "I shall not die. " I repeated, "I shall not die, for Ihave not sinned against light, I have not sinned against light. " Inever have been able to make out at all what I meant. 

I got to Castro-Giovanni, and was laid up there for nearly threeweeks. Towards the end of May I set off for Palermo, taking threedays for the journey. Before starting from my inn in the morning ofMay 26th or 27th, I sat down on my bed, and began to sob bitterly. Myservant, who had acted as my nurse, asked what ailed me. I could onlyanswer, "I have a work to do in England. "

I was aching to get home; yet for want of a vessel I was kept atPalermo for three weeks. I began to visit the Churches, and theycalmed my impatience, though I did not attend any services. I knewnothing of the presence of the Blessed Sacrament there. At last I gotoff in an orange boat, bound for Marseilles. We were becalmed a wholeweek in the Straits of Bonifacio. Then it was that I wrote the lines, "Lead, kindly light, " which have since become well known. I waswriting verses the whole time of my passage. At length I got toMarseilles, and set off for England. The fatigue of travelling wastoo much for me, and I was laid up for several days at Lyons. At lastI got off again and did not stop night or day till I reached England, and my mother's house. My brother had arrived from Persia only a fewhours before. This was on the Tuesday. The following Sunday, July14th, Mr. Keble preached the assize Sermon in the University Pulpit. It was published under the title of "National Apostasy. " I have everconsidered and kept the day, as the start of the religious movementof 1833. 

Footnote

[1] _Vid_. Mr. Morris's beautiful poem with this title. 

Part IV

History of My Religious Opinions--1833-1839

In spite of the foregoing pages, I have no romantic story to tell;but I wrote them, because it is my duty to tell things as they tookplace. I have not exaggerated the feelings with which I returned toEngland, and I have no desire to dress up the events which followed, so as to make them in keeping with the narrative which has gonebefore. I soon relapsed into the every-day life which I had hithertoled; in all things the same, except that a new object was given me. I had employed myself in my own rooms in reading and writing, andin the care of a church, before I left England, and I returned tothe same occupations when I was back again. And yet perhaps thosefirst vehement feelings which carried me on were necessary for thebeginning of the movement; and afterwards, when it was once begun, the special need of me was over. 

When I got home from abroad, I found that already a movement hadcommenced in opposition to the specific danger which at that time wasthreatening the religion of the nation and its church. Severalzealous and able men had united their counsels, and were incorrespondence with each other. The principal of these were Mr. Keble, Hurrell Froude, who had reached home long before me, Mr. William Palmer of Dublin and Worcester College (not Mr. W. Palmer ofMagdalen, who is now a Catholic), Mr. Arthur Perceval, and Mr. HughRose. 

To mention Mr. Hugh Rose's name is to kindle in the minds of thosewho knew him, a host of pleasant and affectionate remembrances. Hewas the man above all others fitted by his cast of mind and literarypowers to make a stand, if a stand could be made, against thecalamity of the times. He was gifted with a high and large mind, anda true sensibility of what was great and beautiful; he wrote withwarmth and energy; and he had a cool head and cautious judgment. He spent his strength and shortened his life, Pro Ecclesia Dei, ashe understood that sovereign idea. Some years earlier he had beenthe first to give warning, I think from the university pulpit atCambridge, of the perils to England which lay in the biblical andtheological speculations of Germany. The Reform agitation followed, and the Whig government came into power; and he anticipated in theirdistribution of church patronage the authoritative introduction ofliberal opinions into the country:--by "liberal" I mean liberalism in_religion_, for questions of politics, as such, do not come into thisnarrative at all. He feared that by the Whig party a door would beopened in England to the most grievous of heresies, which never couldbe closed again. In order under such grave circumstances to uniteChurchmen together, and to make a front against the coming danger, hehad in 1832 commenced the _British Magazine_, and in the same year hecame to Oxford in the summer term, in order to beat up for writersfor his publication; on that occasion I became known to him throughMr. Palmer. His reputation and position came in aid of his obviousfitness, in point of character and intellect, to become the centre ofan ecclesiastical movement, if such a movement were to depend on theaction of a party. His delicate health, his premature death, wouldhave frustrated the expectation, even though the new school ofopinion had been more exactly thrown into the shape of a party, thanin fact was the case. But he zealously backed up the first efforts ofthose who were principals in it; and, when he went abroad to die, in 1838, he allowed me the solace of expressing my feelings ofattachment and gratitude to him by addressing him, in the dedicationof a volume of my Sermons, as the man, "who, when hearts werefailing, bade us stir up the gift that was in us, and betakeourselves to our true Mother. "

But there were other reasons, besides Mr. Rose's state of health, which hindered those who so much admired him from availing themselvesof his close co-operation in the coming fight. United as both he andthey were in the general scope of the Movement, they were indiscordance with each other from the first in their estimate of themeans to be adopted for attaining it. Mr. Rose had a position in thechurch, a name, and serious responsibilities; he had directecclesiastical superiors; he had intimate relations with his ownuniversity, and a large clerical connection through the country. Froude and I were nobodies; with no characters to lose, and noantecedents to fetter us. Rose could not go ahead across country, asFroude had no scruples in doing. Froude was a bold rider, as onhorseback, so also in his speculations. After a long conversationwith him on the logical bearing of his principles, Mr. Rose saidof him with quiet humour, that "he did not seem to be afraid ofinferences. " It was simply the truth; Froude had that strong hold offirst principles, and that keen perception of their value, that hewas comparatively indifferent to the revolutionary action which wouldattend on their application to a given state of things; whereas inthe thoughts of Rose, as a practical man, existing facts had theprecedence of every other idea, and the chief test of the soundnessof a line of policy lay in the consideration whether it would work. This was one of the first questions, which, as it seemed to me, everoccurred to his mind. With Froude, Erastianism--that is, the union(so he viewed it) of church and state--was the parent, or if not theparent, the serviceable and sufficient tool, of liberalism. Till thatunion was snapped, Christian doctrine never could be safe; and, whilehe well knew how high and unselfish was the temper of Mr. Rose, yet he used to apply to him an epithet, reproachful in his ownmouth;--Rose was a "conservative. " By bad luck, I brought out thisword to Mr. Rose in a letter of my own, which I wrote to him incriticism of something he had inserted into the Magazine: I got avehement rebuke for my pains, for though Rose pursued a conservativeline, he had as high a disdain, as Froude could have, of a worldlyambition, and an extreme sensitiveness of such an imputation. 

But there was another reason still, and a more elementary one, whichsevered Mr. Rose from the Oxford movement. Living movements do notcome of committees, nor are great ideas worked out through the post, even though it had been the penny post. This principle deeplypenetrated both Froude and myself from the first, and recommendedto us the course which things soon took spontaneously, and withoutset purpose of our own. Universities are the natural centres ofintellectual movements. How could men act together, whatever wastheir zeal, unless they were united in a sort of individuality?Now, first, we had no unity of place. Mr. Rose was in Suffolk, Mr. Perceval in Surrey, Mr. Keble in Gloucestershire; Hurrell Froude hadto go for his health to Barbados. Mr. Palmer indeed was in Oxford;this was an important advantage, and told well in the first months ofthe Movement;--but another condition, besides that of place, wasrequired. 

A far more essential unity was that of antecedents, --a commonhistory, common memories, an intercourse of mind with mind in thepast, and a progress and increase of that intercourse in the present. Mr. Perceval, to be sure, was a pupil of Mr. Keble's; but Keble, Rose, and Palmer, represented distinct parties, or at least tempers, in the Establishment. Mr. Palmer had many conditions of authority andinfluence. He was the only really learned man among us. He understoodtheology as a science; he was practised in the scholastic mode ofcontroversial writing; and I believe, was as well acquainted, as hewas dissatisfied, with the Catholic schools. He was as decided in hisreligious views, as he was cautious and even subtle in theirexpression, and gentle in their enforcement. But he was deficient indepth; and besides, coming from a distance, he never had really growninto an Oxford man, nor was he generally received as such; nor had heany insight into the force of personal influence and congeniality ofthought in carrying out a religious theory, --a condition which Froudeand I considered essential to any true success in the stand which hadto be made against Liberalism. Mr. Palmer had a certain connection, as it may be called, in the Establishment, consisting of high Churchdignitaries, archdeacons, London rectors, and the like, who belongedto what was commonly called the high-and-dry school. They werefar more opposed than even he was to the irresponsible action ofindividuals. Of course their _beau ideal_ in ecclesiastical actionwas a board of safe, sound, sensible men. Mr. Palmer was their organand representative; and he wished for a Committee, an Association, with rules and meetings, to protect the interests of the Church inits existing peril. He was in some measure supported by Mr. Perceval. 

I, on the other hand, had out of my own head begun the Tracts; andthese, as representing the antagonist principle of personality, werelooked upon by Mr. Palmer's friends with considerable alarm. Thegreat point at the time with these good men in London, --some of themmen of the highest principle, and far from influenced by what we usedto call Erastianism, --was to put down the Tracts. I, as their editor, and mainly their author, was not unnaturally willing to give way. Keble and Froude advocated their continuance strongly, and were angrywith me for consenting to stop them. Mr. Palmer shared the anxiety ofhis own friends; and, kind as were his thoughts of us, he still notunnaturally felt, for reasons of his own, some fidget and nervousnessat the course which his Oriel friends were taking. Froude, for whomhe had a real liking, took a high tone in his project of measuresfor dealing with bishops and clergy, which must have shocked andscandalised him considerably. As for me, there was matter enough inthe early Tracts to give him equal disgust; and doubtless I muchtasked his generosity, when he had to defend me, whether against theLondon dignitaries, or the country clergy. Oriel, from the time ofDr. Copleston to Dr. Hampden, had had a name far and wide forliberality of thought; it had received a formal recognition from the_Edinburgh Review_, if my memory serves me truly, as the school ofspeculative philosophy in England; and on one occasion, in 1833, whenI presented myself, with some the first papers of the movement, to acountry clergyman in Northamptonshire, he paused awhile, and then, eyeing me with significance, asked, "Whether Whately was at thebottom of them?"

Mr. Perceval wrote to me in support of the judgment of Mr. Palmer andthe dignitaries. I replied in a letter, which he afterwardspublished. "As to the Tracts, " I said to him (I quote my own wordsfrom his pamphlet), "every one has his own taste. You object tosome things, another to others. If we altered to please every one, the effect would be spoiled. They were not intended as symbols_è cathedrâ_, but as the expression of individual minds; andindividuals, feeling strongly, while on the one hand, they areincidentally faulty in mode or language, are still peculiarlyeffective. No great work was done by a system; whereas systems riseout of individual exertions. Luther was an individual. The veryfaults of an individual excite attention; he loses, but his cause(if good and he powerful-minded) gains. This is the way of things:we promote truth by a self-sacrifice. "

The visit which I made to the Northamptonshire Rector was only one ofa series of similar expedients, which I adopted during the year 1833. I called upon clergy in various parts of the country, whether I wasacquainted with them or not, and I attended at the houses of friendswhere several of them were from time to time assembled. I do notthink that much came of such attempts, nor were they quite in my way. Also I wrote various letters to clergymen, which fared not muchbetter, except that they advertised the fact, that a rally in favourof the church was commencing. I did not care whether my visits weremade to high church or low church; I wished to make a strong pull inunion with all who were opposed to the principles of liberalism, whoever they might be. Giving my name to the editor, I commenced aseries of letters in the _Record_ newspaper: they ran to aconsiderable length; and were borne by him with great courtesy andpatience. They were headed as being on "Church Reform. " The first wason the Revival of Church Discipline; the second, on its Scriptureproof; the third, on the application of the doctrine; the fourth, was an answer to objections; the fifth, was on the benefitsof discipline. And then the series was abruptly brought to atermination. I had said what I really felt, and what was also inkeeping with the strong teaching of the Tracts, but I suppose theEditor discovered in me some divergence from his own line of thought;for at length he sent a very civil letter, apologising for thenon-appearance of my sixth communication, on the ground that itcontained an attack upon "Temperance Societies, " about which he didnot wish a controversy in his columns. He added, however, his seriousregret at the character of the Tracts. I had subscribed a small sumin 1828 towards the first start of the _Record_. 

Acts of the officious character, which I have been describing, wereuncongenial to my natural temper, to the genius of the movement, andto the historical mode of its success:--they were the fruit of thatexuberant and joyous energy with which I had returned from abroad, and which I never had before or since. I had the exultation of healthrestored, and home regained. While I was at Palermo and thought ofthe breadth of the Mediterranean, and the wearisome journey acrossFrance, I could not imagine how I was ever to get to England; but nowI was amid familiar scenes and faces once more. And my health andstrength came back to me with such a rebound, that some friends atOxford, on seeing me, did not well know that it was I, and hesitatedbefore they spoke to me. And I had the consciousness that I wasemployed in that work which I had been dreaming about, and which Ifelt to be so momentous and inspiring. I had a supreme confidence inour cause; we were upholding that primitive Christianity which wasdelivered for all time by the early teachers of the Church, and whichwas registered and attested in the Anglican formularies and by theAnglican divines. That ancient religion had well nigh faded away outof the land, through the political changes of the last 150 years, andit must be restored. It would be in fact a second Reformation:--abetter reformation, for it would be a return not to the sixteenthcentury, but to the seventeenth. No time was to be lost, for theWhigs had come to do their worst, and the rescue might come too late. Bishopricks were already in course of suppression; Church propertywas in course of confiscation; sees would soon be receivingunsuitable occupants. We knew enough to begin preaching upon, andthere was no one else to preach. I felt as on a vessel, which firstgets under weigh, and then the deck is cleared out, and the luggageand live stock stored away into their proper receptacles. 

Nor was it only that I had confidence in our cause, both in itself, and in its controversial force, but besides, I despised every rivalsystem of doctrine and its arguments. As to the high church and thelow church, I thought that the one had not much more of a logicalbasis than the other; while I had a thorough contempt for theevangelical. I had a real respect for the character of many of theadvocates of each party, but that did not give cogency to theirarguments; and I thought on the other hand that the apostolical formof doctrine was essential and imperative, and its grounds of evidenceimpregnable. Owing to this confidence, it came to pass at that time, that there was a double aspect in my bearing towards others, which itis necessary for me to enlarge upon. My behaviour had a mixture in itboth of fierceness and of sport; and on this account, I dare say, itgave offence to many; nor am I here defending it. 

I wished men to a agree with me, and I walked with them step by step, as far as they would go; this I did sincerely; but if they wouldstop, I did not much care about it, but walked on, with somesatisfaction that I had brought them so far. I liked to make thempreach the truth without knowing it, and encouraged them to do so. Itwas a satisfaction to me that the _Record_ had allowed me to say somuch in its columns, without remonstrance. I was amused to hear ofone of the bishops, who, on reading an early Tract on the ApostolicalSuccession, could not make up his mind whether he held the doctrineor not. I was not distressed at the wonder or anger of dull andself-conceited men, at propositions which they did not understand. When a correspondent, in good faith, wrote to a newspaper, to saythat the "Sacrifice of the Holy Eucharist, " spoken of in the Tract, was a false print for "Sacrament, " I thought the mistake too pleasantto be corrected before I was asked about it. I was not unwilling todraw an opponent on step by step to the brink of some intellectualabsurdity, and to leave him to get back as he could. I was notunwilling to play with a man, who asked me impertinent questions. Ithink I had in my mouth the words of the wise man, "Answer a foolaccording to his folly, " especially if he was prying or spiteful. Iwas reckless of the gossip which was circulated about me; and, when Imight easily have set it right, did not deign to do so. Also I usedirony in conversation, when matter-of-fact men would not see what Imeant. 

This kind of behaviour was a sort of habit with me. If I have evertrifled with my subject, it was a more serious fault. I never usedarguments which I saw clearly to be unsound. The nearest approachwhich I remember to such conduct, but which I consider was clear ofit nevertheless, was in the case of Tract 15. The matter of thisTract was supplied to me by a friend, to whom I had applied forassistance, but who did not wish to be mixed up with the publication. He gave it me, that I might throw it into shape, and I took hisarguments as they stood. In the chief portion of the Tract I fullyagreed; for instance, as to what it says about the Council of Trent;but there were arguments, or some argument, in it which I did notfollow; I do not recollect what it was. Froude, I think, wasdisgusted with the whole Tract, and accused me of _economy_ inpublishing it. It is principally through Mr. Froude's Remains thatthis word has got into our language. I think I defended myself witharguments such as these:--that, as every one knew, the Tracts werewritten by various persons who agreed together in their doctrine, butnot always in the arguments by which it was to be proved; that wemust be tolerant of difference of opinion among ourselves; that theauthor of the Tract had a right to his own opinion, and that theargument in question was ordinarily received; that I did not give myown name or authority, nor was asked for my personal belief, but onlyacted instrumentally, as one might translate a friend's book into aforeign language. I account these to be good arguments; neverthelessI feel also that such practices admit of easy abuse and areconsequently dangerous; but then again, I feel also this, --that ifall such mistakes were to be severely visited, not many men in publiclife would be left with a character for honour and honesty. 

This absolute confidence in my cause, which led me to the imprudenceor wantonness which I have been instancing, also laid me open, notunfairly, to the opposite charge of fierceness in certain steps whichI took, or words which I published. In the Lyra Apostolica, I havesaid that, before learning to love, we must "learn to hate;" though Ihad explained my words by adding "hatred of sin. " In one of my firstsermons I said, "I do not shrink from uttering my firm convictionthat it would be a gain to the country were it vastly moresuperstitious, more bigoted, more gloomy, more fierce in its religionthan at present it shows itself to be. " I added, of course, that itwould be an absurdity to suppose such tempers of mind desirable inthemselves. The corrector of the press bore these strong epithetstill he got to "more fierce, " and then he put in the margin a_query_. In the very first page of the first Tract, I said of thebishops, that, "black event though it would be for the country, yetwe could not wish them a more blessed termination of their course, than the spoiling of their goods and martyrdom. " In consequence of apassage in my work upon the Arian History, a Northern dignitary wroteto accuse me of wishing to re-establish the blood and torture of theInquisition. Contrasting heretics and heresiarchs, I had said, "Thelatter should meet with no mercy; he assumes the office of theTempter, and, so far forth as his error goes, must be dealt with bythe competent authority, as if he were embodied evil. To spare him isa false and dangerous pity. It is to endanger the souls of thousands, and it is uncharitable towards himself. " I cannot deny that this is avery fierce passage; but Arius was banished, not burned; and it isonly fair to myself to say that neither at this, nor any other timeof my life, not even when I was fiercest, could I have even cut off aPuritan's ears, and I think the sight of a Spanish _auto-da-fé_ wouldhave been the death of me. Again, when one of my friends, of liberaland evangelical opinions, wrote to expostulate with me on the courseI was taking, I said that we would ride over him and his, as Othnielprevailed over Chushan-rishathaim, king of Mesopotamia. Again, Iwould have no dealings with my brother, and I put my conduct upon asyllogism. I said, "St. Paul bids us avoid those who cause divisions;you cause divisions: therefore I must avoid you. " I dissuaded a ladyfrom attending the marriage of a sister who had seceded from theAnglican Church. No wonder that Blanco White, who had known me undersuch different circumstances, now hearing the general course that Iwas taking, was amazed at the change which he recognised in me. Hespeaks bitterly and unfairly of me in his letters contemporaneouslywith the first years of the Movement; but in 1839, when looking back, he uses terms of me, which it would be hardly modest in me to quote, were it not that what he says of me in praise is but part of a wholeaccount of me. He says: "In this party [the anti-Peel, in 1829] Ifound, to my great surprise, my dear friend, Mr. Newman of Oriel. Ashe had been one of the annual Petitioners to Parliament for CatholicEmancipation, his sudden union with the most violent bigots wasinexplicable to me. That change was the first manifestation of themental revolution, which has suddenly made him one of the leadingpersecutors of Dr. Hampden and the most active and influential memberof that association, called the Puseyite party, from which we havethose very strange productions, entitled, Tracts for the Times. Whilestating these public facts, my heart feels a pang at the recollectionof the affectionate and mutual friendship between that excellent manand myself; a friendship, which his principles of orthodoxy could notallow him to continue in regard to one, whom he now regards asinevitably doomed to eternal perdition. Such is the venomouscharacter of orthodoxy. What mischief must it create in a bad heartand narrow mind, when it can work so effectually for evil, in one ofthe most benevolent of bosoms, and one of the ablest of minds, in theamiable, the intellectual, the refined John Henry Newman!" (Vol. Iii. P. 131. ) He adds that I would have nothing to do with him, acircumstance which I do not recollect, and very much doubt. 

I have spoken of my firm confidence in my position; and now let mestate more definitely what the position was which I took up, and thepropositions about which I was so confident. These were three:--

1. First was the principle of dogma: my battle was with liberalism;by liberalism I meant the anti-dogmatic principle and itsdevelopments. This was the first point on which I was certain. Here Imake a remark: persistence in a given belief is no sufficient test ofits truth; but departure from it is at least a slur upon the man whohas felt so certain about it. In proportion then as I had in 1832 astrong persuasion in beliefs which I have since given up, so far asort of guilt attaches to me, not only for that vain confidence, butfor my multiform conduct in consequence of it. But here I have thesatisfaction of feeling that I have nothing to retract, and nothingto repent of. The main principle of the Movement is as dear to me nowas it ever was. I have changed in many things: in this I have not. From the age of fifteen, dogma has been the fundamental principle ofmy religion: I know no other religion; I cannot enter into the ideaof any other sort of religion; religion, as a mere sentiment, is tome a dream and a mockery. As well can there be filial love withoutthe fact of a father, as devotion without the fact of a SupremeBeing. What I held in 1816, I held in 1833, and I hold in 1864. Please God, I shall hold it to the end. Even when I was under Dr. Whately's influence, I had no temptation to be less zealous for thegreat dogmas of the faith, and at various times I used to resist suchtrains of thought on his part, as seemed to me (rightly or wrongly)to obscure them. Such was the fundamental principle of the Movementof 1833. 

2. Secondly, I was confident in the truth of a certain definitereligious teaching, based upon this foundation of dogma; viz. Thatthere was a visible church with sacraments and rites which are thechannels of invisible grace. I thought that this was the doctrine ofScripture, of the early Church, and of the Anglican Church. Hereagain, I have not changed in opinion; I am as certain now on thispoint as I was in 1833, and have never ceased to be certain. In 1834and the following years I put this ecclesiastical doctrine on abroader basis, after reading Laud, Bramhall, and Stillingfleet andother Anglican divines on the one hand, and after prosecuting thestudy of the Fathers on the other; but the doctrine of 1833 wasstrengthened in me, not changed. When I began the Tracts for theTimes I rested the main doctrine, of which I am speaking, uponScripture, on St. Ignatius's Epistles, and on the Anglican PrayerBook. As to the existence of a visible church, I especially arguedout the point from Scripture, in Tract 11, viz. From the Acts of theApostles and the Epistles. As to the sacraments and sacramentalrites, I stood on the Prayer Book. I appealed to the OrdinationService, in which the Bishop says, "Receive the Holy Ghost;" to theVisitation Service, which teaches confession and absolution; to theBaptismal Service, in which the Priest speaks of the child afterbaptism as regenerate; to the Catechism, in which SacramentalCommunion is receiving "verily the Body and Blood of Christ;" to theCommination Service, in which we are told to do "works of penance;"to the Collects, Epistles, and Gospels, to the calendar and rubricks, wherein we find the festivals of the apostles, notice of certainother saints, and days of fasting and abstinence. 

And further, as to the Episcopal system, I founded it upon theEpistles of St. Ignatius, which inculcated it in various ways. Onepassage especially impressed itself upon me: speaking of cases ofdisobedience to ecclesiastical authority, he says, "A man does notdeceive that Bishop whom he sees, but he practises rather upon theBishop Invisible, and so the question is not with flesh, but withGod, who knows the secret heart. " I wished to act on this principleto the letter, and I may say with confidence that I never consciouslytransgressed it. I loved to act in the sight of my bishop, as if Iwas, as it were, in the sight of God. It was one of my specialsafeguards against myself and of my supports; I could not go verywrong while I had reason to believe that I was in no respectdispleasing him. It was not a mere formal obedience to rule that Iput before me, but I desired to please him personally, as Iconsidered him set over me by the Divine Hand. I was strict inobserving my clerical engagements, not only because they _were_engagements, but because I considered myself simply as the servantand instrument of my bishop. I did not care much for the bench ofbishops, except as they might be the voice of my Church: nor should Ihave cared much for a Provincial Council; nor for a Diocesan Synodpresided over by my Bishop; all these matters seemed to me to be_jure ecclesiastico_, but what to me was _jure divino_ was the voiceof my bishop in his own person. My own bishop was my pope; I knew noother; the successor of the apostles, the vicar of Christ. This wasbut a practical exhibition of the Anglican theory of ChurchGovernment, as I had already drawn it out myself. This continued allthrough my course; when at length in 1845 I wrote to Bishop Wiseman, in whose Vicariate I found myself, to announce my conversion, I couldfind nothing better to say to him, than that I would obey the Pope asI had obeyed my own Bishop in the Anglican Church. My duty to him wasmy point of honour; his disapprobation was the one thing which Icould not bear. I believe it to have been a generous and honestfeeling; and in consequence I was rewarded by having all my time forecclesiastical superior a man, whom had I had a choice, I should havepreferred, out and out, to any other Bishop on the Bench, and forwhose memory I have a special affection, Dr. Bagot--a man of noblemind, and as kind-hearted and as considerate as he was noble. He eversympathised with me in my trials which followed; it was my own fault, that I was not brought into more familiar personal relations with himthan it was my happiness to be. May his name be ever blessed!

And now in concluding my remarks on the second point on which myconfidence rested, I observe that here again I have no retractationto announce as to its main outline. While I am now as clear in myacceptance of the principle of dogma, as I was in 1833 and 1816, so again I am now as firm in my belief of a visible church, ofthe authority of bishops, of the grace of the sacraments, of thereligious worth of works of penance, as I was in 1833. I have addedArticles to my creed; but the old ones, which I then held with adivine faith, remain. 

3. But now, as to the third point on which I stood in 1833, and whichI have utterly renounced and trampled upon since--my then view of theChurch of Rome;--I will speak about it as exactly as I can. When Iwas young, as I have said already, and after I was grown up, Ithought the Pope to be Antichrist. At Christmas 1824-5 I preached asermon to that effect. In 1827 I accepted eagerly the stanza in theChristian Year, which many people thought too charitable, "Speak_gently_ of thy sister's fall. " From the time that I knew Froude Igot less and less bitter on the subject. I spoke (successively, but Icannot tell in what order or at what dates) of the Roman Church asbeing bound up with "the _cause_ of Antichrist, " as being _one_ ofthe "_many_ antichrists" foretold by St. John, as being influenced by"the _spirit_ of Antichrist, " and as having something "veryAntichristian" or "unchristian" about her. From my boyhood and in1824 I considered, after Protestant authorities, that St. Gregory I. About A. D. 600 was the first Pope that was Antichrist, and again thathe was also a great and holy man; in 1832-3 I thought the Church ofRome was bound up with the cause of Antichrist by the Council ofTrent. When it was that in my deliberate judgment I gave up thenotion altogether in any shape, that some special reproach wasattached to her name, I cannot tell; but I had a shrinking fromrenouncing it, even when my reason so ordered me, from a sort ofconscience or prejudice, I think up to 1843. Moreover, at leastduring the Tract Movement, I thought the essence of her offence toconsist in the honours which she paid to the Blessed Virgin and thesaints; and the more I grew in devotion, both to the saints and toOur Lady, the more impatient was I at the Roman practices, as ifthose glorified creations of God must be gravely shocked, if paincould be theirs, at the undue veneration of which they were theobjects. 

On the other hand, Hurrell Froude in his familiar conversations wasalways tending to rub the idea out of my mind. In a passage of one ofhis letters from abroad, alluding, I suppose, to what I used to sayin opposition to him, he observes: "I think people are injudiciouswho talk against the Roman Catholics for worshipping Saints, andhonouring the Virgin and images, etc. These things may perhaps beidolatrous; I cannot make up my mind about it; but to my mind itis the Carnival that is real practical idolatry, as it is written, 'the people sat down to eat and drink, and rose up to play. '" Thecarnival, I observe in passing, is, in fact, one of those veryexcesses, to which, for at least three centuries, religious Catholicshave ever opposed themselves, as we see in the life of St. Philip, tosay nothing of the present day; but this he did not know. Moreover, from Froude I learned to admire the great medieval Pontiffs; and, ofcourse, when I had come to consider the Council of Trent to be theturning-point of the history of Christian Rome, I found myself asfree, as I was rejoiced, to speak in their praise. Then, when I wasabroad, the sight of so many great places, venerable shrines, andnoble churches, much impressed my imagination. And my heart wastouched also. Making an expedition on foot across some wild countryin Sicily, at six in the morning I came upon a small church; I heardvoices, and I looked in. It was crowded, and the congregation wassinging. Of course it was the Mass, though I did not know it at thetime. And, in my weary days at Palermo, I was not ungrateful for thecomfort which I had received in frequenting the Churches, nor did Iever forget it. Then, again, her zealous maintenance of the doctrineand the rule of celibacy, which I recognised as apostolic, and herfaithful agreement with Antiquity in so many points besides, whichwere dear to me, was an argument as well as a plea in favour of thegreat Church of Rome. Thus I learned to have tender feelings towardsher; but still my reason was not affected at all. My judgment wasagainst her, when viewed as an institution, as truly as it ever hadbeen. 

This conflict between reason and affection I expressed in one of theearly Tracts, published July, 1834. "Considering the high gifts andthe strong claims of the Church of Rome and its dependencies on ouradmiration, reverence, love, and gratitude; how could we withstandit, as we do, how could we refrain from being melted into tenderness, and rushing into communion with it, but for the words of Truthitself, which bid us prefer It to the whole world? 'He that lovethfather or mother more than Me, is not worthy of Me. ' How could 'welearn to be severe, and execute judgment, ' but for the warning ofMoses against even a divinely-gifted teacher, who should preach newgods; and the anathema of St. Paul even against Angels and Apostles, who should bring in a new doctrine?"--_Records_, No. 24. My feelingwas something like that of a man, who is obliged in a court ofjustice to bear witness against a friend; or like my own now, when Ihave said, and shall say, so many things on which I had rather besilent. 

As a matter, then, of simple conscience, though it went against myfeelings, I felt it to be a duty to protest against the Church ofRome. But besides this, it was a duty, because the prescription ofsuch a protest was a living principle of my own church, as expressedin not simply a _catena_, but a _consensus_ of her divines, and thevoice of her people. Moreover, such a protest was necessary as anintegral portion of her controversial basis; for I adopted theargument of Bernard Gilpin, that Protestants "were _not able_ to giveany _firm and solid_ reason of the separation besides this, to wit, that the Pope is Antichrist. " But while I thus thought such a protestto be based upon truth, and to be a religious duty, and a rule ofAnglicanism, and a necessity of the case, I did not at all like thework. Hurrell Froude attacked me for doing it; and, besides, I feltthat my language had a vulgar and rhetorical look about it. Ibelieved, and really measured, my words, when I used them; but I knewthat I had a temptation, on the other hand, to say against Rome asmuch as ever I could, in order to protect myself against the chargeof Popery. 

And now I come to the very point, for which I have introduced thesubject of my feelings about Rome. I felt such confidence in thesubstantial justice of the charges which I advanced against her, thatI considered them to be a safeguard and an assurance that no harmcould ever arise from the freest exposition of what I used to callAnglican principles. All the world was astounded at what Froude and Iwere saying: men said that it was sheer Popery. I answered, "True, weseem to be making straight for it; but go on awhile, and you willcome to a deep chasm across the path, which makes real approximationimpossible. " And I urged in addition, that many Anglican divines hadbeen accused of Popery, yet had died in their Anglicanism;--now, theecclesiastical principles which I professed, they had professed also;and the judgment against Rome which they had formed, I had formedalso. Whatever faults then the Anglican system might have, andhowever boldly I might point them out, anyhow that system was notvulnerable on the side of Rome, and might be mended in spite of her. In that very agreement of the two forms of faith, close as it mightseem, would really be found, on examination, the elements andprinciples of an essential discordance. 

It was with this supreme persuasion on my mind that I fancied thatthere could be no rashness in giving to the world in fullest measurethe teaching and the writings of the Fathers. I thought that theChurch of England was substantially founded upon them. I did not knowall that the Fathers had said, but I felt that, even when theirtenets happened to differ from the Anglican, no harm could come ofreporting them. I said out what I was clear they had said; I spokevaguely and imperfectly, of what I thought they said, or what someof them had said. Anyhow, no harm could come of bending the crookedstick the other way, in the process of straightening it; it wasimpossible to break it. If there was anything in the Fathers of astartling character, it would be only for a time; it would admit ofexplanation; it could not lead to Rome. I express this view of thematter in a passage of the preface to the first volume, which Iedited, of the Library of the Fathers. Speaking of the strangeness atfirst sight, presented to the Anglican mind, of some of theirprinciples and opinions, I bid the reader go forward hopefully, andnot indulge his criticism till he knows more about them, than he willlearn at the outset. "Since the evil, " I say, "is in the nature ofthe case itself, we can do no more than have patience, and recommendpatience to others, and, with the racer in the Tragedy, look forwardsteadily and hopefully to the _event_, [greek: tô telei pistin pherôn], when, as we trust, all that is inharmonious and anomalous in thedetails, will at length be practically smoothed. "

Such was the position, such the defences, such the tactics, by whichI thought that it was both incumbent on us, and possible to us, tomeet that onset of liberal principles, of which we were all inimmediate anticipation, whether in the Church or in the University. And during the first year of the Tracts, the attack upon theUniversity began. In November 1834 was sent to me by the author thesecond edition of a pamphlet entitled, "Observations on ReligiousDissent, with particular reference to the use of religious tests inthe University. " In this pamphlet it was maintained, that "Religionis distinct from Theological Opinion" (pp. 1, 28, 30, etc. ); that itis but a common prejudice to identify theological propositionsmethodically deduced and stated, with the simple religion of Christ(p. 1); that under Theological Opinion were to be placed theTrinitarian doctrine (p. 27), and the Unitarian (p. 19); that a dogmawas a theological opinion insisted on (pp. 20, 21); that speculationalways left an opening for improvement (p. 22); that the Church ofEngland was not dogmatic in its spirit, though the wording of itsformularies may often carry the sound of dogmatism (p. 23). 

I acknowledged the receipt of this work in the following letter:--

"The kindness which has led to your presenting me with your latepamphlet, encourages me to hope that you will forgive me, if I takethe opportunity it affords of expressing to you my very sincere anddeep regret that it has been published. Such an opportunity I couldnot let slip without being unfaithful to my own serious thoughts onthe subject. 

"While I respect the tone of piety which the pamphlet displays, Idare not trust myself to put on paper my feelings about theprinciples contained in it; tending, as they do, in my opinion, altogether to make shipwreck of Christian faith. I also lament, that, by its appearance, the first step has been taken towards interruptingthat peace and mutual good understanding which has prevailed so longin this place, and which, if once seriously disturbed, will besucceeded by dissensions the more intractable, because justified inthe minds of those who resist innovation by a feeling of imperativeduty. "

Since that time Phaeton has got into the chariot of the sun; we, alas! can only look on, and watch him down the steep of heaven. Meanwhile, the lands, which he is passing over, suffer from hisdriving. 

Such was the commencement of the assault of liberalism upon the oldorthodoxy of Oxford and England; and it could not have been broken, as it was, for so long a time, had not a great change taken place inthe circumstances of that counter-movement which had already startedwith the view of resisting it. For myself, I was not the person totake the lead of a party; I never was, from first to last, more thana leading author of a school; nor did I ever wish to be anythingelse. This is my own account of the matter, and I say it, neither asintending to disown the responsibility of what was done, nor as ifungrateful to those who at that time made more of me than I deserved, and did more for my sake and at my bidding than I realised myself. I am giving my history from my own point of sight, and it is asfollows:--I had lived for ten years among my personal friends; thegreater part of the time, I had been influenced, not influencing; andat no time have I acted on others, without their acting upon me. Asis the custom of a university, I had lived with my private, nay, withsome of my public, pupils, and with the junior fellows of my college, without form or distance, on a footing of equality. Thus it wasthrough friends, younger, for the most part, than myself, that myprinciples were spreading. They heard what I said in conversation, and told it to others. Undergraduates in due time took their degree, and became private tutors themselves. In this new _status_, in turn, they preached the opinions which they had already learned themselves. Others went down to the country, and became curates of parishes. Then they had down from London parcels of the Tracts, and otherpublications. They placed them in the shops of local booksellers, got them into newspapers, introduced them to clerical meetings, andconverted more or less their rectors and their brother curates. Thusthe Movement, viewed with relation to myself, was but a floatingopinion; it was not a power. It never would have been a power, if ithad remained in my hands. Years after, a friend, writing to me inremonstrance at the excesses, as he thought them, of my disciples, applied to me my own verse about St. Gregory Nazianzen, "Thou couldsta people raise, but couldst not rule. " At the time that he wrote tome, I had special impediments in the way of such an exercise ofpower; but at no time could I exercise over others that authority, which under the circumstances was imperatively required. My greatprinciple ever was, live and let live. I never had the staidness ordignity necessary for a leader. To the last I never recognised thehold I had over young men. Of late years I have read and heard thatthey even imitated me in various ways. I was quite unconscious of it, and I think my immediate friends knew too well how disgusted I shouldbe at the news, to have the heart to tell me. I felt great impatienceat our being called a party, and would not allow that we were. I hada lounging, free-and-easy way of carrying things on. I exercised nosufficient censorship upon the Tracts. I did not confine them to thewritings of such persons as agreed in all things with myself; and, asto my own Tracts, I printed on them a notice to the effect, that anyone who pleased, might make what use he would of them, and reprintthem with alterations if he chose, under the conviction that theirmain scope could not be damaged by such a process. It was the sameafterwards, as regards other publications. For two years I furnisheda certain number of sheets for the _British Critic_ from myself andmy friends, while a gentleman was editor, a man of splendid talent, who, however, was scarcely an acquaintance of mine, and had nosympathy with the Tracts. When I was Editor myself, from 1838 to1841, in my very first number, I suffered to appear a critiqueunfavourable to my work on Justification, which had been published afew months before, from a feeling of propriety, because I had put thebook into the hands of the writer who so handled it. Afterwards Isuffered an article against the Jesuits to appear in it, of which Idid not like the tone. When I had to provide a curate for my newchurch at Littlemore, I engaged a friend, by no fault of his, who, before he entered into his charge, preached a sermon, either indepreciation of baptismal regeneration, or of Dr. Pusey's view of it. I showed a similar easiness as to the editors who helped me in theseparate volumes of Fleury's Church History; they were able, learned, and excellent men, but their after history has shown, how little mychoice of them was influenced by any notion I could have had of anyintimate agreement of opinion between them and myself. I shall haveto make the same remark in its place concerning the Lives of theEnglish Saints, which subsequently appeared. All this may seeminconsistent with what I have said of my fierceness. I am not boundto account for it; but there have been men before me, fierce in act, yet tolerant and moderate in their reasonings; at least, so I readhistory. However, such was the case, and such its effect upon theTracts. These at first starting were short, hasty, and some of themineffective; and at the end of the year, when collected into avolume, they had a slovenly appearance. 

It was under these circumstances, that Dr. Pusey joined us. Ihad known him well since 1827-8, and had felt for him anenthusiastic admiration. I used to call him [greek: hô megas]. His great learning, his immense diligence, his scholarlike mind, hissimple devotion to the cause of religion, overcame me; and greatof course was my joy, when in the last days of 1833 he showed adisposition to make common cause with us. His tract on Fastingappeared as one of the series with the date of December 21. He wasnot, however, I think fully associated in the Movement till 1835 and1836, when he published his tract on Baptism, and started the Libraryof the Fathers. He at once gave to us a position and a name. Withouthim we should have had no chance, especially at the early date of1834, of making any serious resistance to the liberal aggression. But Dr. Pusey was a Professor and Canon of Christ Church; he had avast influence in consequence of his deep religious seriousness, the munificence of his charities, his Professorship, his familyconnections, and his easy relations with university authorities. He was to the Movement all that Mr. Rose might have been, with thatindispensable addition, which was wanting to Mr. Rose, the intimatefriendship and the familiar daily society of the persons who hadcommenced it. And he had that special claim on their attachment, which lies in the living presence of a faithful and loyalaffectionateness. There was henceforth a man who could be thehead and centre of the zealous people in every part of the country, who were adopting the new opinions; and not only so, but there wasone who furnished the Movement with a front to the world, and gainedfor it a recognition from other parties in the University. In1829 Mr. Froude, or Mr. R. Wilberforce, or Mr. Newman were butindividuals; and, when they ranged themselves in the contest of thatyear on the side of Sir Robert Inglis, men on either side only askedwith surprise how they got there, and attached no significancy tothe fact; but Dr. Pusey was, to use the common expression, a host inhimself; he was able to give a name, a form, and a personality towhat was without him a sort of mob; and when various parties had tomeet together in order to resist the liberal acts of the Government, we of the Movement took our place by right among them. 

Such was the benefit which he conferred on the Movement externally;nor was the internal advantage at all inferior to it. He was a man oflarge designs; he had a hopeful, sanguine mind; he had no fear ofothers; he was haunted by no intellectual perplexities. People areapt to say that he was once nearer to the Catholic Church than he isnow; I pray God that he may be one day far nearer to the CatholicChurch than he was then; for I believe that, in his reason andjudgment, all the time that I knew him, he never was near to it atall. When I became a Catholic, I was often asked, "What of Dr. Pusey?" when I said that I did not see symptoms of his doing as Ihad done, I was sometimes thought uncharitable. If confidence in hisposition is (as it is), a first essential in the leader of a party, Dr. Pusey had it. The most remarkable instance of this, was hisstatement, in one of his subsequent defences of the Movement, whentoo it had advanced a considerable way in the direction of Rome, thatamong its hopeful peculiarities was its "stationariness. " He made itin good faith; it was his subjective view of it. 

Dr. Pusey's influence was felt at once. He saw that there ought to bemore sobriety, more gravity, more careful pains, more sense ofresponsibility in the Tracts and in the whole Movement. It wasthrough him that the character of the Tracts was changed. When hegave to us his Tract on Fasting, he put his initials to it. In 1835he published his elaborate treatise on Baptism, which was followed byother Tracts from different authors, if not of equal learning, yet ofequal power and appositeness. The Catenas of Anglican divines whichoccur in the series, though projected, I think, by me, were executedwith a like aim at greater accuracy and method. In 1836 he advertisedhis great project for a Translation of the Fathers:--but I mustreturn to myself. I am not writing the history either of Dr. Pusey orof the Movement; but it is a pleasure to me to have been able tointroduce here reminiscences of the place which he held in it, whichhave so direct a bearing on myself, that they are no digression frommy narrative. 

I suspect it was Dr. Pusey's influence and example which set me, andmade me set others, on the larger and more careful works in defenceof the principles of the Movement which followed in a course ofyears, --some of them demanding and receiving from their authors, suchelaborate treatment that they did not make their appearance till bothits temper and its fortunes had changed. I set about a work at once;one in which was brought out with precision the relation in which westood to the Church of Rome. We could not move a step in comfort tillthis was done. It was of absolute necessity and a plain duty, toprovide as soon as possible a large statement, which would encourageand re-assure our friends, and repel the attacks of our opponents. Acry was heard on all sides of us, that the Tracts and the writings ofthe Fathers would lead us to become Catholics, before we were awareof it. This was loudly expressed by members of the Evangelical party, who in 1836 had joined us in making a protest in Convocation againsta memorable appointment of the Prime Minister. These clergymen eventhen avowed their desire, that the next time they were brought up toOxford to give a vote, it might be in order to put down the popery ofthe Movement. There was another reason still, and quite as important. Monsignore Wiseman, with the acuteness and zeal which might beexpected from that great prelate, had anticipated what was coming, had returned to England in 1836, had delivered lectures in London onthe doctrines of Catholicism, and created an impression through thecountry, shared in by ourselves, that we had for our opponentsin controversy, not only our brethren, but our hereditary foes. These were the circumstances, which led to my publication of "TheProphetical office of the Church viewed relatively to Romanism andPopular Protestantism. "

This work employed me for three years, from the beginning of 1834 tothe end of 1836. It was composed, after a careful consideration andcomparison of the principal Anglican divines of the seventeenthcentury. It was first written in the shape of controversialcorrespondence with a learned French Priest; then it was re-cast, anddelivered in Lectures at St. Mary's: lastly, with considerableretrenchments and additions, it was re-written for publication. 

It attempts to trace out the rudimental lines on which Christianfaith and teaching proceed, and to use them as means of determiningthe relation of the Roman and Anglican systems to each other. In thisway it shows that to confuse the two together is impossible, and thatthe Anglican can be as little said to tend to the Roman, as the Romanto the Anglican. The spirit of the volume is not so gentle to theChurch of Rome, as Tract 71 published the year before; on thecontrary, it is very fierce; and this I attribute to the circumstancethat the volume is theological and didactic, whereas the Tract, beingcontroversial, assumes as little and grants as much as possible onthe points in dispute, and insists on points of agreement as well asof difference. A further and more direct reason is, that in my volumeI deal with "Romanism" (as I call it), not so much in its formaldecrees and in the substance of its creed, as in its traditionalaction and its authorised teaching as represented by its prominentwriters;--whereas the Tract is written as if discussing thedifferences of the Churches with a view to a reconciliation betweenthem. There is a further reason too, which I will state presently. 

But this volume had a larger scope than that of opposing the Romansystem. It was an attempt at commencing a system of theology on theAnglican idea, and based upon Anglican authorities. Mr. Palmer, aboutthe same time, was projecting a work of a similar nature in his ownway. It was published, I think, under the title, "A Treatise on theChristian Church. " As was to be expected from the author, it was amost learned, most careful composition; and in its form, I shouldsay, polemical. So happily at least did he follow the logical methodof the Roman Schools, that Father Perrone in his treatise on dogmatictheology, recognised in him a combatant of the true cast, and salutedhim as a foe worthy of being vanquished. Other soldiers in that fieldhe seems to have thought little better than the _lanzknechts_ of themiddle ages, and, I dare say, with very good reason. When I knew thatexcellent and kind-hearted man at Rome at a later time, he allowed meto put him to ample penance for those light thoughts of me, which hehad once had, by encroaching on his valuable time with my theologicalquestions. As to Mr. Palmer's book, it was one which no Anglicancould write but himself, --in no sense, if I recollect aright, atentative work. The ground of controversy was cut into squares, andthen every objection had its answer. This is the proper method toadopt in teaching authoritatively young men; and the work in fact wasintended for students in theology. My own book, on the other hand, was of a directly tentative and empirical character. I wished tobuild up an Anglican theology out of the stores which already lay cutand hewn upon the ground, the past toil of great divines. To do thiscould not be the work of one man; much less, could it be at oncereceived into Anglican theology, however well it was done. I fullytrusted that my statements of doctrine would turn out true andimportant; yet I wrote, to use the common phrase, "under correction. "

There was another motive for my publishing, of a personal nature, which I think I should mention. I felt then, and all along felt, thatthere was an intellectual cowardice in not having a basis in reasonfor my belief, and a moral cowardice in not avowing that basis. Ishould have felt myself less than a man, if I did not bring it out, whatever it was. This is one principal reason why I wrote andpublished the "Prophetical Office. " It was on the same feeling, thatin the spring of 1836, at a meeting of residents on the subject ofthe struggle then proceeding some one wanted us all merely to act oncollege and conservative grounds (as I understood him), with as fewpublished statements as possible: I answered, that the person whom wewere resisting had committed himself in writing, and that we oughtto commit ourselves too. This again was a main reason for thepublication of Tract 90. Alas! it was my portion for whole years toremain without any satisfactory basis for my religious profession, ina state of moral sickness, neither able to acquiesce in Anglicanism, nor able to go to Rome. But I bore it, till in course of time my waywas made clear to me. If here it be objected to me, that as time wenton, I often in my writings hinted at things which I did not fullybring out, I submit for consideration whether this occurred exceptwhen I was in great difficulties, how to speak, or how to be silent, with due regard for the position of mind or the feelings of others. However, I may have an opportunity to say more on this subject. Butto return to the "Prophetical Office. "

I thus speak in the Introduction to my volume:--

"It is proposed, " I say, "to offer helps towards the formation of arecognised Anglican theology in one of its departments. The presentstate of our divinity is as follows: the most vigorous, the clearest, the most fertile minds, have through God's mercy been employed in theservice of our Church: minds too as reverential and holy, and asfully imbued with Ancient Truth, and as well versed in the writingsof the Fathers, as they were intellectually gifted. This is God'sgreat mercy indeed, for which we must ever be thankful. Primitivedoctrine has been explored for us in every direction, and theoriginal principles of the Gospel and the Church patiently brought tolight. But one thing is still wanting: our champions and teachershave lived in stormy times: political and other influences have actedupon them variously in their day, and have since obstructed a carefulconsolidation of their judgments. We have a vast inheritance, but noinventory of our treasures. All is given us in profusion; it remainsfor us to catalogue, sort, distribute, select, harmonise, andcomplete. We have more than we know how to use; stores of learning, but little that is precise and serviceable; Catholic truth andindividual opinion, first principles and the guesses of genius, allmingled in the same works, and requiring to be discriminated. We meetwith truths overstated or misdirected, matters of detail variouslytaken, facts incompletely proved or applied, and rules inconsistentlyurged or discordantly interpreted. Such indeed is the state of everydeep philosophy in its first stages, and therefore of theologicalknowledge. What we need at present for our Church's well-being, isnot invention, nor originality, nor sagacity, nor even learning inour divines, at least in the first place, though all gifts of God arein a measure needed, and never can be unseasonable when usedreligiously, but we need peculiarly a sound judgment, patientthought, discrimination, a comprehensive mind, an abstinence from allprivate fancies and caprices and personal tastes, --in a word, DivineWisdom. "

The subject of the volume is the doctrine of the _Via Media_, a namewhich had already been applied to the Anglican system by writers ofname. It is an expressive title, but not altogether satisfactory, because it is at first sight negative. This had been the reason of mydislike to the word "Protestant;" in the idea which it conveyed, itwas not the profession of any religion at all, and was compatiblewith infidelity. A _Via Media_ was but a receding from extremes, therefore I had to draw it out into a shape, and a character; beforeit had claims on our respect, it must first be shown to be one, intelligible, and consistent. This was the first condition of anyreasonable treatise on the _Via Media_. The second condition, andnecessary too, was not in my power. I could only hope that it wouldone day be fulfilled. Even if the _Via Media_ were ever so positive areligious system, it was not as yet objective and real; it had nooriginal anywhere of which it was the representative. It was atpresent a paper religion. This I confess in my Introduction; I say, "Protestantism and Popery are real religions . .. But the _Via Media_, viewed as an integral system, has scarcely had existence except onpaper. " I grant the objection and proceed to lessen it. There Isay, "It still remains to be tried, whether what is calledAnglo-Catholicism, the religion of Andrewes, Laud, Hammond, Butler, and Wilson, is capable of being professed, acted on, and maintainedon a large sphere of action, or whether it be a mere modification ortransition-state of either Romanism or popular Protestantism. " Itrusted that some day it would prove to be a substantive religion. 

Lest I should be misunderstood, let me observe that this hesitationabout the validity of the theory of the _Via Media_ implied no doubtof the three fundamental points on which it was based, as I havedescribed above, dogma, the sacramental system, and opposition to theChurch of Rome. 

Other investigations which followed gave a still more tentativecharacter to what I wrote or got written. The basis of the _ViaMedia_, consisting of the three elementary points, which I have justmentioned, was clear enough; but, not only had the house to be builtupon them, but it had also to be furnished, and it is not wonderfulif both I and others erred in detail in determining what thatfurniture should be, what was consistent with the style of building, and what was in itself desirable. I will explain what I mean. 

I had brought out in the "Prophetical Office" in what the Roman andthe Anglican systems differed from each other, but less distinctly inwhat they agreed. I had indeed enumerated the Fundamentals, common toboth, in the following passage:--"In both systems the same Creeds areacknowledged. Besides other points in common we both hold, thatcertain doctrines are necessary to be believed for salvation; we bothbelieve in the doctrines of the Trinity, Incarnation, and Atonement;in original sin; in the necessity of regeneration; in thesupernatural grace of the Sacraments; in the apostolical succession;in the obligation of faith and obedience, and in the eternity offuture punishment" (Pp. 55, 56). So much I had said, but I had notsaid enough. This enumeration implied a great many more points ofagreement than were found in those very Articles which werefundamental. If the two Churches were thus the same in fundamentals, they were also one and the same in such plain consequences as arecontained in those fundamentals or as outwardly represented them. It was an Anglican principle that "the abuse of a thing doth nottake away the lawful use of it;" and an Anglican Canon in 1603 haddeclared that the English Church had no purpose to forsake all thatwas held in the Churches of Italy, France, and Spain, and reverencedthose ceremonies and particular points which were apostolic. Excepting then such exceptional matters, as are implied in thisavowal, whether they were many or few, all these Churches wereevidently to be considered as one with the Anglican. The CatholicChurch in all lands had been one from the first for many centuries;then, various portions had followed their own way to the injury, butnot to the destruction, whether of truth or of charity. Theseportions or branches were mainly three:--the Greek, Latin, andAnglican. Each of these inherited the early undivided Church _insolido_ as its own possession. Each branch was identical with thatearly undivided Church, and in the unity of that Church it had unitywith the other branches. The three branches agreed together in _allbut_ their later accidental errors. Some branches had retained indetail portions of apostolical truth and usage, which the others hadnot; and these portions might be and should be appropriated again bythe others which had let them slip. Thus, the middle age belonged tothe Anglican Church, and much more did the middle age of England. The Church of the twelfth century was the Church of the nineteenth. Dr. Howley sat in the seat of St. Thomas the Martyr; Oxford wasa medieval University. Saving our engagements to Prayer Book andArticles, we might breathe and live and act and speak, in theatmosphere and climate of Henry III. 's day, or the Confessor's, or ofAlfred's. And we ought to be indulgent of all that Rome taught now, as of what Rome taught then, saving our protest. We might boldlywelcome, even what we did not ourselves think right to adopt. And, when we were obliged on the contrary boldly to denounce, we should doso with pain, not with exultation. By very reason of our protest, which we had made, and made _ex animo_, we could agree to differ. What the members of the Bible Society did on the basis of Scripture, we could do on the basis of the Church; Trinitarian and Unitarianwere further apart than Roman and Anglican. Thus we had a real wishto co-operate with Rome in all lawful things, if she would let us, and the rules of our own Church let us; and we thought there was nobetter way towards the restoration of doctrinal purity and unity. Andwe thought that Rome was not committed by her formal decrees to allthat she actually taught; and again, if her disputants had beenunfair to us, or her rulers tyrannical, that on our side too therehad been rancour and slander in our controversy with her, andviolence in our political measures. As to ourselves being instrumentsin improving the belief or practice of Rome directly, I used to say, "Look at home; let us first, or at least let us the while, supply ourown short-comings, before we attempt to be physicians to any oneelse. " This is very much the spirit of Tract 71, to which I referredjust now. I am well aware that there is a paragraph contrary to it inthe prospectus to the Library of the Fathers; but I never concurredin it. Indeed, I have no intention whatever of implying that Dr. Pusey concurred in the ecclesiastical theory, which I have beendrawing out; nor that I took it up myself except by degrees in thecourse of ten years. It was necessarily the growth of time. In fact, hardly any two persons, who took part in the Movement, agreed intheir view of the limit to which our general principles mightreligiously be carried. 

And now I have said enough on what I consider to have been thegeneral objects of the various works which I wrote, edited, orprompted in the years which I am reviewing; I wanted to bring out ina substantive form, a living Church of England in a position properto herself, and founded on distinct principles; as far as paper coulddo it, and as earnestly preaching it and influencing others towardsit, could tend to make it a fact;--a living Church, made of flesh andblood, with voice, complexion, and motion and action, and a will ofits own. I believe I had no private motive, and no personal aim. Nordid I ask for more than "a fair stage and no favour, " nor expect thework would be done in my days; but I thought that enough would besecured to continue it in the future under, perhaps, more hopefulcircumstances and prospects than the present. 

I will mention in illustration some of the principal works, doctrinaland historical, which originated in the object which I have stated. 

I wrote my essay on Justification in 1837; it was aimed at theLutheran dictum that justification by faith only was the cardinaldoctrine of Christianity. I considered that this doctrine was eithera paradox or a truism--a paradox in Luther's mouth, a truism inMelanchthon. I thought that the Anglican Church followed Melanchthon, and that in consequence between Rome and Anglicanism, between highChurch and low Church, there was no real intellectual difference onthe point. I wished to fill up a ditch, the work of man. In thisvolume again, I express my desire to build up a system of theologyout of the Anglican divines, and imply that my dissertation was atentative inquiry. I speak in the Preface of "offering suggestionstowards a work, which must be uppermost in the mind of every true sonof the English Church at this day, --the consolidation of atheological system, which, built upon those formularies, to which allclergymen are bound, may tend to inform, persuade, and absorb intoitself religious minds, which hitherto have fancied, that, on thepeculiar Protestant questions, they were seriously opposed to eachother. "--P. Vii. 

In my University Sermons there is a series of discussions upon thesubject of Faith and Reason; these again were the tentativecommencement of a grave and necessary work; it was an inquiry intothe ultimate basis of religious faith, prior to the distinction intocreeds. 

In like manner in a pamphlet which I published in the summer of 1838is an attempt at placing the doctrine of the Real Presence on anintellectual basis. The fundamental idea is consonant to that towhich I had been so long attached; it is the denial of the existenceof space except as a subjective idea of our minds. 

The Church of the Fathers is one of the earliest productions of theMovement, and appeared in numbers in the _British Magazine_, and waswritten with the aim of introducing the religious sentiments, views, and customs of the first ages into the modern Church of England. 

The translation of Fleury's Church History was commenced under thesecircumstances:--I was fond of Fleury for a reason which I express inthe advertisement; because it presented a sort of photograph ofecclesiastical history without any comment upon it. In the event, that simple representation of the early centuries had a good deal todo with unsettling me; but how little I could anticipate this, willbe seen in the fact that the publication was a favourite scheme ofMr. Rose's. He proposed it to me twice, between the years 1834 and1837; and I mention it as one out of many particulars curiouslyillustrating how truly my change of opinion arose, not from foreigninfluences, but from the working of my own mind, and the accidentsaround me. The date at which the portion actually translated beganwas determined by the publisher on reasons with which we were notconcerned. 

Another historical work, but drawn from original sources, was givento the world by my old friend Mr. Bowden, being a Life of PopeGregory VII. I need scarcely recall to those who have read it, thepower and the liveliness of the narrative. This composition was theauthor's relaxation on evenings and in his summer vacations, from hisordinary engagements in London. It had been suggested to himoriginally by me, at the instance of Hurrell Froude. 

The series of the Lives of the English Saints was projected at alater period, under circumstances which I shall have in the sequel todescribe. Those beautiful compositions have nothing in them, as faras I recollect, simply inconsistent with the general objects which Ihave been assigning to my labours in these years, though theimmediate occasion of them and their tone could not in the exerciseof the largest indulgence be said to have an Anglican direction. 

At a comparatively early date I drew up the Tract on the RomanBreviary. It frightened my own friends on its first appearance, and, several years afterwards, when younger men began to translate forpublication the four volumes _in extenso_, they were dissuaded fromdoing so by advice to which from a sense of duty they listened. Itwas an apparent accident which introduced me to the knowledge of thatmost wonderful and most attractive monument of the devotion ofsaints. On Hurrell Froude's death, in 1836, I was asked to select oneof his books as a keepsake. I selected Butler's Analogy; finding thatit had been already chosen, I looked with some perplexity along theshelves as they stood before me, when an intimate friend at my elbowsaid, "Take that. " It was the Breviary which Hurrell had had with himat Barbados. Accordingly I took it, studied it, wrote my Tract fromit, and have it on my table in constant use till this day. 

That dear and familiar companion, who thus put the Breviary into myhands, is still in the Anglican Church. So too is that earlyvenerated long-loved friend, together with whom I edited a workwhich, more perhaps than any other, caused disturbance and annoyancein the Anglican world, Froude's Remains; yet, however judgment mightrun as to the prudence of publishing it, I never heard any one imputeto Mr. Keble the very shadow of dishonesty or treachery towards hisChurch in so acting. 

The annotated translation of the treatise of St. Athanasius was ofcourse in no sense a tentative work; it belongs to another order ofthought. This historico-dogmatic work employed me for years. I hadmade preparations for following it up with a doctrinal history of theheresies which succeeded to the Arian. 

I should make mention also of the _British Critic_. I was editor ofit for three years, from July 1838 to July 1841. My writers belongedto various schools, some to none at all. The subjects arevarious, --classical, academical, political, critical, and artistic, as well as theological, and upon the Movement none are to be foundwhich do not keep quite clear of advocating the cause of Rome. 

So I went on for years, up to 1841. It was, in a human point of view, the happiest time of my life. I was truly at home. I had in one of myvolumes appropriated to myself the words of Bramhall, "Bees, by theinstinct of nature, do love their hives, and birds their nests. " Idid not suppose that such sunshine would last, though I knew not whatwould be its termination. It was the time of plenty, and, during itsseven years, I tried to lay up as much as I could for the dearthwhich was to follow it. We prospered and spread. I have spoken of thedoings of these years, since I was a Catholic, in a passage, part ofwhich I will quote, though there is a sentence in it that requiressome limitation:

"From beginnings so small, " I said, "from elements of thought sofortuitous, with prospects so unpromising, the Anglo-Catholic partysuddenly became a power in the National Church, and an object ofalarm to her rulers and friends. Its originators would have found itdifficult to say what they aimed at of a practical kind: rather, theyput forth views and principles, for their own sake, because they weretrue, as if they were obliged to say them; and, as they might bethemselves surprised at their earnestness in uttering them, they hadas great cause to be surprised at the success which attended theirpropagation. And, in fact, they could only say that those doctrineswere in the air; that to assert was to prove, and that to explain wasto persuade; and that the Movement in which they were taking part wasthe birth of a crisis rather than of a place. In a very few years aschool of opinion was formed, fixed in its principles, indefinite andprogressive in their range; and it extended itself into every part ofthe country. If we inquire what the world thought of it, we havestill more to raise our wonder; for, not to mention the excitement itcaused in England, the Movement and its party-names were known to thepolice of Italy and to the back-woodmen of America. And so itproceeded, getting stronger and stronger every year, till it cameinto collision with the Nation, and that Church of the Nation, whichit began by professing especially to serve. "

The greater its success, the nearer was that collision at hand. Thefirst threatenings of the crisis were heard in 1838. At that time, mybishop in a charge made some light animadversions, but they _were_animadversions, on the Tracts for the Times. At once I offered tostop them. What took place on the occasion I prefer to state in thewords, in which I related it in a pamphlet addressed to him in alater year, when the blow actually came down upon me. 

"In your Lordship's Charge for 1838, " I said, "an allusion was madeto the Tracts for the Times. Some opponents of the Tracts said thatyou treated them with undue indulgence . .. I wrote to the Archdeaconon the subject, submitting the Tracts entirely to your Lordship'sdisposal. What I thought about your Charge will appear from the wordsI then used to him. I said, 'A Bishop's lightest word _ex cathedra_is heavy. His judgment on a book cannot be light. It is a rareoccurrence. ' And I offered to withdraw any of the Tracts over which Ihad control, if I were informed which were those to which yourLordship had objections. I afterwards wrote to your Lordship to thiseffect, that 'I trusted I might say sincerely, that I should feel amore lively pleasure in knowing that I was submitting myself to yourLordship's expressed judgment in a matter of that kind, than I couldhave even in the widest circulation of the volumes in question. ' YourLordship did not think it necessary to proceed to such a measure, butI felt, and always have felt, that, if ever you determined on it, Iwas bound to obey. "

That day at length came, and I conclude this portion of my narrative, with relating the circumstances of it. 

From the time that I had entered upon the duties of public tutor atmy College, when my doctrinal views were very different from whatthey were in 1841, I had meditated a comment upon the Articles. Then, when the Movement was in its swing, friends had said to me, "Whatwill you make of the Articles?" but I did not share the apprehensionwhich their question implied. Whether, as time went on, I should havebeen forced, by the necessities of the original theory of theMovement, to put on paper the speculations which I had about them, Iam not able to conjecture. The actual cause of my doing so, in thebeginning of 1841, was the restlessness, actual and prospective, ofthose who neither liked the _Via Media_, nor my strong judgmentagainst Rome. I had been enjoined, I think by my Bishop, to keepthese men straight, and wished so to do: but their tangibledifficulty was subscription to the Articles; and thus the question ofthe articles came before me. It was thrown in our teeth; "How can youmanage to sign the Articles? they are directly against Rome. ""Against Rome?" I made answer, "What do you mean by 'Rome'?" and thenproceeded to make distinctions, of which I shall now give an account. 

By "Roman doctrine" might be meant one of three things: 1, the_Catholic teaching_ of the early centuries; or 2, the _formal dogmasof Rome_ as contained in the later Councils, especially the Councilof Trent, and as condensed in the Creed of Pope Pius IV. ; 3, the_actual popular beliefs and usages_ sanctioned by Rome in thecountries in communion with it, over and above the dogmas; and theseI called "dominant errors. " Now Protestants commonly thought that inall three senses, "Roman doctrine" was condemned in the Articles: Ithought that the _Catholic teaching_ was not condemned; that the_dominant errors_ were; and as to the _formal dogmas_, that somewere, some were not, and that the line had to be drawn between them. Thus, 1, the use of prayers for the dead was a Catholic doctrine--notcondemned; 2, the prison of purgatory was a Roman dogma--which wascondemned; but the infallibility of ecumenical councils was a Romandogma--not condemned; and 3, the fire of Purgatory was an authorisedand popular error, not a dogma--which was condemned. 

Further, I considered that the difficulties, felt by the persons whomI have mentioned, mainly lay in their mistaking, 1, Catholicteaching, which was not condemned in the Articles, for Roman dogmawhich was condemned; and 2, Roman dogma, which was not condemned inthe Articles, for dominant error which was. If they went further thanthis, I had nothing more to say to them. 

A further motive which I had for my attempt, was the desire toascertain the ultimate points of contrariety between the Roman andAnglican creeds, and to make them as few as possible. I thought thateach creed was obscured and misrepresented by a dominantcircumambient "Popery" and "Protestantism. "

The main thesis then of my essay was this:--the Articles do notoppose Catholic teaching; they but partially oppose Roman dogma; theyfor the most part oppose the dominant errors of Rome. And the problemwas to draw the line as to what they allowed and what they condemned. 

Such being the object which I had in view, what were my prospects ofwidening and defining their meaning? The prospect was encouraging;there was no doubt at all of the elasticity of the Articles: to takea palmary instance, the seventeenth was assumed by one party to beLutheran, by another Calvinistic, though the two interpretations werecontradictory to each other; why then should not other Articles bedrawn up with a vagueness of an equally intense character? I wantedto ascertain what was the limit of that elasticity in the directionof Roman dogma. But next, I had a way of inquiry of my own, which Istate without defending. I instanced it afterwards in my Essay onDoctrinal Development. That work, I believe, I have not read since Ipublished it, and I doubt not at all that I have made many mistakesin it;--partly, from my ignorance of the details of doctrine, as theChurch of Rome holds them, but partly from my impatience to clear aslarge a range for the _principle_ of doctrinal development (waivingthe question of historical _fact_) as was consistent with the strictapostolicity and identity of the Catholic Creed. In like manner, asregards the 39 Articles, my method of inquiry was to leap _in mediasres_. I wished to institute an inquiry how far, in critical fairness, the text _could_ be opened; I was aiming far more at ascertainingwhat a man who subscribed it might hold than what he must, so that myconclusions were negative rather than positive. It was but a firstessay. And I made it with the full recognition and consciousness, which I had already expressed in my Prophetical Office, as regardsthe _Via Media_, that I was making only "a first approximation to arequired solution;"--"a series of illustrations supplying hints inthe removal" of a difficulty, and with full acknowledgment "that inminor points, whether in question of fact or of judgment, there wasroom for difference or error of opinion, " and that I "should not beashamed to own a mistake, if it were proved against me, nor reluctantto bear the just blame of it. "--P. 31. 

In addition, I was embarrassed in consequence of my wish to go as faras was possible, in interpreting the Articles in the direction ofRoman dogma, without disclosing what I was doing to the parties whosedoubts I was meeting, who might be thereby encouraged to go stillfurther than at present they found in themselves any call to do. 

1. But in the way of such an attempt comes the prompt objection thatthe Articles were actually drawn up against "Popery, " and thereforeit was transcendently absurd and dishonest to suppose that Popery, inany shape--patristic belief, Tridentine dogma, or popular corruptionauthoritatively sanctioned--would be able to take refuge under theirtext. This premiss I denied. Not any religious doctrine at all, but apolitical principle, was the primary English idea at that time of"Popery. " And what was that political principle, and how could itbest be kept out of England? What was the great question in the daysof Henry and Elizabeth? The _Supremacy_;--now, was I saying onesingle word in favour of the supremacy of the holy see, of theforeign jurisdiction? No; I did not believe in it myself. Did HenryVIII. Religiously hold justification by faith only? did he disbelievePurgatory? Was Elizabeth zealous for the marriage of the Clergy? orhad she a conscience against the Mass? The supremacy of the Pope wasthe essence of the "Popery" to which, at the time of the Articles, the supreme head or governor of the English Church was so violentlyhostile. 

2. But again I said this;--let "Popery" mean what it would in themouths of the compilers of the Articles, let it even, for argument'ssake, include the doctrines of that Tridentine Council, which was notyet over when the Articles were drawn up, and against which theycould not be simply directed, yet, consider, what was the religiousobject of the Government in their imposition? merely to disown"Popery"? No; it had the further object of gaining the "Papists. "What then was the best way to induce reluctant or wavering minds, andthese, I supposed, were the majority, to give in their adhesion tothe new symbol? how had the Arians drawn up their creeds? Was it noton the principle of using vague ambiguous language, which to thesubscribers would seem to bear a Catholic sense, but which, whenworked out in the long run, would prove to be heterodox? Accordingly, there was great antecedent probability, that, fierce as the Articlesmight look at first sight, their bark would prove worse than theirbite. I say antecedent probability, for to what extent that surmisemight be true, could only be ascertained by investigation. 

3. But a consideration came up at once, which threw light on thissurmise:--what if it should turn out that the very men who drew upthe Articles, in the very act of doing so, had avowed, or rather inone of those very Articles themselves had imposed on subscribers, a number of those very "Papistical" doctrines, which they were nowthought to deny, as part and parcel of that very Protestantism, whichthey were now thought to consider divine? and this was the fact, andI showed it in my Essay. 

Let the reader observe:--the 35th Article says: "The second Book ofHomilies doth contain _a godly and wholesome doctrine, and necessaryfor_ these times, as doth the former Book of Homilies. " Here the_doctrine_ of the Homilies is recognised as godly and wholesome, andsubscription to that proposition is imposed on all subscribers of theArticles. Let us then turn to the Homilies, and see what this godlydoctrine is: I quoted from them to the following effect:

1. They declare that the so-called "apocryphal" book of Tobit is theteaching of the Holy Ghost, and is Scripture. 

2. That the so-called "apocryphal" book of Wisdom is Scripture, andthe infallible and undeceivable word of God. 

3. That the Primitive Church, next to the apostles' time, and, asthey imply, for almost 700 years, is no doubt most pure. 

4. That the Primitive Church is specially to be followed. 

5. That the four first general councils belong to the PrimitiveChurch. 

6. That there are six councils which are allowed and received by allmen. 

7. Again, they speak of a certain truth which they are enforcing, asdeclared by God's word, the sentences of the ancient doctors, andjudgment of the Primitive Church. 

8. Of the learned and holy Bishops and doctors of the first eightcenturies being of good authority and credit with the people. 

9. Of the declaration of Christ and His apostles and all the rest ofthe Holy Fathers. 

10. Of the authority of both Scripture and also of Augustine. 

11. Of Augustine, Chrysostom, Ambrose, Jerome, and about thirty otherFathers, to some of whom they give the title of "Saint, " to others ofancient Catholic Fathers and doctors. 

12. They declare that, not only the holy apostles and disciples ofChrist, but the godly Fathers also before and since Christ wereendued without doubt with the Holy Ghost. 

13. That the ancient Catholic Fathers say that the "Lord's Supper" isthe salve of immortality, the sovereign preservative against death, the food of immortality, the healthful grace. 

14. That the Lord's Blessed Body and Blood are received under theform of bread and wine. 

15. That the meat in the Sacrament is an invisible meat and a ghostlysubstance. 

16. That the holy Body and Blood ought to be touched with the mind. 

17. That Ordination is a Sacrament. 

18. That Matrimony is a Sacrament. 

19. That there are other Sacraments besides "Baptism and the Lord'sSupper. "

20. That the souls of the Saints are reigning in joy and in heavenwith God. 

21. That alms-deeds purge the soul from the infection and filthyspots of sin, and are a precious medicine, an inestimable jewel. 

22. That mercifulness wipes out and washes away infirmity andweakness as salves and remedies to heal sores and grievous diseases. 

23. That the duty of fasting is a truth more manifest than it shouldneed to be proved. 

24. That fasting, used with prayer, is of great efficacy and weighethmuch with God; so the angel Raphael told Tobias. 

25. That the puissant and mighty Emperor Theodosius was, in thePrimitive Church which was most holy and godly, excommunicated by St. Ambrose. 

26. That Constantine, Bishop of Rome, did condemn Philippicus, theEmperor, not without a cause indeed, but most justly. 

Putting altogether aside the question how far these separate thesescame under the matter to which subscription was to be made, it wasquite plain, that the men who wrote the Homilies, and who thusincorporated them into the Anglican system of doctrine, could nothave possessed that exact discrimination between the Catholic andProtestant faith, or have made that clear recognition of formalProtestant principles and tenets, or have accepted that definition of"Roman doctrine, " which is received at this day:--hence greatprobability accrued to my presentiment, that the Articles weretolerant, not only of what I called "Catholic teaching, " but of muchthat was "Roman. "

4. And here was another reason against the notion that the Articlesdirectly attacked the Roman dogmas as declared at Trent and aspromulgated by Pius the Fourth:--the Council of Trent was not over, nor its decrees promulgated at the date when the Articles were drawnup, so that those Articles must be aiming at something else. What wasthat something else? The Homilies tell us: the Homilies are the bestcomment upon the Articles. Let us turn to the Homilies, and we shallfind from first to last that, not only is not the Catholic teachingof the first centuries, but neither again are the dogmas of Rome, theobjects of the protest of the compilers of the Articles, but thedominant errors, the popular corruptions, authorised or suffered bythe high name of Rome. As to Catholic teaching, nay as to Romandogma, those Homilies, as I have shown, contained no small portion ofit themselves. 

5. So much for the writers of the Articles and Homilies;--they werewitnesses, not authorities, and I used them as such; but in the nextplace, who were the actual authorities imposing them? I consideredthe _imponens_ to be the Convocation of 1571; but here again, itwould be found that the very Convocation, which received andconfirmed the 39 Articles, also enjoined by Canon that "preachersshould be _careful_, that they should _never_ teach aught in asermon, to be religiously held and believed by the people, exceptthat which is agreeable to the doctrine of the Old and New Testament, and _which the Catholic Fathers and ancient Bishops have collected_from that very doctrine. " Here, let it be observed, an appeal is madeby the Convocation _imponens_ to the very same ancient authorities, as had been mentioned with such profound veneration by the writers ofthe Homilies and of the Articles, and thus, if the Homilies containedviews of doctrine which now would be called Roman, there seemed to meto be an extreme probability that the Convocation of 1571 alsocountenanced and received, or at least did not reject, thosedoctrines. 

6. And further, when at length I came actually to look into the textof the Articles, I saw in many cases a patent fulfilment of all thatI had surmised as to their vagueness and indecisiveness, and that, not only on questions which lay between Lutherans, Calvinists, andZuinglians, but on Catholic questions also; and I have noticed themin my Tract. In the conclusion of my Tract I observe: They are"evidently framed on the principle of leaving open large questions onwhich the controversy hinges. They state broadly extreme truths, andare silent about their adjustment. For instance, they say that allnecessary faith must be proved from Scripture; but do not say _who_is to prove it. They say, that the Church has authority incontroversies; they do not say _what_ authority. They say that it mayenforce nothing beyond Scripture, but do not say _where_ the remedylies when it does. They say that works _before_ grace _and_justification are worthless and worse, and that works _after_ grace_and_ justification are acceptable, but they do not speak at all ofworks _with_ God's aid _before_ justification. They say that men arelawfully called and sent to minister and preach, who are chosen andcalled by men who have public authority _given_ them in theCongregation; but they do not add _by whom_ the authority is to begiven. They say that Councils called by _princes_ may err; they donot determine whether Councils called in the name of Christ may err. "

Such were the considerations which weighed with me in my inquiry howfar the Articles were tolerant of a Catholic, or even a Romaninterpretation; and such was the defence which I made in my Tract forhaving attempted it. From what I have already said, it will appearthat I have no need or intention at this day to maintain everyparticular interpretation which I suggested in the course of myTract, nor indeed had I then. Whether it was prudent or not, whetherit was sensible or not, anyhow I attempted only a first essay of anecessary work, an essay which, as I was quite prepared to find, would require revision and modification by means of the lights whichI should gain from the criticism of others. I should have gladlywithdrawn any statement, which could be proved to me to be erroneous;I considered my work to be faulty and objectionable in the same sensein which I now consider my Anglican interpretations of Scripture tobe erroneous, but in no other sense. I am surprised that men do notapply to the interpreters of Scripture generally the hard nameswhich they apply to the author of Tract 90. He held a large systemof theology, and applied it to the Articles: Episcopalians, orLutherans, or Presbyterians, or Unitarians, hold a large systemof theology and apply it to Scripture. Every theology has itsdifficulties; Protestants hold justification by faith only, thoughthere is no text in St. Paul which enunciates it, and thoughSt. James expressly denies it; do we therefore call Protestantsdishonest? they deny that the Church has a divine mission, though St. Paul says that it is "the Pillar and ground of Truth;" they keep theSabbath, though St. Paul says, "Let no man judge you in meat or drinkor in respect of . .. The sabbath days. " Every creed has texts in itsfavour, and again texts which run counter to it: and this isgenerally confessed. And this is what I felt keenly:--how had I doneworse in Tract 90 than Anglicans, Wesleyans, and Calvinists did dailyin their Sermons and their publications? How had I done worse, thanthe Evangelical party in their _ex animo_ reception of the Servicesfor Baptism and Visitation of the Sick?[2] Why was I to be dishonestand they immaculate? There was an occasion on which our Lord gave ananswer, which seemed to be appropriate to my own case, when thetumult broke out against my Tract:--"He that is without sin amongyou, let him first cast a stone at him. " I could have fancied that asense of their own difficulties of interpretation would havepersuaded the great party I have mentioned to some prudence, or atleast moderation, in opposing a teacher of an opposite school. But Isuppose their alarm and their anger overcame their sense ofjustice. 

In the universal storm of indignation with which the Tract wasreceived on its appearance, I recognise much of real religiousfeeling, much of honest and true principle, much of straightforwardignorant common sense. In Oxford there was genuine feeling too; butthere had been a smouldering stern energetic animosity, not at allunnatural, partly rational, against its author. A false step had beenmade; now was the time for action. I am told that, even before thepublication of the Tract, rumours of its contents had got into thehostile camp in an exaggerated form; and not a moment was lost inproceeding to action, when I was actually in the hands of thePhilistines. I was quite unprepared for the outbreak, and wasstartled at its violence. I do not think I had any fear. Nay, I willadd I am not sure that it was not in one point of view a relief tome. 

I saw indeed clearly that my place in the Movement was lost; publicconfidence was at an end; my occupation was gone. It was simply animpossibility that I could say anything henceforth to good effect, when I had been posted up by the marshal on the buttery hatch ofevery College of my University, after the manner of discommonedpastry-cooks, and when in every part of the country and everyclass of society, through every organ and occasion of opinion, in newspapers, in periodicals, at meetings, in pulpits, atdinner-tables, in coffee-rooms, in railway carriages, I was denouncedas a traitor who had laid his train and was detected in the very actof firing it against the time-honoured Establishment. There wereindeed men, besides my own friends, men of name and position, whogallantly took my part, as Dr. Hook, Mr. Palmer, and Mr. Perceval: itmust have been a grievous trial for themselves; yet what after allcould they do for me? Confidence in me was lost;--but I had alreadylost full confidence in myself. Thoughts had passed over me a yearand a half before which for the time had profoundly troubled me. Theyhad gone: I had not less confidence in the power and the prospects ofthe apostolical movement than before; not less confidence than beforein the grievousness of what I called the "dominant errors" of Rome:but how was I any more to have absolute confidence in myself? how wasI to have confidence in my present confidence? how was I to be surethat I should always think as I thought now? I felt that by thisevent a kind Providence had saved me from an impossible position inthe future. 

First, if I remember right, they wished me to withdraw the Tract. This I refused to do: I would not do so for the sake of those whowere unsettled or in danger of unsettlement. I would not do sofor my own sake; for how could I acquiesce in a mere Protestantinterpretation of the Articles? how could I range myself among theprofessors of a theology, of which it put my teeth on edge, even tohear the sound?

Next they said, "Keep silence; do not defend the Tract;" I answered, "Yes, if you will not condemn it--if you will allow it to continue onsale. " They pressed on me whenever I gave way; they fell back whenthey saw me obstinate. Their line of action was to get out of me asmuch as they could; but upon the point of their tolerating the TractI _was_ obstinate. So they let me continue it on sale; and they saidthey would not condemn it. But they said that this was on conditionthat I did not defend it, that I stopped the series, and that Imyself published my own condemnation in a letter to the Bishop ofOxford. I impute nothing whatever to him, he was ever most kind tome. Also, they said they could not answer for what individual Bishopsmight perhaps say about the Tract in their own charges. I agreed totheir conditions. My one point was to save the Tract. 

Not a scrap of writing was given me, as a pledge of the performanceon their side of the engagement. Parts of letters from them were readto me, without being put into my hands. It was an "understanding. " Aclever man had warned me against "understandings" some six yearsbefore: I have hated them ever since. 

In the last words of my letter to the Bishop of Oxford I thusresigned my place in the Movement:--

"I have nothing to be sorry for, " I say to him, "except having madeyour Lordship anxious, and others whom I am bound to revere. I havenothing to be sorry for, but everything to rejoice in and be thankfulfor. I have never taken pleasure in seeming to be able to move aparty, and whatever influence I have had, has been found, not soughtafter. I have acted because others did not act, and have sacrificed aquiet which I prized. May God be with me in time to come, as He hasbeen hitherto! and He will be, if I can but keep my hand clean and myheart pure. I think I can bear, or at least will try to bear, anypersonal humiliation, so that I am preserved from betraying sacredinterests, which the Lord of grace and power has given into mycharge. "

Footnote

[2] For instance, let candid men consider the form of Absolutioncontained in that Prayer Book, of which all clergymen, Evangelicaland Liberal as well as high Church, and (I think) all persons inUniversity office declare that "it containeth _nothing contrary tothe Word of God_. "

I challenge, in the sight of all England, Evangelical clergymengenerally, to put on paper an interpretation of this form of words, consistent with their sentiments, which shall be less forced than themost objectionable of the interpretations which Tract 90 puts uponany passage in the Articles. 

"Our Lord Jesus Christ, who hath left _power_ to His Church toabsolve all sinners who truly repent and believe in Him, of His greatmercy forgive thee thine offences; and by _His authority committed tome, I absolve thee from all thy sins_, in the Name of the Father, andof the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. "

I subjoin the Roman form, as used in England and elsewhere "Dominusnoster Jesus Christus te absolvat; et ego auctoritate ipsius teabsolvo, ab omni vinculo excommunicationis et interdicti, in quantumpossum et tu indiges. Deinde ego te absolvo à peccatis tuis, innomine Patris et Filii et Spiritûs Sancti. Amen. "

Part V

History of My Religious Opinions--1839-1841

And now that I am about to trace, as far as I can, the course of thatgreat revolution of mind, which led me to leave my own home, to whichI was bound by so many strong and tender ties, I feel overcome withthe difficulty of satisfying myself in my account of it, and haverecoiled from doing so, till the near approach of the day, on whichthese lines must be given to the world, forces me to set aboutthe task. For who can know himself, and the multitude of subtleinfluences which act upon him? and who can recollect, at the distanceof twenty-five years, all that he once knew about his thoughts andhis deeds, and that, during a portion of his life, when even at thetime his observation, whether of himself or of the external world, was less than before or after, by very reason of the perplexity anddismay which weighed upon him, --when, though it would be mostunthankful to seem to imply that he had not all-sufficient light amidhis darkness, yet a darkness it emphatically was? And who can girdhimself suddenly to a new and anxious undertaking, which he might beable indeed to perform well, had he full and calm leisure to lookthrough everything that he has written, whether in published worksor private letters? but, on the other hand, as to that calmcontemplation of the past, in itself so desirable, who can afford tobe leisurely and deliberate, while he practises on himself a crueloperation, the ripping up of old griefs, and the venturing again uponthe "infandum dolorem" of years, in which the stars of this lowerheaven were one by one going out? I could not in cool blood, norexcept upon the imperious call of duty, attempt what I have setmyself to do. It is both to head and heart an extreme trial, thus toanalyse what has so long gone by, and to bring out the results ofthat examination. I have done various bold things in my life: this isthe boldest: and, were I not sure I should after all succeed in myobject, it would be madness to set about it. 

In the spring of 1839 my position in the Anglican Church was at itsheight. I had supreme confidence in my controversial _status_, and Ihad a great and still growing success, in recommending it to others. I had in the foregoing autumn been somewhat sore at the bishop'scharge, but I have a letter which shows that all annoyance had passedfrom my mind. In January, if I recollect aright, in order to meet thepopular clamour against myself and others, and to satisfy the bishop, I had collected into one all the strong things which they, andespecially I, had said against the Church of Rome, in order to theirinsertion among the advertisements appended to our publications. Conscious as I was that my opinions in religion were not gained, asthe world said, from Roman sources, but were, on the contrary, thebirth of my own mind and of the circumstances in which I had beenplaced, I had a scorn of the imputations which were heaped upon me. It was true that I held a large bold system of religion, very unlikethe Protestantism of the day, but it was the concentration andadjustment of the statements of great Anglican authorities, and I hadas much right to do so as the Evangelical party had, and more rightthan the Liberal, to hold their own respective doctrines. As I spokeon occasion of Tract 90, I claimed, in behalf of who would, that hemight hold in the Anglican Church a comprecation with the saints withBramhall, and the Mass all but transubstantiation with Andrewes, or with Hooker that transubstantiation itself is not a point forChurches to part communion upon, or with Hammond that a generalcouncil, truly such, never did, never shall err in a matter of faith, or with Bull that man lost inward grace by the fall, or withThorndike that penance is a propitiation for post-baptismal sin, orwith Pearson that the all-powerful name of Jesus is no otherwisegiven than in the Catholic Church. "Two can play at that, " was oftenin my mouth, when men of Protestant sentiments appealed to theArticles, Homilies, or Reformers; in the sense that, if they had aright to speak loud, I had both the liberty and the means of givingthem tit for tat. I thought that the Anglican Church had beentyrannised over by a party, and I aimed at bringing into effect thepromise contained in the motto to the Lyra, "They shall know thedifference now. " I only asked to be allowed to show them thedifference. 

What will best describe my state of mind at the early part of 1839, is an article in the _British Critic_ for that April. I have lookedover it now, for the first time since it was published; and have beenstruck by it for this reason:--it contains the last words which Iever spoke as an Anglican to Anglicans. It may now be read as myparting address and valediction, made to my friends. I little knew itat the time. It reviews the actual state of things, and it ends bylooking towards the future. It is not altogether mine; for my memorygoes to this, --that I had asked a friend to do the work; that then, the thought came on me, that I would do it myself: and that he wasgood enough to put into my hands what he had with great appositenesswritten, and I embodied it into my article. Every one, I think, willrecognise the greater part of it as mine. It was published two yearsbefore the affair of Tract 90, and was entitled "The State ofReligious Parties. "

In this article, I begin by bringing together testimonies from ourenemies to the remarkable success of our exertions. One writer said:"Opinions and views of a theology of a very marked and peculiar kindhave been extensively adopted and strenuously upheld, and are dailygaining ground among a considerable and influential portion of themembers, as well as ministers of the Established Church. " Another:The Movement has manifested itself "with the most rapid growth of thehot-bed of these evil days. " Another: "The _Via Media_ is crowdedwith young enthusiasts, who never presume to argue, except againstthe propriety of arguing at all. " Another: "Were I to give you a fulllist of the works, which they have produced within the short space offive years, I should surprise you. You would see what a task it wouldbe to make yourself complete master of their system, even in itspresent probably immature state. The writers have adopted the motto, 'In quietness and confidence shall be your strength. ' With regardto confidence, they have justified their adopting it; but as toquietness, it is not very quiet to pour forth such a succession ofcontroversial publications. " Another: "The spread of these doctrinesis in fact now having the effect of rendering all other distinctionsobsolete, and of severing the religious community into two portions, fundamentally and vehemently opposed one to the other. Soon therewill be no middle ground left; and every man, and especially everyclergyman, will be compelled to make his choice between the two. "Another: "The time has gone by, when those unfortunate and deeplyregretted publications can be passed over without notice, and thehope that their influence would fail is now dead. " Another: "Thesedoctrines had already made fearful progress. One of the largestchurches in Brighton is crowded to hear them; so is the church atLeeds. There are few towns of note, to which they have not extended. They are preached in small towns in Scotland. They obtain inElginshire, 600 miles north of London. I found them myself in theheart of the highlands of Scotland. They are advocated in thenewspaper and periodical press. They have even insinuated themselvesinto the House of Commons. " And, lastly, a bishop in a charge:--It"is daily assuming a more serious and alarming aspect. Under thespecious pretence of deference to Antiquity and respect for primitivemodels, the foundations of the Protestant Church are undermined bymen, who dwell within her walls, and those who sit in the Reformers'seat are traducing the Reformation. "

After thus stating the phenomenon of the time, as it presented itselfto those who did not sympathise in it, the Article proceeds toaccount for it; and this it does by considering it as a reaction fromthe dry and superficial character of the religious teaching and theliterature of the last generation, or century, and as a result ofthe need which was felt both by the hearts and the intellects ofthe nation for a deeper philosophy, and as the evidence and as thepartial fulfilment of that need, to which even the chief authorsof the then generation had borne witness. First, I mentioned theliterary influence of Walter Scott, who turned men's minds to thedirection of the middle ages. "The general need, " I said, "ofsomething deeper and more attractive, than what had offered itselfelsewhere, may be considered to have led to his popularity; and bymeans of his popularity he reacted on his readers, stimulating theirmental thirst, feeding their hopes, setting before them visions, which, when once seen, are not easily forgotten, and silentlyindoctrinating them with nobler ideas, which might afterwards beappealed to as first principles. "

Then I spoke of Coleridge, thus: "While history in prose and versewas thus made the instrument of Church feelings and opinions, aphilosophical basis for the same was laid in England by a veryoriginal thinker, who, while he indulged a liberty of speculation, which no Christian can tolerate, and advocated conclusions whichwere often heathen rather than Christian, yet after all instilled ahigher philosophy into inquiring minds, than they had hitherto beenaccustomed to accept. In this way he made trial of his age, andsucceeded in interesting its genius in the cause of Catholic truth. "

Then come Southey and Wordsworth, "two living poets, one of whom inthe department of fantastic fiction, the other in that ofphilosophical meditation, have addressed themselves to the same highprinciples and feelings, and carried forward their readers in thesame direction. "

Then comes the prediction of this reaction hazarded by "a sagaciousobserver withdrawn from the world, and surveying its movements from adistance, " Mr. Alexander Knox. He had said twenty years before thedate of my writing: "No Church on earth has more intrinsic excellencethan the English Church, yet no Church probably has less practicalinfluence . .. The rich provision, made by the grace and providence ofGod, for habits of a noble kind, is evidence that men shall arise, fitted both by nature and ability, to discover for themselves, andto display to others, whatever yet remains undiscovered, whether inthe words or works of God. " Also I referred to "a much veneratedclergyman of the last generation, " who said shortly before his death, "Depend on it, the day will come, when those great doctrines, nowburied, will be brought out to the light of day, and then the effectwill be fearful. " I remarked upon this, that they who "now blame theimpetuosity of the current, should rather turn their animadversionsupon those who have dammed up a majestic river, till it had become aflood. "

These being the circumstances under which the Movement began andprogressed, it was absurd to refer it to the act of two or threeindividuals. It was not so much a movement as a "spirit afloat;" itwas within us, "rising up in hearts where it was least suspected, andworking itself, though not in secret, yet so subtly and impalpably, as hardly to admit of precaution or encounter on any ordinary humanrules of opposition. It is, " I continued, "an adversary in the air, asomething one and entire, a whole wherever it is, unapproachable andincapable of being grasped, as being the result of causes far deeperthan political or other visible agencies, the spiritual awakening ofspiritual wants. "

To make this clear, I proceed to refer to the chief preachers of therevived doctrines at that moment, and to draw attention to thevariety of their respective antecedents. Dr. Hook and Mr. Churtonrepresented the high Church dignitaries of the last century; Mr. Perceval, the tory aristocracy; Mr. Keble came from a countryparsonage; Mr. Palmer from Ireland; Dr. Pusey from the Universitiesof Germany, and the study of Arabic MSS. ; Mr. Dodsworth from thestudy of Prophecy; Mr. Oakeley had gained his views, as he himselfexpressed it, "partly by study, partly by reflection, partly byconversation with one or two friends, inquirers like himself;" whileI speak of myself as being "much indebted to the friendship ofArchbishop Whately. " And thus I am led on to ask, "What head of asect is there? What march of opinions can be traced from mind to mindamong preachers such as these? They are one and all in their degreethe organs of one Sentiment, which has risen up simultaneously inmany places very mysteriously. "

My train of thought next led me to speak of the disciples of theMovement, and I freely acknowledged and lamented that they needed tobe kept in order. It is very much to the purpose to draw attention tothis point now, when such extravagances as then occurred, whateverthey were, are simply laid to my door, or to the charge of thedoctrines which I advocated. A man cannot do more than freely confesswhat is wrong, say that it need not be, that it ought not to be, andthat he is very sorry that it should be. Now I said in the Article, which I am reviewing, that the great truths themselves, which we werepreaching, must not be condemned on account of such abuse of them. "Aberrations there must ever be, whatever the doctrine is, while thehuman heart is sensitive, capricious, and wayward. A mixed multitudewent out of Egypt with the Israelites. " "There will ever be a numberof persons, " I continued, "professing the opinions of a movementparty, who talk loudly and strangely, do odd or fierce things, display themselves unnecessarily, and disgust other people; persons, too young to be wise, too generous to be cautious, too warm to besober, or too intellectual to be humble. Such persons will be veryapt to attach themselves to particular persons, to use particularnames, to say things merely because others do, and to act in aparty-spirited way. "

While I thus republish what I then said about such extravagances asoccurred in these years, at the same time I have a very strongconviction that they furnished quite as much the welcome excuse forthose who were jealous or shy of us, as the stumbling-blocks ofthose who were well inclined to our doctrines. This too we felt atthe time; but it was our duty to see that our good should not beevil-spoken of; and accordingly, two or three of the writers of theTracts for the Times had commenced a Series of what they called"Plain Sermons" with the avowed purpose of discouraging andcorrecting whatever was uppish or extreme in our followers: to thisseries I contributed a volume myself. 

Its conductors say in their Preface: "If therefore as time goes on, there shall be found persons, who admiring the innate beauty andmajesty of the fuller system of Primitive Christianity, and seeingthe transcendent strength of its principles, _shall become loud andvoluble advocates_ in their behalf, speaking the more freely, _because they do not feel them deeply as founded_ in divine andeternal truth, of such persons _it is our duty to declare plainly_, that, as we should contemplate their condition with seriousmisgiving, _so would they be the last persons from whom we should_seek support. 

"But if, on the other hand, there shall be any, who, in the silenthumility of their lives, and in their unaffected reverence for holythings, show that they in truth accept these principles as real andsubstantial, and by habitual purity of heart and serenity of temper, give proof of their deep veneration for sacraments and sacramentalordinances, those persons, _whether our professed adherents or not_, best exemplify the kind of character which the writers of the Tractsfor the Times have wished to form. "

These clergymen had the best of claims to use these beautiful words, for they were themselves, all of them, important writers in theTracts, the two Mr. Kebles, and Mr. Isaac Williams. And this passage, with which they ushered their Series into the world, I quoted in theArticle, of which I am giving an account, and I added, "What more canbe required of the preachers of neglected truth, than that theyshould admit that some, who do not assent to their preaching, areholier and better men than some who do?" They were not answerable forthe intemperance of those who dishonoured a true doctrine, providedthey protested, as they did, against such intemperance. "They werenot answerable for the dust and din which attends any great moralmovement. The truer doctrines are, the more liable they are to beperverted. "

The notice of these incidental faults of opinion or temper inadherents of the Movement, led on to a discussion of the secondarycauses, by means of which a system of doctrine may be embraced, modified, or developed, of the variety of schools which may all be inthe One Church, and of the succession of one phase of doctrine toanother, while it is ever one and the same. Thus I was brought on tothe subject of Antiquity, which was the basis of the doctrine of the_Via Media_, and by which was not implied a servile imitation of thepast, but such a reproduction of it as is really young, while it isold. "We have good hope, " I say, "that a system will be rising up, superior to the age, yet harmonising with, and carrying out itshigher points, which will attract to itself those who are willing tomake a venture and to face difficulties, for the sake of somethinghigher in prospect. On this, as on other subjects, the proverb willapply, 'Fortes fortuna adjuvat. '"

Lastly, I proceeded to the question of that future of the AnglicanChurch, which was to be a new birth of the Ancient Religion. And Idid not venture to pronounce upon it. "About the future, we have noprospect before our minds whatever, good or bad. Ever since thatgreat luminary, Augustine, proved to be the last bishop of Hippo, Christians have had a lesson against attempting to foretell, _how_Providence will prosper and" [or?] "bring to an end, what it begins. "Perhaps the lately-revived principles would prevail in the AnglicanChurch; perhaps they would be lost in "some miserable schism, or somemore miserable compromise; but there was nothing rash in venturing topredict that "neither Puritanism nor Liberalism had any permanentinheritance within her. " I suppose I meant to say that in the presentage, without the aid of apostolic principles, the Anglican Churchwould, in the event, cease to exist. 

"As to Liberalism, we think the formularies of the Church will ever, with the aid of a good Providence, keep it from making any seriousinroads upon the Clergy. Besides, it is too cold a principle toprevail with the multitude. " But as regarded what was calledEvangelical Religion or Puritanism, there was more to cause alarm. I observed upon its organisation; but on the other hand it had nointellectual basis; no internal idea, no principle of unity, notheology. "Its adherents, " I said, "are already separating fromeach other; they will melt away like a snow-drift. It has nostraightforward view on any one point, on which it professes toteach; and to hide its poverty, it has dressed itself out in a mazeof words. We have no dread of it at all; we only fear what it maylead to. It does not stand on intrenched ground, or make any pretenceto a position; it does but occupy the space between contendingpowers, Catholic Truth and Rationalism. Then indeed will be the sternencounter, when two real and living principles, simple, entire, andconsistent, one in the Church, the other out of it, at length rushupon each other, contending not for names and words, or half-views, but for elementary notions and distinctive moral characters. "

Whether the ideas of the coming age upon religion were true or false, they would be real. "In the present day, " I said, "mistiness is themother of wisdom. A man who can set down half-a-dozen generalpropositions, which escape from destroying one another only by beingdiluted into truisms, who can hold the balance between opposites soskilfully as to do without fulcrum or beam, who never enunciates atruth without guarding himself against being supposed to exclude thecontradictory--who holds that Scripture is the only authority, yetthat the Church is to be deferred to, that faith only justifies, yetthat it does not justify without works, that grace does not depend onthe sacraments, yet is not given without them, that bishops are adivine ordinance, yet those who have them not are in the samereligious condition as those who have--this is your safe man and thehope of the Church; this is what the Church is said to want, notparty men, but sensible, temperate, sober, well-judging persons, toguide it through the channel of no-meaning, between the Scylla andCharybdis of Aye and No. "

This state of things, however, I said, could not last, if men were toread and think. They "will not keep standing in that very attitudewhich you call sound Church-of-Englandism or orthodox Protestantism. They cannot go on for ever standing on one leg, or sitting without achair, or walking with their feet tied, or grazing like Tityrus'sstags in the air. They will take one view or another, but it will bea consistent view. It may be Liberalism, or Erastianism, or Popery, or Catholicity; but it will be real. "

I concluded the article by saying, that all who did not wish to be"democratic, or pantheistic, or popish, " must "look out for _some_Via Media which will preserve us from what threatens, though itcannot restore the dead. The spirit of Luther is dead; but Hildebrandand Loyola are alive. Is it sensible, sober, judicious, to be so veryangry with those writers of the day, who point to the fact, that ourdivines of the seventeenth century have occupied a ground which isthe true and intelligible mean between extremes? Is it wise toquarrel with this ground, because it is not exactly what we shouldchoose, had we the power of choice? Is it true moderation, instead oftrying to fortify a middle doctrine, to fling stones at those who do?. .. Would you rather have your sons and daughters members of theChurch of England or of the Church of Rome?"

And thus I left the matter. But, while I was thus speaking of thefuture of the Movement, I was in truth winding up my accounts withit, little dreaming that it was so to be;--while I was still, in someway or other, feeling about for an available _Via Media_, I was soonto receive a shock which was to cast out of my imagination all middlecourses and compromises for ever. As I have said, this articleappeared in the April number of the _British Critic_; in the Julynumber, I cannot tell why, there is no article of mine; before thenumber for October, the event had happened to which I have alluded. 

But before I proceed to describe what happened to me in the summer of1839, I must detain the reader for a while, in order to describe the_issue_ of the controversy between Rome and the Anglican Church, as Iviewed it. This will involve some dry discussion; but it is asnecessary for my narrative, as plans of buildings and homesteads areoften found to be in the proceedings of our law courts. 

I have said already that, though the object of the Movement was towithstand the liberalism of the day, I found and felt this could notbe done by mere negatives. It was necessary for us to have a positiveChurch theory erected on a definite basis. This took me to the greatAnglican divines; and then of course I found at once that it wasimpossible to form any such theory, without cutting across theteaching of the Church of Rome. Thus came in the Roman controversy. 

When I first turned myself to it, I had neither doubt on the subject, nor suspicion that doubt would ever come upon me. It was in thisstate of mind that I began to read up Bellarmine on the one hand, andnumberless Anglican writers on the other. But I soon found, as othershad found before me, that it was a tangled and manifold controversy, difficult to master, more difficult to put out of hand with neatnessand precision. It was easy to make points, not easy to sum up andsettle. It was not easy to find a clear issue for the dispute, and still less by a logical process to decide it in favour ofAnglicanism. This difficulty, however, had no tendency whatever toharass or perplex me: it was a matter, not of convictions, but ofproofs. 

First I saw, as all see who study the subject, that a broaddistinction had to be drawn between the actual state of belief and ofusage in the countries which were in communion with the Roman Church, and her formal dogmas; the latter did not cover the former. Sensiblepain, for instance, is not implied in the Tridentine decree uponpurgatory; but it was the tradition of the Latin Church, and I hadseen the pictures of souls in flames in the streets of Naples. BishopLloyd had brought this distinction out strongly in an Article in the_British Critic_ in 1825; indeed, it was one of the most commonobjections made to the Church of Rome, that she dared not commitherself by formal decree, to what nevertheless she sanctioned andallowed. Accordingly, in my Prophetical Office, I view as simplyseparate ideas, Rome quiescent, and Rome in action. I contrasted hercreed on the one hand, with her ordinary teaching, her controversialtone, her political and social bearing, and her popular beliefs andpractices on the other. 

While I made this distinction between the decrees and the traditionsof Rome, I drew a parallel distinction between Anglicanism quiescent, and Anglicanism in action. In its formal creed Anglicanism was notat a great distance from Rome: far otherwise, when viewed in itsinsular spirit, the traditions of its establishment, its historicalcharacteristics, its controversial rancour, and its private judgment. I disavowed and condemned those excesses, and called them"Protestantism" or "Ultra-Protestantism:" I wished to find a paralleldisclaimer, on the part of Roman controversialists, of that popularsystem of beliefs and usages in their own Church, which I called"Popery. " When that hope was a dream, I saw that the controversy laybetween the book-theology of Anglicanism on the one side, and theliving system of what I called Roman corruption on the other. I couldnot get further than this; with this result I was forced to contentmyself. 

These then were the _parties_ in the controversy:--the Anglican _ViaMedia_ and the popular religion of Rome. And next, as to the _issue_, to which the controversy between them was to be brought, it wasthis:--the Anglican disputant took his stand upon Antiquity orapostolicity, the Roman upon Catholicity. The Anglican said to theRoman: "There is but One Faith, the Ancient, and you have not kept toit;" the Roman retorted: "There is but One Church, the Catholic, andyou are out of it. " The Anglican urged: "Your special beliefs, practices, modes of action, are nowhere in Antiquity;" the Romanobjected: "You do not communicate with any one Church besides yourown and its offshoots, and you have discarded principles, doctrines, sacraments, and usages, which are and ever have been received in theEast and the West. " The true Church, as defined in the Creeds, wasboth Catholic and Apostolic; now, as I viewed the controversy inwhich I was engaged, England and Rome had divided these notes orprerogatives between them: the cause lay thus, Apostolicity _versus_Catholicity. 

However, in thus stating the matter, of course I do not wish itsupposed, that I considered the note of Catholicity really to belongto Rome, to the disparagement of the Anglican Church; but that thespecial point or plea of Rome in the controversy was Catholicity, asthe Anglican plea was Antiquity. Of course I contended that the Romanidea of Catholicity was not ancient and apostolic. It was in myjudgment at the utmost only natural, becoming, expedient, that thewhole of Christendom should be united in one visible body; while sucha unity might be, on the other hand, a mere heartless and politicalcombination. For myself, I held with the Anglican divines, that, inthe Primitive Church, there was a very real mutual independencebetween its separate parts, though, from a dictate of charity, therewas in fact a close union between them. I considered that each seeand diocese might be compared to a crystal, and that each was similarto the rest, and that the sum total of them all was only a collectionof crystals. The unity of the Church lay, not in its being a polity, but in its being a family, a race, coming down by apostolical descentfrom its first founders and bishops. And I considered this truthbrought out, beyond the possibility of dispute, in the Epistles ofSt. Ignatius, in which the bishop is represented as the one supremeauthority in the Church, that is, in his own place, with no one abovehim, except as, for the sake of ecclesiastical order and expedience, arrangements had been made by which one was put over or underanother. So much for our own claim to Catholicity, which was soperversely appropriated by our opponents to themselves:--on the otherhand, as to our special strong point, Antiquity, while of course, bymeans of it, we were able to condemn most emphatically the novelclaim of Rome to domineer over other Churches, which were in truthher equals, further than that, we thereby especially convicted her ofthe intolerable offence of having added to the Faith. This was thecritical head of accusation urged against her by the Anglicandisputant, and, as he referred to St. Ignatius in proof that hehimself was a true Catholic, in spite of being separated from Rome, so he triumphantly referred to the Treatise of Vincentius of Lerinsupon the "Quod semper, quod ubique, quod ab omnibus, " in proof thatthe controversialists of Rome were separated in their creed from theapostolical and primitive faith. 

Of course those controversialists had their own answer to him, withwhich I am not concerned in this place; here I am only concerned withthe issue itself, between the one party and the other--Antiquity_versus_ Catholicity. 

Now I will proceed to illustrate what I have been saying of the_status_ of the controversy, as it presented itself to my mind, byextracts from my writings of the dates of 1836, 1840, and 1841. And Iintroduce them with a remark, which especially applies to the paper, from which I shall quote first, of the date of 1836. That paperappeared in the March and April numbers of the _British Magazine_ ofthat year, and was entitled "Home Thoughts Abroad. " Now it will befound, that, in the discussion which it contains, as in various otherwritings of mine, when I was in the Anglican Church, the argument inbehalf of Rome is stated with considerable perspicuity and force. Andat the time my friends and supporters cried out "How imprudent!" andboth at the time, and especially at a later date, my enemies havecried out, "How insidious!" Friends and foes virtually agreed intheir criticism; I had set out the cause which I was combating to thebest advantage: this was an offence; it might be from imprudence, itmight be with a traitorous design. It was from neither the one northe other; but for the following reasons. First, I had a greatimpatience, whatever was the subject, of not bringing out the wholeof it, as clearly as I could; next I wished to be as fair to myadversaries as possible; and thirdly I thought that there was a greatdeal of shallowness among our own friends, and that they undervaluedthe strength of the argument in behalf of Rome, and that they oughtto be roused to a more exact apprehension of the position of thecontroversy. At a later date (1841), when I really felt the force ofthe Roman side of the question myself, as a difficulty which had tobe met, I had a fourth reason for such frankness in argument, andthat was, because a number of persons were unsettled far more than Iwas, as to the Catholicity of the Anglican Church. It was quiteplain, that, unless I was perfectly candid in stating what could besaid against it, there was no chance that any representations, whichI felt to be in its favour, or at least to be adverse to Rome, wouldhave had their real weight duly acknowledged. At all times I had adeep conviction, to put the matter on the lowest ground, that"honesty was the best policy. " Accordingly, in 1841, I expressedmyself thus on the Anglican difficulty: "This is an objection whichwe must honestly say is deeply felt by many people, and notinconsiderable ones; and the more it is openly avowed to be adifficulty, the better; for there is then the chance of its beingacknowledged, and in the course of time obviated, as far as may be, by those who have the power. Flagrant evils cure themselves by beingflagrant; and we are sanguine that the time is come when so great anevil as this is, cannot stand its ground against the good feeling andcommon sense of religious persons. It is the very strength ofRomanism against us; and, unless the proper persons take it intotheir serious consideration, they may look for certain to undergo theloss, as time goes on, of some whom they would least like to be lostto our Church. " The measure which I had especially in view in thispassage, was the project of a Jerusalem Bishopric, which the thenArchbishop of Canterbury was at that time concocting with M. Bunsen, and of which I shall speak more in the sequel. And now to return tothe Home Thoughts Abroad of the spring of 1836:--

The discussion contained in this composition runs in the form of adialogue. One of the disputants says: "You say to me that the Churchof Rome is corrupt. What then? to cut off a limb is a strange way ofsaving it from the influence of some constitutional ailment. Indigestion may cause cramp in the extremities; yet we spare our poorfeet notwithstanding. Surely there is such a religious _fact_ as theexistence of a great Catholic body, union with which is a Christianprivilege and duty. Now, we English are separate from it. "

The other answers: "The present is an unsatisfactory, miserable stateof things, yet I can grant no more. The Church is founded on adoctrine, --on the gospel of Truth; it is a means to an end. Perishthe Church (though, blessed be the promise! this cannot be), yet letit perish _rather_ than the Truth should fail. Purity of faith ismore precious to the Christian than unity itself. If Rome has erredgrievously in doctrine, then it is a duty to separate even fromRome. "

His friend, who takes the Roman side of the argument, refers to theimage of the Vine and its branches, which is found, I think, in St. Cyprian, as if a branch cut from the Catholic Vine must necessarilydie. Also he quotes a passage from St. Augustine in controversy withthe Donatists to the same effect; viz. That, as being separated fromthe body of the Church, they were _ipso facto_ cut off from theheritage of Christ. And he quotes St. Cyril's argument drawn from thevery title Catholic, which no body or communion of men has ever daredor been able to appropriate, besides one. He adds, "Now, I am onlycontending for the fact, that the communion of Rome constitutes themain body of the Church Catholic, and that we are split off from it, and in the condition of the Donatists. "

The other replies, by denying the fact that the present Romancommunion is like St. Augustine's Catholic Church, inasmuch as thereare to be taken into account the large Anglican and Greek communions. Presently he takes the offensive, naming distinctly the points, inwhich Rome has departed from Primitive Christianity, viz. "thepractical idolatry, the virtual worship of the Virgin and Saints, which are the offence of the Latin Church, and the degradation ofmoral truth and duty, which follows from these. " And again: "Wecannot join a Church, did we wish it ever so much, which does notacknowledge our orders, refuses us the Cup, demands our acquiescencein image-worship, and excommunicates us, if we do not receive it andall the decisions of the Tridentine Council. "

His opponent answers these objections by referring to the doctrine of"developments of gospel truth. " Besides, "The Anglican systemitself is not found complete in those early centuries; so that the[Anglican] principle [of Antiquity] is self-destructive. " "When a mantakes up this _Via Media_, he is a mere _doctrinaire_;" he is likethose, "who, in some matter of business, start up to suggest theirown little crotchet, and are ever measuring mountains with a pocketruler, or improving the planetary courses. " "The _Via Media_ hasslept in libraries; it is a substitute of infancy for manhood. "

It is plain, then, that at the end of 1835 or beginning of 1836, Ihad the whole state of the question before me, on which, to my mind, the decision between the Churches depended. It is observable that thequestion of the position of the Pope, whether as the centre of unity, or as the source of jurisdiction, did not come into my thoughts atall; nor did it, I think I may say, to the end. I doubt whether Iever distinctly held any of his powers to be _de jure divino_, whileI was in the Anglican Church;--not that I saw any difficulty in thedoctrine; not that, together with the story of St. Leo, of which Ishall speak by and by, the idea of his infallibility did not cross mymind, for it did--but after all, in my view the controversy did notturn upon it; it turned upon the Faith and the Church. This was myissue of the controversy from the beginning to the end. There was acontrariety of claims between the Roman and Anglican religions, andthe history of my conversion is simply the process of working it outto a solution. In 1838 I illustrated it by the contrast presented tous between the Madonna and Child, and a Calvary. I said that thepeculiarity of the Anglican theology was this--that it "supposed theTruth to be entirely objective and detached, not" (as the Roman)"lying hid in the bosom of the Church as if one with her, clingingto and (as it were) lost her embrace, but as being sole andunapproachable, as on the Cross or at the Resurrection, with theChurch close by, but in the background. "

As I viewed the controversy in 1836 and 1838, so I viewed it in 1840and 1841. In the _British Critic_ of January 1840, after graduallyinvestigating how the matter lies between the Churches by means of adialogue, I end thus: "It would seem, that, in the above discussion, each disputant has a strong point: our strong point is the argumentfrom Primitiveness, that of Romanists from Universality. It is afact, however it is to be accounted for, that Rome has added to theCreed; and it is a fact, however we justify ourselves, that we areestranged from the great body of Christians over the world. And eachof these two facts is at first sight a grave difficulty in therespective systems to which they belong. " Again, "While Rome, thoughnot deferring to the Fathers, recognises them, and England, notdeferring to the large body of the Church, recognises it, both Romeand England have a point to clear up. "

And still more strongly in July, 1841:

"If the Note of schism, on the one hand, lies against England, anantagonist disgrace lies upon Rome, the Note of idolatry. Let us notbe mistaken here; we are neither accusing Rome of idolatry, norourselves of schism; we think neither charge tenable; but still theRoman Church practises what is so like idolatry, and the EnglishChurch makes much of what is so very like schism, that withoutdeciding what is the duty of a Roman Catholic towards the Church ofEngland in her present state, we do seriously think that members ofthe English Church have a providential direction given them, how tocomport themselves towards the Church of Rome, while she is what sheis. "

One remark more about Antiquity and the _Via Media_. As time went on, without doubting the strength of the Anglican argument fromAntiquity, I felt also that it was not merely our special plea, butour only one. Also I felt that the _Via Media_, which was torepresent it, was to be a sort of remodelled and adapted Antiquity. This I observe both in Home Thoughts Abroad, and in the Article ofthe _British Critic_ which I have analysed above. But thiscircumstance, that after all we must use private judgment uponAntiquity, created a sort of distrust of my theory altogether, whichin the conclusion of my volume on the Prophetical Office I expressthus: "Now that our discussions draw to a close, the thought, withwhich we entered on the subject, is apt to recur, when the excitementof the inquiry has subsided, and weariness has succeeded, that whathas been said is but a dream, the wanton exercise, rather than thepractical conclusions of the intellect. " And I conclude the paragraphby anticipating a line of thought into which I was, in the event, almost obliged to take refuge: "After all, " I say, "the Church isever invisible in its day, and faith only apprehends it. " What wasthis, but to give up the Notes of a visible Church altogether, whether the Catholic Note or the Apostolic?

The Long Vacation of 1839 began early. There had been a great manyvisitors to Oxford from Easter to Commemoration; and Dr. Pusey andmyself had attracted attention, more, I think, than any former year. I had put away from me the controversy with Rome for more than twoyears. In my Parochial Sermons the subject had never been introduced:there had been nothing for two years, either in my Tracts or in the_British Critic_, of a polemical character. I was returning, for thevacation, to the course of reading which I had many years beforechosen as especially my own. I have no reason to suppose that thethoughts of Rome came across my mind at all. About the middle of JuneI began to study and master the history of the Monophysites. I wasabsorbed in the doctrinal question. This was from about June 13th toAugust 30th. It was during this course of reading that for the firsttime a doubt came upon me of the tenableness of Anglicanism. Irecollect on the 30th of July mentioning to a friend, whom I hadaccidentally met, how remarkable the history was; but by the end ofAugust I was seriously alarmed. 

I have described in a former work, how the history affected me. Mystronghold was Antiquity; now here, in the middle of the fifthcentury, I found, as it seemed to me, Christendom of the sixteenthand the nineteenth centuries reflected. I saw my face in that mirror, and I was a Monophysite. The Church of the _Via Media_ was in theposition of the Oriental communion, Rome was, where she now is; andthe Protestants were the Eutychians. Of all passages of history, since history has been, who would have thought of going to thesayings and doings of old Eutyches, that _delirus senex_, as (Ithink) Petavius calls him, and to the enormities of the unprincipledDioscorus, in order to be converted to Rome!

Now let it be simply understood that I am not writingcontroversially, but with the one object of relating things as theyhappened to me in the course of my conversion. With this view I willquote a passage from the account, which I gave in 1850, of myreasonings and feelings in 1839:

"It was difficult to make out how the Eutychians or Monophysites wereheretics, unless Protestants and Anglicans were heretics also;difficult to find arguments against the Tridentine Fathers, which didnot tell against the Fathers of Chalcedon; difficult to condemn thePopes of the sixteenth century, without condemning the Popes of thefifth. The drama of religion, and the combat of truth and error, wereever one and the same. The principles and proceedings of the Churchnow, were those of the Church then; the principles and proceedings ofheretics then, were those of Protestants now. I found it so, --almostfearfully; there was an awful similitude, more awful, because sosilent and unimpassioned, between the dead records of the past andthe feverish chronicle of the present. The shadow of the fifthcentury was on the sixteenth. It was like a spirit rising from thetroubled waters of the old world, with the shape and lineaments ofthe new. The Church then, as now, might be called peremptory andstern, resolute, overbearing, and relentless; and heretics wereshifting, changeable, reserved, and deceitful, ever courting civilpower, and never agreeing together, except by its aid; and the civilpower was ever aiming at comprehensions, trying to put the invisibleout of view, and substituting expediency for faith. What was the useof continuing the controversy, or defending my position, if, afterall, I was forging arguments for Arius or Eutyches, and turningdevil's advocate against the much-enduring Athanasius and themajestic Leo? Be my soul with the Saints! and shall I lift up my handagainst them? Sooner may my right hand forget her cunning, and witheroutright, as his who once stretched it out against a prophet of God!anathema to a whole tribe of Cranmers, Ridleys, Latimers, and Jewels!perish the names of Bramhall, Ussher, Taylor, Stillingfleet, andBarrow from the face of the earth, ere I should do aught but fall attheir feet in love and in worship, whose image was continually beforemy eyes, and whose musical words were ever in my ears and on mytongue!"

Hardly had I brought my course of reading to a close, when the_Dublin Review_ of that same August was put into my hands, by friendswho were more favourable to the cause of Rome than I was myself. There was an Article in it on the "Anglican Claim" by Bishop Wiseman. This was about the middle of September. It was on the Donatists, withan application to Anglicanism. I read it, and did not see much in it. The Donatist controversy was known to me for some years, as I haveinstanced above. The case was not parallel to that of the AnglicanChurch. St. Augustine in Africa wrote against the Donatists inAfrica. They were a furious party who made a schism within theAfrican Church, and not beyond its limits. It was a case of altaragainst altar, of two occupants of the same see, as that between thenon-jurors in England and the Established Church; not the case of oneChurch against another, as Rome against the Oriental Monophysites. But my friend, an anxiously religious man, now, as then, very dear tome, a Protestant still, pointed out the palmary words of St. Augustine, which were contained in one of the extracts made in the_Review_, and which had escaped my observation. "Securus judicatorbis terrarum. " He repeated these words again and again, and, whenhe was gone, they kept ringing in my ears. "Securus judicat orbisterrarum;" they were words which went beyond the occasion of theDonatists: they applied to that of the Monophysites. They gave acogency to the Article, which had escaped me at first. They decidedecclesiastical questions on a simpler rule than that of Antiquity;nay, St. Augustine was one of the prime oracles of Antiquity; herethen Antiquity was deciding against itself. What a light was herebythrown upon every controversy in the Church! not that, for themoment, the multitude may not falter in their judgment, --not that, inthe Arian hurricane, Sees more than can be numbered did not bendbefore its fury, and fall off from St. Athanasius, --not that thecrowd of Oriental Bishops did not need to be sustained during thecontest by the voice and the eye of St. Leo; but that the deliberatejudgment, in which the whole Church at length rests and acquiesces, is an infallible prescription and a final sentence against suchportions of it as protest and secede. Who can account for theimpressions which are made on him? For a mere sentence, the words ofSt. Augustine, struck me with a power which I never had felt from anywords before. To take a familiar instance, they were like the "Turnagain Whittington" of the chime; or, to take a more serious one, theywere like the "Tolle, lege, --Tolle, lege, " of the child, whichconverted St. Augustine himself. "Securus judicat orbis terrarum!" Bythose great words of the ancient Father, the theory of the _ViaMedia_ was absolutely pulverised. 

I became excited at the view thus opened upon me. I was just startingon a round of visits; and I mentioned my state of mind to two mostintimate friends: I think to no others. After a while, I got calm, and at length the vivid impression upon my imagination faded away. What I thought about it on reflection, I will attempt to describepresently. I had to determine its logical value, and its bearing uponmy duty. Meanwhile, so far as this was certain, --I had seen theshadow of a hand upon the wall. It was clear that I had a good dealto learn on the question of the Churches, and that perhaps some newlight was coming upon me. He who has seen a ghost, cannot be as if hehad never seen it. The heavens had opened and closed again. Thethought for the moment had been, "The Church of Rome will be foundright after all;" and then it had vanished. My old convictionsremained as before. 

At this time, I wrote my Sermon on Divine Calls, which I published inmy volume of Plain Sermons. It ends thus:--

"O that we could take that simple view of things, as to feel that theone thing which lies before us is to please God! What gain is itto please the world, to please the great, nay even to please thosewhom we love, compared with this? What gain is it to be applauded, admired, courted, followed, --compared with this one aim, of 'notbeing disobedient to a heavenly vision'? What can this world offercomparable with that insight into spiritual things, that keen faith, that heavenly peace, that high sanctity, that everlastingrighteousness, that hope of glory, which they have, who in sinceritylove and follow our Lord Jesus Christ? Let us beg and pray Him day byday to reveal Himself to our souls more fully, to quicken our senses, to give us sight and hearing, taste and touch of the world to come;so to work within us, that we may sincerely say, 'Thou shalt guide mewith Thy counsel, and after that receive me with glory. Whom have Iin heaven but Thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire incomparison of Thee. My flesh and my heart faileth, but God is thestrength of my heart, and my portion for ever. '"

Now to trace the succession of thoughts, and the conclusions, and theconsequent innovations on my previous belief, and the generalconduct, to which I was led, upon this sudden visitation. And first, I will say, whatever comes of saying it, for I leave inferences toothers, that for years I must have had something of an habitualnotion, though it was latent, and had never led me to distrust my ownconvictions, that my mind had not found its ultimate rest, and thatin some sense or other I was on journey. During the same passageacross the Mediterranean in which I wrote "Lead kindly light, " I alsowrote the verses, which are found in the Lyra under the head of"Providences, " beginning, "When I look back. " This was in 1833; and, since I have begun this narrative, I have found a memorandum underthe date of September 7, 1829, in which I speak of myself, as "now inmy rooms in Oriel College, slowly advancing etc. And led on by God'shand blindly, not knowing whither He is taking me. " But, whateverthis presentiment be worth, it was no protection against the dismayand disgust, which I felt, in consequence of the dreadful misgiving, of which I have been relating the history. The one question was, whatwas I to do? I had to make up my mind for myself, and others couldnot help me. I determined to be guided, not by my imagination, but bymy reason. And this I said over and over again in the years whichfollowed, both in conversation and in private letters. Had it notbeen for this severe resolve, I should have been a Catholic soonerthan I was. Moreover, I felt on consideration a positive doubt, onthe other hand, whether the suggestion did not come from below. ThenI said to myself, Time alone can solve that question. It was mybusiness to go on as usual, to obey those convictions to which I hadso long surrendered myself, which still had possession of me, andon which my new thoughts had no direct bearing. That new conceptionof things should only so far influence me, as it had a logicalclaim to do so. If it came from above, it would come again;--so Itrusted, --and with more definite outlines. I thought of Samuel, before "he knew the word of the Lord;" and therefore I went, and laydown to sleep again. This was my broad view of the matter, and my_prima facie_ conclusion. 

However, my new historical fact had to a certain point a logicalforce. Down had come the _Via Media_ as a definite theory or scheme, under the blows of St. Leo. My "Prophetical Office" had come topieces; not indeed as an argument against "Roman errors, " nor asagainst Protestantism, but as in behalf of England. I had no more adistinctive plea for Anglicanism, unless I would be a Monophysite. Ihad, most painfully, to fall back upon my three original points ofbelief, which I have spoken so much of in a former passage, --theprinciple of dogma, the sacramental system, and anti-Romanism. Ofthese three, the first two were better secured in Rome than in theAnglican Church. The Apostolical Succession, the two prominentsacraments, and the primitive Creeds, belonged, indeed, to thelatter, but there had been and was far less strictness on matters ofdogma and ritual in the Anglican system than in the Roman: inconsequence, my main argument for the Anglican claims lay in thepositive and special charges, which I could bring against Rome. I hadno positive Anglican theory. I was very nearly a pure Protestant. Lutherans had a sort of theology, so had Calvinists; I had none. 

However, this pure Protestantism, to which I was gradually left, wasreally a practical principle. It was a strong, though it was only anegative ground, and it still had great hold on me. As a boy offifteen, I had so fully imbibed it, that I had actually erased in my_Gradus ad Parnassum_, such titles, under the word "Papa, " as"Christi Vicarius, " "sacer interpres, " and "sceptra gerens, " andsubstituted epithets so vile that I cannot bring myself to write themdown here. The effect of this early persuasion remained as, what Ihave already called it, a "stain upon my imagination. " As regards myreason, I began in 1833 to form theories on the subject, which tendedto obliterate it. In the first part of Home Thoughts Abroad, writtenin that year, after speaking of Rome as "undeniably the most exaltedChurch in the whole world, " and manifesting, "in all the truth andbeauty of the Spirit, that side of high mental excellence, whichPagan Rome attempted but could not realise, --high-mindedness, majesty, and the calm consciousness of power, "--I proceed to say, "Alas! . .. The old spirit has revived, and the monster of Daniel'svision, untamed by its former judgments, has seized upon Christianityas the new instrument of its impieties, and awaits a second and finalwoe from God's hand. Surely the doctrine of the _Genius Loci_ is notwithout foundation, and explains to us how the blessing or the curseattaches to cities and countries, not to generations. Michael isrepresented [in the book of Daniel] as opposed to the Prince of thekingdom of Persia. Old Rome is still alive. The Sorceress upon theSeven Hills, in the book of Revelation, is not the Church of Rome, but Rome itself, the bad spirit, which, in its former shape, was theanimating spirit of the Fourth Monarchy. " Then I refer to St. Malachi's Prophecy which "makes a like distinction between the Cityand the Church of Rome. 'In the last persecution, ' it says, 'of theHoly Roman Church, Peter of Rome shall be on the throne, who shallfeed his flock in many tribulations. When these are past, the Cityupon the Seven Hills shall be destroyed, and the awful Judge shalljudge the people. '" Then I append my moral. "I deny that thedistinction is unmeaning; Is it nothing to be able to look on ourMother, to whom we owe the blessing of Christianity, with affectioninstead of hatred? with pity indeed, aye, and fear, but not withhorror? Is it nothing to rescue her from the hard names, whichinterpreters of prophecy have put upon her, as an idolatress and anenemy of God, when she is deceived rather than a deceiver? Nothing tobe able to account her priests as ordained of God, and anointed fortheir spiritual functions by the Holy Spirit, instead of consideringher communion the bond of Satan?" This was my first advance inrescuing, on an intelligible, intellectual basis, the Roman Churchfrom the designation of Antichrist; it was not the Church, but theold dethroned Pagan monster, still living in the ruined city, thatwas Antichrist. 

In a Tract in 1838, I profess to give the opinions of the Fathers onthe subject, and the conclusions to which I come, are still lessviolent against the Roman Church, though on the same basis as before. I say that the local Christian Church of Rome has been the means ofshielding the pagan city from the fulness of those judgments, whichare due to it; and that, in consequence of this, though Babylon hasbeen utterly swept from the earth, Rome remains to this day. Thereason seemed to be simply this, that, when the barbarians came down, God had a people in that city. Babylon was a mere prison of theChurch; Rome had received her as a guest. "That vengeance has neverfallen: it is still suspended; nor can reason be given why Romehas not fallen under the rule of God's general dealings with Hisrebellious creatures, except that a Christian Church is still in thatcity, sanctifying it, interceding for it, saving it. " I add in anote, "No opinion, one way or the other, is here expressed as tothe question, how far, as the local Church has saved Rome, so Romehas corrupted the local Church; or whether the local Church inconsequence, or again whether other Churches elsewhere, may or maynot be types of Antichrist. " I quote all this in order to show howBishop Newton was still upon my mind even in 1838; and how I wasfeeling after some other interpretation of prophecy instead of his, and not without a good deal of hesitation. 

However, I have found notes written in March, 1839, which anticipatemy article in the _British Critic_ of October, 1840, in which Icontended that the Churches of Rome and England were both one, andalso the one true Church, for the very reason that they had both beenstigmatised by the name of Antichrist, proving my point from thetext, "If they have called the Master of the House Beelzebub, howmuch more them of His household, " and quoting largely from Puritansand Independents to show that, in their mouths, the Anglican Churchis Antichrist and Anti-christian as well as the Roman. I urged inthat article that the calumny of being Antichrist is almost "one ofthe notes of the true Church;" and that "there is no medium between aVice-Christ and Anti-Christ;" for "it is not the _acts_ that make thedifference between them, but the _authority_ for those acts. " This ofcourse was a new mode of viewing the question; but we cannot unmakeourselves or change our habits in a moment. It is quite clear, that, if I dared not commit myself in 1838, to the belief that the Churchof Rome was not a type of Antichrist, I could not have thrown off theunreasoning prejudice and suspicion, which I cherished about her, for some time after, at least by fits and starts, in spite of theconviction of my reason. I cannot prove this, but I believe it tohave been the case from what I recollect of myself. Nor was thereanything in the history of St. Leo and the Monophysites to undo thefirm belief I had in the existence of what I called the practicalabuses and excesses of Rome. 

To the inconsistencies then, to the ambition and intrigue, to thesophistries of Rome (as I considered them to be) I had recourse in myopposition to her, both public and personal. I did so by way of arelief. I had a great and growing dislike, after the summer of 1839, to speak against the Roman Church herself or her formal doctrines. Iwas very averse to speak against doctrines, which might possibly turnout to be true, though at the time I had no reason for thinking theywere, or against the Church, which had preserved them. I began tohave misgivings, that, strong as my own feelings had been againsther, yet in some things which I had said, I had taken the statementsof Anglican divines for granted without weighing them for myself. Isaid to a friend in 1840, in a letter, which I shall use presently, "I am troubled by doubts whether as it is, I have not, in what I havepublished, spoken too strongly against Rome, though I think I did itin a kind of faith, being determined to put myself into the Englishsystem, and say all that our divines said, whether I had fullyweighed it or not. " I was sore about the great Anglican divines, asif they had taken me in, and made me say strong things, which factsdid not justify. Yet I _did_ still hold in substance all that I hadsaid against the Church of Rome in my Prophetical Office. I felt theforce of the usual Protestant objections against her; I believed thatwe had the apostolical succession in the Anglican Church, and thegrace of the sacraments; I was not sure that the difficulty of itsisolation might not be overcome, though I was far from sure that itcould. I did not see any clear proof that it had committed itself toany heresy, or had taken part against the truth; and I was not surethat it would not revive into full apostolic purity and strength, andgrow into union with Rome herself (Rome explaining her doctrines andguarding against their abuse), that is, if we were but patient andhopeful. I wished for union between the Anglican Church and Rome, if, and when, it was possible; and I did what I could to gain weeklyprayers for that object. The ground which I felt good against her wasthe moral ground: I felt I could not be wrong in striking at herpolitical and social line of action. The alliance of a dogmaticreligion with liberals, high or low, seemed to me a providentialdirection against moving towards it, and a better "Preservativeagainst Popery, " than the three volumes of folio, in which, I think, that prophylactic is to be found. However, on occasions whichdemanded it, I felt it a duty to give out plainly all that I thought, though I did not like to do so. One such instance occurred, when Ihad to publish a letter about Tract 90. In that letter I said, "Instead of setting before the soul the Holy Trinity, and heaven andhell, the Church of Rome does seem to me, as a popular system, topreach the Blessed Virgin and the Saints, and purgatory. " On thisoccasion I recollect expressing to a friend the distress it gave methus to speak; but, I said, "How can I help saying it, if I think it?and I _do_ think it; my Bishop calls on me to say out what I think;and that is the long and the short of it. " But I recollected HurrellFroude's words to me, almost his dying words, "I must enter anotherprotest against your cursing and swearing. What good can it do? and Icall it uncharitable to an excess. How mistaken we may ourselves be, on many points that are only gradually opening on us!"

Instead then of speaking of errors in doctrine, I was driven, by mystate of mind, to insist upon the political conduct, thecontroversial bearing, and the social methods and manifestations ofRome. And here I found a matter close at hand, which affected me mostsensibly too, because it was before my eyes. I can hardly describetoo strongly my feeling upon it. I had an unspeakable aversion to thepolicy and acts of Mr. O'Connell, because, as I thought, heassociated himself with men of all religions and no religion againstthe Anglican Church, and advanced Catholicism by violence andintrigue. When then I found him taken up by the English Catholics, and, as I supposed, at Rome, I considered I had a fulfilment beforemy eyes how the Court of Rome played fast and loose, and fulfilledthe bad points which I had seen put down in books against it. Here wesaw what Rome was in action, whatever she might be when quiescent. Her conduct was simply secular and political. 

This feeling led me into the excess of being very rude to thatzealous and most charitable man, Mr. Spencer, when he came to Oxfordin January, 1840, to get Anglicans to set about praying for unity. Imyself then, or soon after, drew up such prayers; it was one of thefirst thoughts which came upon me after my shock, but I was too muchannoyed with the political action of the members of the Roman Churchin England to wish to have anything to do with them personally. Soglad in my heart was I to see him when he came to my rooms, whitherMr. Palmer of Magdalen brought him, that I could have laughed forjoy; I think I did; but I was very rude to him, I would not meet himat dinner, and that (though I did not say so) because I consideredhim "in loco apostatæ" from the Anglican Church, and I hereby beg hispardon for it. I wrote afterwards with a view to apologise, but Idare say he must have thought that I made the matter worse, for thesewere my words to him:--

"The news that you are praying for us is most touching, and raises avariety of indescribable emotions. May their prayers returnabundantly into their own bosoms! Why then do I not meet you in amanner conformable with these first feelings? For this single reason, if I may say it, that your acts are contrary to your words. Youinvite us to a union of hearts, at the same time that you are doingall you can, not to restore, not to reform, not to reunite, but todestroy our Church. You go further than your principles require. Youare leagued with our enemies. 'The voice is Jacob's voice, but thehands are the hands of Esau. ' This is what especially distresses us;this is what we cannot understand, how Christians, like yourselves, with the clear view you have that a warfare is ever waging in theworld between good and evil, should, in the present state of England, ally yourselves with the side of evil against the side of good. .. . Ofparties now in the country, you cannot but allow, that next toyourselves we are nearest to revealed truth. We maintain great andholy principles; we profess Catholic doctrines. .. . So near are we asa body to yourselves in modes of thinking, as even to have beentaunted with the nicknames which belong to you; and, on the otherhand, if there are professed infidels, scoffers, sceptics, unprincipled men, rebels, they are found among our opponents. And yetyou take part with them against us. .. . You consent to act hand inhand [with these and others] for our overthrow. Alas! all this it isthat impresses us irresistibly with the notion that you are apolitical, not a religious party; that, in order to gain an end onwhich you set your hearts, --an open stage for yourselves inEngland--you ally yourselves with those who hold nothing againstthose who hold something. This is what distresses my own mind sogreatly, to speak of myself, that, with limitations which need notnow be mentioned, I cannot meet familiarly any leading persons of theRoman Communion, and least of all when they come on a religiouserrand. Break off, I would say, with Mr. O'Connell in Ireland and theliberal party in England, or come not to us with overtures for mutualprayer and religious sympathy. "

And here came in another feeling, of a personal nature, which hadlittle to do with the argument against Rome, except that, in myprejudice, I connected it with my own ideas of the usual conduct ofher advocates and instruments. I was very stern upon any interferencein our Oxford matters on the part of charitable Catholics, and on anyattempt to do me good personally. There was nothing, indeed, at thetime more likely to throw me back. "Why do you meddle? why cannot youlet me alone? You can do me no good; you know nothing on earth aboutme; you may actually do me harm; I am in better hands than yours. Iknow my own sincerity of purpose; and I am determined upon taking mytime. " Since I have been a Catholic, people have sometimes accused meof backwardness in making converts; and Protestants have argued fromit that I have no great eagerness to do so. It would be against mynature to act otherwise than I do; but besides, it would be to forgetthe lessons which I gained in the experience of my own history in thepast. 

This is the account which I have to give of some savage andungrateful words in the _British Critic_ of 1840 against thecontroversialists of Rome: "By their fruits ye shall know them. .. . Wesee it attempting to gain converts among us by unreal representationsof its doctrines, plausible statements, bold assertions, appeals tothe weaknesses of human nature, to our fancies, our eccentricities, our fears, our frivolities, our false philosophies. We see itsagents, smiling and nodding and ducking to attract attention, asgipsies make up to truant boys, holding out tales for the nursery, and pretty pictures, and gilt gingerbread, and physic concealed injam, and sugar-plums for good children. Who can but feel shame whenthe religion of Ximenes, Borromeo, and Pascal, is so overlaid? Whocan but feel sorrow, when its devout and earnest defenders so mistakeits genius and its capabilities? We Englishmen like manliness, openness, consistency, truth. Rome will never gain on us, till shelearns these virtues, and uses them; and then she may gain us, but itwill be by ceasing to be what we now mean by Rome, by having a right, not to 'have dominion over our faith, ' but to gain and possess ouraffections in the bonds of the gospel. Till she ceases to be what shepractically is, a union is impossible between her and England; but, if she does reform (and who can presume to say that so large a partof Christendom never can?) then it will be our Church's duty at onceto join in communion with the continental Churches, whateverpoliticians at home may say to it, and whatever steps the civil powermay take in consequence. And though we may not live to see that day, at least we are bound to pray for it; we are bound to pray for ourbrethren that they and we may be led together into the pure light ofthe gospel, and be one as we once were one. It was most touching newsto be told, as we were lately, that Christians on the Continent werepraying together for the spiritual well-being of England. May theygain light, while they aim at unity, and grow in faith while theymanifest their love! We too have our duties to them; not of reviling, not of slandering, not of hating, though political interests requireit; but the duty of loving brethren still more abundantly in spirit, whose faces, for our sins and their sins, we are not allowed to seein the flesh. "

No one ought to indulge in insinuations; it certainly diminishes myright to complain of slanders uttered against myself, when, as inthis passage, I had already spoken in condemnation of that class ofcontroversialists to which I myself now belong. 

I have thus put together, as well as I could, what has to be saidabout my general state of mind from the autumn of 1839 to the summerof 1841; and, having done so, I go on to narrate how my newmisgivings affected my conduct, and my relations towards the AnglicanChurch. 

When I got back to Oxford in October, 1839, after the visits which Ihad been paying, it so happened, there had been, in my absence, occurrences of an awkward character, bringing me into collision bothwith my Bishop and also with the University authorities; and thisdrew my attention at once to the state of what would be consideredthe Movement party there, and made me very anxious for the future. Inthe spring of the year, as has been seen in the Article analysedabove, I had spoken of the excesses which were to be found amongpersons commonly included in it; at that time I thought little ofsuch an evil, but the new thoughts, which had come on me during thelong vacation, on the one hand made me comprehend it, and on theother took away my power of effectually meeting it. A firm andpowerful control was necessary to keep men straight; I never had astrong wrist, but at the very time, when it was most needed, thereins had broken in my hands. With an anxious presentiment on my mindof the upshot of the whole inquiry, which it was almost impossiblefor me to conceal from men who saw me day by day, who heard myfamiliar conversation, who came perhaps for the express purpose ofpumping me, and having a categorical _yes_ or _no_ to theirquestions--how could I expect to say anything about my actual, positive, present belief, which would be sustaining or consoling tosuch persons as were haunted already by doubts of their own? Nay, howcould I, with satisfaction to myself, analyse my own mind, and saywhat I held and what I did not? or say with what limitations, shadesof difference, or degrees of belief, I held that body of opinionswhich I had openly professed and taught? how could I deny or assertthis point or that, without injustice to the new view, in which thewhole evidence for those old opinions presented itself to my mind?

However, I had to do what I could, and what was best, under thecircumstances; I found a general talk on the subject of the articlein the _Dublin Review_; and, if it had affected me, it was notwonderful, that it affected others also. As to myself, I felt no kindof certainty that the argument in it was conclusive. Taking it at theworst, granting that the Anglican Church had not the note ofCatholicity; yet there were many notes of the Church. Some belongedto one age or place, some to another. Bellarmine had reckonedTemporal Prosperity among the notes of the Church; but the RomanChurch had not any great popularity, wealth, glory, power, orprospects, in the nineteenth century. It was not at all certain yet, even that we had not the note of Catholicity; but, if not we hadothers. My first business then, was to examine this questioncarefully, and see, if a great deal could not be said after all forthe Anglican Church, in spite of its acknowledged shortcomings. ThisI did in an Article "on the Catholicity of the English Church, " whichappeared in the _British Critic_ of January, 1840. As to my personaldistress on the point, I think it had gone by February 21st in thatyear, for I wrote then to Mr. Bowden about the important Article inthe Dublin, thus: "It made a great impression here [Oxford]; and, Isay what of course I would only say to such as yourself, it made mefor a while very uncomfortable in my own mind. The great speciousnessof his argument is one of the things which have made me despond somuch, " that is, as to its effect upon others. 

But, secondly, the great stumbling-block lay in the 39 Articles. It was urged that here was a positive Note _against_Anglicanism:--Anglicanism claimed to hold that the Church of Englandwas nothing else than a continuation in this country (as the Churchof Rome might be in France or Spain) of that one Church of which inold times Athanasius and Augustine were members. But, if so, thedoctrine must be the same; the doctrine of the Old Church must liveand speak in Anglican formularies, in the 39 Articles. Did it? Yes, it did; that is what I maintained; it did in substance, in a truesense. Man had done his worst to disfigure, to mutilate, the oldCatholic Truth, but there it was, in spite of them, in the Articlesstill. It was there, but this must be shown. It was a matter of lifeand death to us to show it. And I believed that it could be shown; Iconsidered that those grounds of justification, which I gave above, when I was speaking of Tract 90, were sufficient for the purpose; andtherefore I set about showing it at once. This was in March, 1840, when I went up to Littlemore. And, as it was a matter of life anddeath with us, all risks must be run to show it. When the attempt wasactually made, I had got reconciled to the prospect of it, and had noapprehensions as to the experiment; but in 1840, while my purpose washonest, and my grounds of reason satisfactory, I did neverthelessrecognise that I was engaged in an _experimentum crucis_. I have nodoubt that then I acknowledged to myself that it would be a trial ofthe Anglican Church, which it had never undergone before--not thatthe Catholic sense of the Articles had not been held or at leastsuffered by their framers and promulgators, and was not implied inthe teaching of Andrewes or Beveridge, but that it had never beenpublicly recognised, while the interpretation of the day wasProtestant and exclusive. I observe also, that, though my Tract wasan experiment, it was, as I said at the time, "no _feeler_, " theevent showed it; for, when my principle was not granted, I did notdraw back, but gave up. I would not hold office in a Church whichwould not allow my sense of the Articles. My tone was, "This isnecessary for us, and have it we must and will, and, if it tends tobring men to look less bitterly on the Church of Rome, so much thebetter. "

This then was the second work to which I set myself; though when Igot to Littlemore, other things came in the way of accomplishing itat the moment. I had in mind to remove all such obstacles as were inthe way of holding the Apostolic and Catholic character of theAnglican teaching; to assert the right of all who chose to say in theface of day, "Our Church teaches the Primitive Ancient faith. " I didnot conceal this: in Tract 90, it is put forward as the firstprinciple of all, "It is a duty which we owe both to the CatholicChurch, and to our own, to take our reformed confessions in the mostCatholic sense they will admit: we have no duties towards theirframers. " And still more pointedly in my letter, explanatory of theTract, addressed to Dr. Jelf, I say: "The only peculiarity of theview I advocate, if I must so call it, is this--that whereas it isusual at this day to make the _particular belief of their writers_their true interpretation, I would make the _belief of the CatholicChurch such_. That is, as it is often said that infants areregenerated in Baptism, not on the faith of their parents, but of theChurch, so in like manner I would say that the Articles are received, not in the sense of their framers, but (as far as the wording willadmit or any ambiguity requires it) in the one Catholic sense. "

A third measure which I distinctly contemplated, was the resignationof St. Mary's, whatever became of the question of the Articles; andas a first step I meditated a retirement to Littlemore. I had built aChurch there several years before; and I went there to pass the Lentof 1840, and gave myself up to teaching in the poor schools, andpractising the choir. At the same time, I contemplated a monastichouse there. I bought ten acres of ground and began planting; butthis great design was never carried out. I mention it, because itshows how little I had really the idea then of ever leaving theAnglican Church. That I also contemplated even the further step ofgiving up St. Mary's itself as early as 1839, appears from a letterwhich I wrote in October, 1840, to the friend whom it was mostnatural for me to consult on such a point. It ran as follows:--

"For a year past a feeling has been growing on me that I ought togive up St. Mary's, but I am no fit judge in the matter. I cannotascertain accurately my own impressions and convictions, which arethe basis of the difficulty, and though you cannot of course do thisfor me, yet you may help me generally, and perhaps supersede thenecessity of my going by them at all. 

"First, it is certain that I do not know my Oxford parishioners; I amnot conscious of influencing them, and certainly I have no insightinto their spiritual state. I have no personal, no pastoralacquaintance with them. To very few have I any opportunity of sayinga religious word. Whatever influence I exert on them is preciselythat which I may be exerting on persons out of my parish. In myexcuse I am accustomed to say to myself that I am not adapted to geton with them, while others are. On the other hand, I am consciousthat by means of my position at St. Mary's I do exert a considerableinfluence on the University, whether on Undergraduates or Graduates. It seems, then, on the whole that I am using St. Mary's, to theneglect of its direct duties, for objects not belonging to it; I amconverting a parochial charge into a sort of University office. 

"I think I may say truly that I have begun scarcely any plan but forthe sake of my parish, but every one has turned, independently of me, into the direction of the University. I began Saints'-days Services, daily Services, and Lectures in Adam de Brome's Chapel, for myparishioners; but they have not come to them. In consequence Idropped the last mentioned, having, while it lasted, been naturallyled to direct it to the instruction of those who did come, instead ofthose who did not. The Weekly Communion, I believe, I did begin forthe sake of the University. 

"Added to this the authorities of the University, the appointedguardians of those who form great part of the attendants on mySermons, have shown a dislike of my preaching. One dissuades men fromcoming;--the late Vice-Chancellor threatens to take his own childrenaway from the Church; and the present, having an opportunity lastspring of preaching in my parish pulpit, gets up and preaches againstdoctrine with which I am in good measure identified. No plainer proofcan be given of the feeling in these quarters, than the absurd myth, now a second time put forward, that 'Vice-Chancellors cannot be gotto take the office on account of Puseyism. '

"But further than this, I cannot disguise from myself that mypreaching is not calculated to defend that system of religion whichhas been received for 300 years, and of which the Heads of Houses arethe legitimate maintainers in this place. They exclude me, as far asmay be, from the University Pulpit; and, though I never have preachedstrong doctrine in it, they do so rightly, so far as this, that theyunderstand that my sermons are calculated to undermine thingsestablished. I cannot disguise from myself that they are. No one willdeny that most of my sermons are on moral subjects, not doctrinal;still I am leading my hearers to the Primitive Church, if you will, but not to the Church of England. Now, ought one to be disgusting theminds of young men with the received religion, in the exercise of asacred office, yet without a commission, against the wish of theirguides and governors?

"But this is not all. I fear I must allow that, whether I will or no, I am disposing them towards Rome. First, because Rome is the onlyrepresentative of the Primitive Church besides ourselves; inproportion then as they are loosened from the one, they will go tothe other. Next, because many doctrines which I have held, have fargreater, or their only scope, in the Roman system. And, moreover, if, as is not unlikely, we have in process of time heretical Bishops orteachers among us, an evil which _ipso facto_ infects the wholecommunity to which they belong, and if, again (what there are at thismoment symptoms of), there be a movement in the English RomanCatholics to break the alliance of O'Connell and of Exeter Hall, strong temptations will be placed in the way of individuals, alreadyimbued with a tone of thought congenial to Rome, to join herCommunion. 

"People tell me, on the other hand, that I am, whether by sermons orotherwise, exerting at St. Mary's a beneficial influence on ourprospective clergy; but what if I take to myself the credit of seeingfurther than they, and of having in the course of the last yeardiscovered that what they approve so much is very likely to end inRomanism?

"The _arguments_ which I have published against Romanism seem tomyself as cogent as ever, but men go by their sympathies, not byargument; and if I feel the force of this influence myself, who bowto the arguments, why may not others still more who never have in thesame degree admitted the arguments?

"Nor can I counteract the danger by preaching or writing againstRome. I seem to myself almost to have shot my last arrow in theArticle on English Catholicity. It must be added, that the verycircumstance that I have committed myself against Rome has the effectof setting to sleep people suspicious about me, which is painful nowthat I begin to have suspicions about myself. I mentioned my generaldifficulty to A. B. A year since, than whom I know no one of a morefine and accurate conscience, and it was his spontaneous idea that Ishould give up St. Mary's, if my feelings continued. I mentioned itagain to him lately, and he did not reverse his opinion, onlyexpressed great reluctance to believe it must be so. "

My friend's judgment was in favour of my retaining my living; atleast for the present; what weighed with me most was his saying, "Youmust consider, whether your retiring either from the Pastoral Careonly, or from writing and printing and editing in the cause, wouldnot be a sort of scandalous thing, unless it were done very warily. It would be said, 'You see he can go on no longer with the Church ofEngland, except in mere Lay Communion;' or people might say yourepented of the cause altogether. Till you see [your way to mitigate, if not remove this evil] I certainly should advise you to stay. " Ianswered as follows:--

"Since you think I _may_ go on, it seems to follow that, under thecircumstances, I _ought_ to do so. There are plenty of reasons forit, directly it is allowed to be lawful. The following considerationshave much reconciled my feelings to your conclusion. 

"1. I do not think that we have yet made fair trial how much theEnglish Church will bear. I know it is a hazardous experiment--likeproving cannon. Yet we must not take it for granted, that the metalwill burst in the operation. It has borne at various times, not tosay at this time, a great infusion of Catholic truth without damage. As to the result, viz. Whether this process will not approximate thewhole English Church, as a body to Rome, that is nothing to us. Forwhat we know, it may be the providential means of uniting the wholeChurch in one, without fresh schismatising or use of privatejudgment. "

Here I observe, that, what was contemplated was the bursting of the_Catholicity_ of the Anglican Church, that is, my _subjective idea_of that Church. Its bursting would not hurt her with the world, butwould be a discovery that she was purely and essentially Protestant, and would be really the "hoisting of the engineer with his ownpetard. " And this was the result. I continue:--

"2. Say, that I move sympathies for Rome: in the same sense doesHooker, Taylor, Bull, etc. Their _arguments_ may be against Rome, butthe sympathies they raise must be towards Rome, _so far_ as Romemaintains truths which our Church does not teach or enforce. Thus itis a question of _degree_ between our divines and me. I may, if sobe, go further; I may raise sympathies _more_; but I am but urgingminds in the same direction as they do. I am doing just the verything which all our doctors have ever been doing. In short, would notHooker, if Vicar of St. Mary's, be in my difficulty?"--Here it may besaid, that Hooker could preach against Rome, and I could not; but Idoubt whether he could have preached effectively againsttransubstantiation better than I, though neither he nor I held it. 

"3. Rationalism is the great evil of the day. May not I consider mypost at St. Mary's as a place of protest against it? I am morecertain that the Protestant [spirit], which I oppose, leads toinfidelity, than that which I recommend, leads to Rome. Who knowswhat the state of the University may be, as regards DivinityProfessors in a few years hence? Anyhow, a great battle may be comingon, of which C. D. 's book is a sort of earnest. The whole of _our_day may be a battle with this spirit. May we not leave to another age_its own_ evil--to settle the question of Romanism?"

I may add that from this time I had a Curate at St. Mary's, whogradually took more and more of my work. 

Also, this same year, 1840, I made arrangements for giving up the_British Critic_, in the following July, which were carried intoeffect at that date. 

Such was about my state of mind, on the publication of Tract 90 inFebruary, 1841. The immense commotion consequent upon the publicationof the Tract did not unsettle me again; for I had weathered thestorm: the Tract had not been condemned: that was the great point; Imade much of it. 

To illustrate my feelings during this trial, I will make extractsfrom my letters to a friend, which have come into my possession. Thedates are respectively March 25, April 1, and May 9. 

1. "I do trust I shall make no false step, and hope my friends willpray for me to this effect. If, as you say, a destiny hangs over us, a single false step may ruin all. I am very well and comfortable; butwe are not yet out of the wood. "

2. "The Bishop sent me word on Sunday to write a letter to him'_instanter_. ' So I wrote it on Monday: on Tuesday it passed throughthe press: on Wednesday it was out: and to-day [Thursday] it is inLondon. 

"I trust that things are smoothing now; and that we have made a_great step_ is certain. It is not right to boast, till I am clearout of the wood, _i. E. _ till I know how the letter is received inLondon. You know, I suppose, that I am to stop the Tracts; but youwill see in the Letter, though I speak _quite_ what I feel, yet Ihave managed to take out on _my_ side my snubbing's worth. And thismakes me anxious how it will be received in London. 

"I have not had a misgiving for five minutes from the first: but I donot like to boast, lest some harm come. "

3. "The Bishops are very desirous of hushing the matter up: and Icertainly have done my utmost to co-operate with them, on theunderstanding that the Tract is not to be withdrawn or condemned. "

And to my friend, Mr. Bowden, under date of March 15, "The Heads, Ibelieve, have just done a violent act: they have said that myinterpretation of the Articles is an _evasion_. Do not think thatthis will pain me. You see, no _doctrine_ is censured, and myshoulders shall manage to bear the charge. If you knew all, or werehere, you would see that I have asserted a great principle, and I_ought_ to suffer for it:--that the Articles are to be interpreted, not according to the meaning of the writers, but (as far as thewording will admit) according to the sense of the Catholic Church. "

Upon occasion of Tract 90 several Catholics wrote to me; I answeredone of my correspondents thus:--

"April 8. --You have no cause to be surprised at the discontinuance ofthe Tracts. We feel no misgivings about it whatever, as if the causeof what we hold to be Catholic truth would suffer thereby. My letterto my Bishop has, I trust, had the effect of bringing thepreponderating _authority_ of the Church on our side. No stopping ofthe Tracts can, humanly speaking, stop the spread of the opinionswhich they have inculcated. 

"The Tracts are not _suppressed_. No doctrine or principle has beenconceded by us, or condemned by authority. The Bishop has but saidthat a certain Tract is 'objectionable, ' no reason being stated. Ihave no intention whatever of yielding any one point which I hold onconviction; and that the authorities of the Church know full well. "

In the summer of 1841, I found myself at Littlemore without anyharass or anxiety on my mind. I had determined to put aside allcontroversy, and I set myself down to my translation of St. Athanasius; but, between July and November, I received three blowswhich broke me. 

1. I had got but a little way in my work, when my trouble returned onme. The ghost had come a second time. In the Arian History I foundthe very same phenomenon, in a far bolder shape, which I had found inthe Monophysite. I had not observed it in 1832. Wonderful that thisshould come upon me! I had not sought it out; I was reading andwriting in my own line of study, far from the controversies of theday, on what is called a "metaphysical" subject; but I saw clearly, that in the history of Arianism, the pure Arians were theProtestants, the semi-Arians were the Anglicans, and that Rome nowwas what it was. The truth lay, not with the _Via Media_, but in whatwas called "the extreme party. " As I am not writing a work ofcontroversy, I need not enlarge upon the argument; I have saidsomething on the subject in a volume which I published fourteen yearsago. 

2. I was in the misery of this new unsettlement, when a second blowcame upon me. The bishops one after another began to charge againstme. It was a formal, determinate movement. This was the real"understanding;" that, on which I had acted on occasion of Tract 90, had come to nought. I think the words, which had then been used tome, were, that "perhaps two or three might think it necessary to saysomething in their charges;" but by this time they had tided over thedifficulty of the Tract, and there was no one to enforce the"understanding. " They went on in this way, directing charges at me, for three whole years. I recognised it as a condemnation; it was theonly one that was in their power. At first I intended to protest; butI gave up the thought in despair. 

On October 17th, I wrote thus to a friend: "I suppose it will benecessary in some shape or other to reassert Tract 90; else, it willseem, after these Bishops' Charges, as if it were silenced, which ithas not been, nor do I intend it should be. I wish to keep quiet; butif Bishops speak, I will speak too. If the view were silenced, Icould not remain in the Church, nor could many others; and therefore, since it is _not_ silenced, I shall take care to show that it isn't. "

A day or two after, Oct. 22, a stranger wrote to me to say, that theTracts for the Times had made a young friend of his a Catholic, andto ask, "would I be so good as to convert him back;" I made answer:

"If conversions to Rome take place in consequence of the Tracts forthe Times, I do not impute blame to them, but to those who, insteadof acknowledging such Anglican principles of theology andecclesiastical polity as they contain, set themselves to oppose them. Whatever be the influence of the Tracts, great or small, they maybecome just as powerful for Rome, if our Church refuses them, as theywould be for our Church if she accepted them. If our rulers speakeither against the Tracts, or not at all, if any number of them, notonly do not favour, but even do not suffer the principles containedin them, it is plain that our members may easily be persuaded eitherto give up those principles, or to give up the Church. If this stateof things goes on, I mournfully prophesy, not one or two, but manysecessions to the Church of Rome. "

Two years afterwards, looking back on what had passed, I said, "Therewere no converts to Rome, till after the condemnation of No. 90. "

3. As if all this were not enough, there came the affair of theJerusalem Bishopric; and, with a brief mention of it, I shallconclude. 

I think I am right in saying that it had been long a desire with thePrussian Court to introduce Episcopacy into the Evangelical Religion, which was intended in that country to embrace both the Lutheran andCalvinistic bodies. I almost think I heard of the project, when I wasat Rome in 1833, at the hotel of the Prussian Minister, M. Bunsen, who was most hospitable and kind, as to other English visitors, soalso to my friends and myself. I suppose that the idea of Episcopacy, as the Prussian king understood it, was very different from thattaught in the Tractarian School; but still, I suppose also, that thechief authors of that school would have gladly seen such a measurecarried out in Prussia, had it been done without compromising thoseprinciples which were necessary to the being of a Church. About thetime of the publication of Tract 90, M. Bunsen and the thenArchbishop of Canterbury were taking steps for its execution, byappointing and consecrating a Bishop for Jerusalem. Jerusalem, itwould seem, was considered a safe place for the experiment; it wastoo far from Prussia to awaken the susceptibilities of any party athome; if the project failed, it failed without harm to any one; and, if it succeeded, it gave Protestantism a _status_ in the East, whichin association with the Monophysite or Jacobite and the Nestorianbodies, formed a political instrument for England, parallel to thatwhich Russia had in the Greek Church and France in the Latin. 

Accordingly, in July 1841, full of the Anglican difficulty on thequestion of Catholicity, I thus spoke of the Jerusalem scheme in anArticle in the _British Critic_: "When our thoughts turn to the East, instead of recollecting that there are Christian Churches there, weleave it to the Russians to take care of the Greeks, and the Frenchto take care of the Romans, and we content ourselves with erecting aProtestant Church at Jerusalem, or with helping the Jews to rebuildtheir Temple there, or with becoming the august protectors ofNestorians, Monophysites, and all the heretics we can hear of, orwith forming a league with the Mussulman against Greeks and Romanstogether. "

I do not pretend so long after the time to give a full or exactaccount of this measure in detail. I will but say that in the Act ofParliament, under date of October 5, 1841 (if the copy, from which Iquote, contains the measure as it passed the Houses), provision ismade for the consecration of "British subjects, or the subjects orcitizens of any foreign state, to be Bishops in any foreign country, whether such foreign subjects or citizens be or be not subjects orcitizens of the country in which they are to act, and . .. Withoutrequiring such of them as may be subjects or citizens of any foreignkingdom or state to take the oaths of allegiance and supremacy, andthe oath of due obedience to the Archbishop for the time being" . .. Also "that such Bishop or Bishops, so consecrated, may exercise, within such limits, as may from time to time be assigned for thatpurpose in such foreign countries by her Majesty, spiritualjurisdiction over the ministers of British congregations of theUnited Church of England and Ireland, and over _such otherProtestant_ Congregations, as may be desirous of placing themselvesunder his or their authority. "

Now here, at the very time that the Anglican Bishops were directingtheir censure upon me for avowing an approach to the Catholic Churchnot closer than I believed the Anglican formularies would allow, theywere on the other hand fraternising, by their act or by theirsufferance, with Protestant bodies, and allowing them to putthemselves under an Anglican Bishop, without any renunciation oftheir errors or regard to the due reception of baptism andconfirmation; while there was great reason to suppose that the saidBishop was intended to make converts from the orthodox Greeks, andthe schismatical Oriental bodies, by means of the influence ofEngland. This was the third blow, which finally shattered my faith inthe Anglican Church. That Church was not only forbidding any sympathyor concurrence with the Church of Rome, but it actually was courtingan intercommunion with Protestant Prussia and the heresy of theOrientals. The Anglican Church might have the apostolical succession, as had the Monophysites; but such acts as were in progress led me tothe gravest suspicion, not that it would soon cease to be a Church, but that it had never been a Church all along. 

On October 12th I thus wrote to a friend:--"We have not a singleAnglican in Jerusalem, so we are sending a Bishop to _make_ acommunion, not to govern our own people. Next, the excuse is, thatthere are converted Anglican Jews there who require a Bishop; I amtold there are not half-a-dozen. But for _them_ the Bishop is sentout, and for them he is a Bishop of the _circumcision_" (I think hewas a converted Jew, who boasted of his Jewish descent), "against theEpistle to the Galatians pretty nearly. Thirdly, for the sake ofPrussia, he is to take under him all the foreign Protestants who willcome; and the political advantages will be so great, from theinfluence of England, that there is no doubt they will come. They areto sign the Confession of Augsburg, and there is nothing to show thatthey hold the doctrine of Baptismal Regeneration. 

"As to myself, I shall do nothing whatever publicly, unless indeed itwere to give my signature to a Protest; but I think it would be outof place in _me_ to agitate, having been in a way silenced; but theArchbishop is really doing most grave work, of which we cannot seethe end. "

I did make a solemn Protest, and sent it to the Archbishop ofCanterbury, and also sent it to my own Bishop, with the followingletter:--

"It seems as if I were never to write to your Lordship, withoutgiving you pain, and I know that my present subject does notspecially concern your Lordship; yet, after a great deal of anxiousthought, I lay before you the enclosed Protest. 

"Your Lordship will observe that I am not asking for any notice ofit, unless you think that I ought to receive one. I do this veryserious act, in obedience to my sense of duty. 

"If the English Church is to enter on a new course, and assume a newaspect, it will be more pleasant to me hereafter to think, that I didnot suffer so grievous an event to happen, without bearing witnessagainst it. 

"May I be allowed to say, that I augur nothing but evil, if we in anyrespect prejudice our title to be a branch of the Apostolic Church?That Article of the Creed, I need hardly observe to your Lordship, isof such constraining power, that, if _we_ will not claim it, and useit for ourselves, _others_ will use it in their own behalf againstus. Men who learn, whether by means of documents or measures, whetherfrom the statements or the acts of persons in authority, that ourcommunion is not a branch of the one Church, I foresee with muchgrief, will be tempted to look out for that Church elsewhere. 

"It is to me a subject of great dismay, that, as far as the Churchhas lately spoken out, on the subject of the opinions which I andothers hold, those opinions are, not merely not _sanctioned_ (forthat I do not ask), but not even _suffered_. 

"I earnestly hope that your Lordship will excuse my freedom in thusspeaking to you of some members of your Most Rev. And Right Rev. Body. With every feeling of reverent attachment to your Lordship, I am, etc. "

PROTEST

"Whereas the Church of England has a claim on the allegiance ofCatholic believers only on the ground of her own claim to beconsidered a branch of the Catholic Church:

"And whereas the recognition of heresy, indirect as well as direct, goes far to destroy such claim in the case of any religious bodyadvancing it:

"And whereas to admit maintainers of heresy to communion, withoutformal renunciation of their errors, goes far towards recognising thesame:

"And whereas Lutheranism and Calvinism are heresies, repugnant toScripture, springing up three centuries since, and anathematised byEast as well as West:

"And whereas it is reported that the Most Reverend Primate and otherRight Reverend Rulers of our Church have consecrated a Bishop with aview to exercising spiritual jurisdiction over Protestant, that is, Lutheran and Calvinist congregations in the East (under theprovisions of an Act made in the last session of Parliament to amendan Act made in the 26th year of the reign of his Majesty King Georgethe Third, intituled, 'An Act to empower the Archbishop ofCanterbury, or the Archbishop of York for the time being, toconsecrate to the office of Bishop persons being subjects or citizensof countries out of his Majesty's dominions'), dispensing at thesame time, not in particular cases and accidentally, but as if onprinciple and universally, with any abjuration of error on the partof such congregations, and with any reconciliation to the Church onthe part of the presiding Bishop; thereby giving some sort of formalrecognition to the doctrines which such congregations maintain:

"And whereas the dioceses in England are connected together by soclose an intercommunion, that what is done by authority in one, immediately affects the rest:

"On these grounds, I in my place, being a priest of the EnglishChurch and Vicar of St. Mary the Virgin's, Oxford, by way ofrelieving my conscience, do hereby solemnly protest against themeasure aforesaid, and disown it, as removing our Church from herpresent ground and tending to her disorganisation. 

"JOHN HENRY NEWMAN. 

"November 11, 1841. "

Looking back two years afterwards on the above-mentioned and otheracts, on the part of Anglican Ecclesiastical authorities, I observe:"Many a man might have held an abstract theory about the CatholicChurch, to which it was difficult to adjust the Anglican--might haveadmitted a suspicion, or even painful doubts about the latter--yetnever have been impelled onwards, had our Rulers preserved thequiescence of former years; but it is the corroboration of a present, living, and energetic heterodoxy, which realises and makes thempractical; it has been the recent speeches and acts of authorities, who had so long been tolerant of Protestant error, which have givento inquiry and to theory its force and its edge. "

As to the project of a Jerusalem Bishopric, I never heard of any goodor harm it has ever done, except what it has done for me; which manythink a great misfortune, and I one of the greatest of mercies. Itbrought me on to the beginning of the end. 

Part VI

History of My Religious Opinions--1841-1845

From the end of 1841, I was on my death-bed, as regards my membershipwith the Anglican Church, though at the time I became aware of itonly by degrees. I introduce what I have to say with this remark, byway of accounting for the character of this remaining portion of mynarrative. A death-bed has scarcely a history; it is a tediousdecline, with seasons of rallying and seasons of falling back; andsince the end is foreseen, or what is called a matter of time, it haslittle interest for the reader, especially if he has a kind heart. Moreover, it is a season when doors are closed and curtains drawn, and when the sick man neither cares nor is able to record the stagesof his malady. I was in these circumstances, except so far as I wasnot allowed to die in peace, --except so far as friends, who had stilla full right to come in upon me, and the public world which had not, have given a sort of history to those last four years. But inconsequence, my narrative must be in great measure documentary. Letters of mine to friends have come to me since their deaths; othershave been kindly lent me for the occasion; and I have some drafts ofletters, and notes of my own, though I have no strictly personal orcontinuous memoranda to consult, and have unluckily mislaid somevaluable papers. 

And first as to my position in the view of duty; it was this:--1. Ihad given up my place in the Movement in my letter to the Bishop ofOxford in the spring of 1841; but 2. I could not give up my dutiestowards the many and various minds who had more or less been broughtinto it by me; 3. I expected or intended gradually to fall back intoLay Communion; 4. I never contemplated leaving the Church of England;5. I could not hold office in her, if I were not allowed to hold theCatholic sense of the Articles; 6. I could not go to Rome, while shesuffered honours to be paid to the Blessed Virgin and the Saintswhich I thought incompatible with the Supreme, Incommunicable Gloryof the One Infinite and Eternal; 7. I desired a union with Rome underconditions, Church with Church; 8. I called Littlemore my TorresVedras, and thought that some day we might advance again within theAnglican Church, as we had been forced to retire; 9. I kept back allpersons who were disposed to go to Rome with all my might. 

And I kept them back for three or four reasons; 1, because what Icould not in conscience do myself, I could not suffer them to do; 2, because I thought that in various cases they were acting underexcitement; 3, while I held St. Mary's, because I had duties to myBishop and to the Anglican Church; and 4, in some cases, because Ihad received from their Anglican parents or superiors direct chargeof them. 

This was my view of my duty from the end of 1841, to my resignationof St. Mary's in the autumn of 1843. And now I shall relate my view, during that time, of the state of the controversy between theChurches. 

As soon as I saw the hitch in the Anglican argument, during my courseof reading in the summer of 1839, I began to look about, as I havesaid, for some ground which might supply a controversial basis formy need. The difficulty in question had affected my view both ofAntiquity and Catholicity; for, while the history of St. Leo showedme that the deliberate and eventual consent of the great body of theChurch ratified a doctrinal decision, it also showed that the rule ofAntiquity was not infringed, though a doctrine had not been publiclyrecognised as a portion of the dogmatic foundation of the Church, till centuries after the time of the apostles. Thus, whereas theCreeds tell us that the Church is One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic, I could not prove that the Anglican communion was an integral part ofthe One Church, on the ground of its being Apostolic or Catholic, without reasoning in favour of what are commonly called the Romancorruptions; and I could not defend our separation from Rome withoutusing arguments prejudicial to those great doctrines concerning ourLord, which are the very foundation of the Christian religion. The_Via Media_ was an impossible idea; it was what I had called"standing on one leg;" and it was necessary, if my old issue of thecontroversy was to be retained, to go further either one way or theother. 

Accordingly, I abandoned that old ground and took another. Ideliberately quitted the old Anglican ground as untenable; but I didnot do so all at once, but as I became more and more convinced ofthe state of the case. The Jerusalem bishopric was the ultimatecondemnation of the old theory of the _Via Media_; from that time theAnglican Church was, in my mind, either not a normal portion of thatOne Church to which the promises were made, or at least in anabnormal state, and from that time I said boldly, as I did in myProtest, and as indeed I had even intimated in my letter to theBishop of Oxford, that the Church in which I found myself had noclaim on me, except on condition of its being a portion of the OneCatholic Communion, and that that condition must ever be borne inmind as a practical matter, and had to be distinctly proved. Allthis was not inconsistent with my saying that, at this time, I hadno thought of leaving that Church because I felt some of my oldobjections against Rome as strongly as ever. I had no right, I had noleave, to act against my conscience. That was a higher rule than anyargument about the notes of the Church. 

Under these circumstances I turned for protection to the note ofsanctity, with a view of showing that we had at least one of thenecessary notes, as fully as the Church of Rome; or, at least, without entering into comparisons, that we had it in such asufficient sense as to reconcile us to our position, and to supplyfull evidence, and a clear direction, on the point of practical duty. We had the note of life, --not any sort of life, not such only as cancome of nature, but a supernatural Christian life, which could onlycome directly from above. In my article in the _British Critic_, towhich I have so often referred, in January, 1840 (before the time ofTract 90), I said of the Anglican Church that "she has the note ofpossession, the note of freedom from party titles, the note oflife, --a tough life and a vigorous; she has ancient descent, unbrokencontinuance, agreement in doctrine with the Ancient Church. "Presently I go on to speak of sanctity: "Much as Roman Catholics maydenounce us at present as schismatical, they could not resist us ifthe Anglican communion had but that one note of the Church uponit, --sanctity. The Church of the day [fourth century] could notresist Meletius; his enemies were fairly overcome by him, by hismeekness and holiness, which melted the most jealous of them. " And Icontinue, "We are almost content to say to Romanists, account us notyet as a branch of the Catholic Church, though we be a branch, tillwe are like a branch, provided that when we do become like a branch, then you consent to acknowledge us, " etc. And so I was led on inthe Article to that sharp attack on English Catholics for theirshort-comings as regards this note, a good portion of which I havealready quoted in another place. It is there that I speak ofthe great scandal which I took at their political, social, andcontroversial bearing; and this was a second reason why I fell backupon the note of sanctity, because it took me away from the necessityof making any attack upon the doctrines of the Roman Church, nay, from the consideration of her popular beliefs, and brought me upona ground on which I felt I could not make a mistake; for what isa higher guide for us in speculation and in practice, than thatconscience of right and wrong, of truth and falsehood, thosesentiments of what is decorous, consistent, and noble, which ourCreator has made a part of our original nature? Therefore I felt Icould not be wrong in attacking what I fancied was a fact, --theunscrupulousness, the deceit, and the intriguing spirit of the agentsand representatives of Rome. 

This reference to holiness as the true test of a Church was steadilykept in view in what I wrote in connection with Tract 90. I say inits Introduction, "The writer can never be party to forcing theopinions or projects of one school upon another; religious changesshould be the act of the whole body. No good can come of a changewhich is not a development of feelings springing up freely and calmlywithin the bosom of the whole body itself; every change in religion"must be "attended by deep repentance; changes" must be "nurtured inmutual love; we cannot agree without a supernatural influence;"we must come "together to God to do for us what we cannot do forourselves. " In my letter to the bishop I said, "I have set myselfagainst suggestions for considering the differences between ourselvesand the foreign Churches with a view to their adjustment. " (I meantin the way of negotiation, conference, agitation, or the like. ) "Ourbusiness is with ourselves, --to make ourselves more holy, moreself-denying, more primitive, more worthy of our high calling. To beanxious for a composition of differences is to begin at the end. Political reconciliations are but outward and hollow, and fallacious. And till Roman Catholics renounce political efforts, and manifest intheir public measures the light of holiness and truth, perpetual waris our only prospect. "

According to this theory, a religious body is part of the OneCatholic and Apostolic Church, if it has the succession and the creedof the apostles, with the note of holiness of life; and there is muchin such a view to approve itself to the direct common sense andpractical habits of an Englishman. However, with events consequentupon Tract 90, I sunk my theory to a lower level. What could be saidin apology, when the bishops and the people of my Church, not onlydid not suffer, but actually rejected primitive Catholic doctrine, and tried to eject from their communion all who held it? after theBishops' charges? after the Jerusalem "abomination?" Well, this couldbe said; still we were not nothing: we could not be as if we neverhad been a Church; we were "Samaria. " This then was that lower levelon which I placed myself, and all who felt with me, at the end of1841. 

To bring out this view was the purpose of four sermons preached atSt. Mary's in December of that year. Hitherto I had not introducedthe exciting topics of the day into the pulpit; on this occasionI did. I did so, for the moment was urgent; there was greatunsettlement of mind among us, in consequence of those same eventswhich had unsettled me. One special anxiety, very obvious, which wascoming on me now, was, that what was "one man's meat was anotherman's poison. " I had said even of Tract 90, "It was addressed to oneset of persons, and has been used and commented on by another;" stillmore was it true now, that whatever I wrote for the service of thosewhom I knew to be in trouble of mind, would become on the one handmatter of suspicion and slander in the mouths of my opponents, and ofdistress and surprise to those on the other hand, who had nodifficulties of faith at all. Accordingly, when I publishedthese four sermons at the end of 1843, I introduced them with arecommendation that none should read them who did not need them. But in truth the virtual condemnation of Tract 90, after that thewhole difficulty seemed to have been weathered, was an enormousdisappointment and trial. My Protest also against the JerusalemBishopric was an unavoidable cause of excitement in the case of many;but it calmed them too, for the very fact of a Protest was a reliefto their impatience. And so, in like manner, as regards the foursermons, of which I speak, though they acknowledged freely the greatscandal which was involved in the recent episcopal doings, yet at thesame time they might be said to bestow upon the multiplied disordersand shortcomings of the Anglican Church a sort of place in theRevealed Dispensation, and an intellectual position in thecontroversy, and the dignity of a great principle, for unsettledminds to take and use, which might teach them to recognise their ownconsistency, and to be reconciled to themselves, and which mightabsorb into itself and dry up a multitude of their grudgings, discontents, misgivings, and questionings, and lead the way tohumble, thankful, and tranquil thoughts;--and this was the effectwhich certainly it produced on myself. 

The point of these sermons is, that, in spite of the rigid characterof the Jewish law, the formal and literal force of its precepts, andthe manifest schism, and worse than schism, of the ten tribes, yetin fact they were still recognised as a people by the Divine Mercy;that the great prophets Elias and Eliseus were sent to them, and notonly so, but sent to preach to them and reclaim them, without anyintimation that they must be reconciled to the line of David and theAaronic priesthood, or go up to Jerusalem to worship. They were notin the Church, yet they had the means of grace and the hope ofacceptance with their Maker. The application of all this to theAnglican Church was immediate;--whether a man could assume orexercise ministerial functions under the circumstances, or not, mightnot clearly appear, though it must be remembered that England had theapostolic priesthood, whereas Israel had no priesthood at all; but sofar was clear, that there was no call at all for an Anglican to leavehis Church for Rome, though he did not believe his own to be part ofthe One Church:--and for this reason, because it was a fact that thekingdom of Israel was cut off from the Temple; and yet its subjects, neither in a mass, nor as individuals, neither the multitudes onMount Carmel, nor the Shunammite and her household, had any commandgiven them, though miracles were displayed before them, to break offfrom their own people, and to submit themselves to Judah. [3]

It is plain that a theory such as this, whether the marks of a divinepresence and life in the Anglican Church were sufficient to provethat she was actually within the covenant, or only sufficient toprove that she was at least enjoying extraordinary and uncovenantedmercies, not only lowered her level in a religious point of view, but weakened her controversial basis. Its very novelty made itsuspicious; and there was no guarantee that the process of subsidencemight not continue, and that it might not end in a submersion. Indeed, to many minds, to say that England was wrong was even to saythat Rome was right; and no ethical reasoning whatever could overcomein their case the argument from prescription and authority. To thisobjection I could only answer that I did not make my circumstances. Ifully acknowledged the force and effectiveness of the genuineAn glican theory, and that it was all but proof against the disputantsof Rome; but still like Achilles, it had a vulnerable point, and thatSt. Leo had found it out for me, and that I could not help it;--that, were it not for matter of fact, the theory would be great indeed, itwould be irresistible, if it were only true. When I became aCatholic, the editor of a magazine who had in former days accused me, to my indignation, of tending towards Rome, wrote to me to ask, whichof the two was now right, he or I? I answered him in a letter, partof which I here insert, as it will serve as a sort of leave-taking ofthe great theory, which is so specious to look upon, so difficult toprove, and so hopeless to work. 

"Nov. 8, 1845. I do not think, at all more than I did, that theAnglican principles which I advocated at the date you mention, leadmen to the Church of Rome. If I must specify what I mean by 'Anglicanprinciples, ' I should say, _e. G. _ taking _Antiquity_, not the_existing Church_, as the oracle of truth; and holding that the_Apostolical Succession_ is a sufficient guarantee of SacramentalGrace, without _union with the Christian Church throughout theworld_. I think these still the firmest, strongest ground againstRome--that is, _if they can be held_. They _have_ been held by many, and are far more difficult to refute in the Roman controversy, thanthose of any other religious body. 

"For myself, I found _I could not_ hold them. I left them. From thetime I began to suspect their unsoundness, I ceased to put themforward. When I was fairly sure of their unsoundness, I gave up myLiving. When I was fully confident that the Church of Rome was theonly true Church, I joined her. 

"I have felt all along that Bp. Bull's theology was the only theologyon which the English Church could stand. I have felt, that oppositionto the Church of Rome was _part_ of that theology; and that he whocould not protest against the Church of Rome was no true divine inthe English Church. I have never said, nor attempted to say, that anyone in office in the English Church, whether Bishop or incumbent, could be otherwise than in hostility to the Church of Rome. "

The _Via Media_ then disappeared for ever, and a new Theory, madeexpressly for the occasion, took its place. I was pleased with my newview. I wrote to an intimate friend, Dec. 13, 1841, "I think you willgive me the credit, Carissime, of not undervaluing the strength ofthe feelings which draw one [to Rome], and yet I am (I trust) quiteclear about my duty to remain where I am; indeed, much clearer than Iwas some time since. If it is not presumptuous to say, I have . .. Amuch more definite view of the promised inward Presence of Christwith us in the Sacraments now that the outward notes of it are beingremoved. And I am content to be with Moses in the desert, or withElijah excommunicated from the Temple. I say this, putting things atthe strongest. "

However, my friends of the moderate Apostolical party, who were myfriends for the very reason of my having been so moderate andAnglican myself in general tone in times past, who had stood up forTract 90 partly from faith in me, and certainly from generous andkind feeling, and had thereby shared an obloquy which was none oftheirs, were naturally surprised and offended at a line of argument, novel, and, as it appeared to them, wanton, which threw the wholecontroversy into confusion, stultified my former principles, andsubstituted, as they would consider, a sort of methodisticself-contemplation, especially abhorrent both to my nature and to mypast professions, for the plain and honest tokens, as they werecommonly received, of a divine mission in the Anglican Church. Theycould not tell whither I was going; and were still further annoyed, when I would view the reception of Tract 90 by the public and theBishops as so grave a matter, and threw about what they consideredmysterious hints of "eventualities, " and would not simply say, "AnAnglican I was born, and an Anglican I will die. " One of my familiarfriends, who was in the country at Christmas, 1841-2, reported to methe feeling that prevailed about me; and how I felt towards it willappear in the following letter of mine, written in answer:--

"Oriel, Dec. 24, 1841. Carissime, you cannot tell how sad youraccount of Moberly has made me. His view of the sinfulness of thedecrees of Trent is as much against union of Churches as againstindividual conversions. To tell the truth, I never have examinedthose decrees with this object, and have no view; but that is verydifferent from having a deliberate view against them. Could not hesay _which_ they are? I suppose Transubstantiation is one. A. B. , though of course he would not like to have it repeated, does notscruple at that. I have not my mind clear. Moberly must recollectthat Palmer thinks they all bear a Catholic interpretation. Formyself, this only I see, that there is indefinitely more in theFathers against our own state of alienation from Christendom thanagainst the Tridentine Decrees. 

"The only thing I can think of [that I can have said] is this, thatthere were persons who, if our Church committed herself to heresy, _sooner_ than think that there was no Church anywhere, would believethe Roman to be the Church; and therefore would on faith accept whatthey could not otherwise acquiesce in. I suppose, it would be norelief to him to insist upon the circumstance that there is noimmediate danger. Individuals can never be answered for of course;but I should think lightly of that man, who, for some act of theBishops, should all at once leave the Church. Now, considering howthe Clergy really are improving, considering that this row is evenmaking them read the Tracts, is it not possible we may all be in abetter state of mind seven years hence to consider these matters? andmay we not leave them meanwhile to the will of Providence? I _cannot_believe this work has been of man; God has a right to His own work, to do what He will with it. May we not try to leave it in His hands, and be content?

"If you learn anything about Barter, which leads you to think that Ican relieve him by a letter, let me know. The truth is this--our goodfriends do not read the Fathers; they assent to us from the commonsense of the case: then, when the Fathers, and we, say _more_ thantheir common sense, they are dreadfully shocked. 

"The Bishop of London has rejected a man, 1. For holding _any_Sacrifice in the Eucharist. 2. The Real Presence. 3. That there is agrace in Ordination. [4]

"Are we quite sure that the Bishops will not be drawing up somestringent declarations of faith? is this what Moberly fears? Wouldthe Bishop of Oxford accept them? If so, I should be driven into theRefuge for the Destitute [Littlemore]. But I promise Moberly, I woulddo my utmost to catch all dangerous persons and clap them intoconfinement there. "

Christmas Day, 1841. "I have been dreaming of Moberly all night. Should not he and the like see, that it is unwise, unfair, andimpatient to ask others, What will you do under circumstances, whichhave not, which may never come? Why bring fear, suspicion, anddisunion into the camp about things which are merely _in posse_?Natural, and exceedingly kind as Barter's and another friend'sletters were, I think they have done great harm. I speak mostsincerely when I say, that there are things which I neithercontemplate, nor wish to contemplate; but, when I am asked about themten times, at length I begin to contemplate them. 

"He surely does not mean to say, that _nothing_ could separate a manfrom the English Church, _e. G. _ its avowing Socinianism; its holdingthe Holy Eucharist in a Socinian sense. Yet, he would say, it was not_right_ to contemplate such things. 

"Again, our case is [diverging] from that of Ken's. To say nothing ofthe last miserable century, which has given us to _start_ from a muchlower level and with much less to _spare_ than a Churchman in the17th century, questions of _doctrine_ are now coming in; with him, itwas a question of discipline. 

"If such dreadful events were realised, I cannot help thinking weshould all be vastly more agreed than we think now. Indeed, is itpossible (humanly speaking) that those, who have so much the sameheart, should widely differ? But let this be considered, as toalternatives. _What_ communion could we join? Could the Scotch orAmerican sanction the presence of its Bishops and congregations inEngland, without incurring the imputation of schism, unless indeed(and is that likely?) they denounced the English as heretical?

"Is not this a time of strange providences? is it not our safestcourse, without looking to consequences, to do simply _what we thinkright_ day by day? shall we not be sure to go wrong, if we attempt totrace by anticipation the course of divine Providence?

"Has not all our misery, as a Church, arisen from people being afraidto look difficulties in the face? They have palliated acts, when theyshould have denounced them. There is that good fellow, WorcesterPalmer, can whitewash the Ecclesiastical Commission and the JerusalemBishopric. And what is the consequence? that our Church has, throughcenturies, ever been sinking lower and lower, till good part of itspretensions and professions is a mere sham, though it be a duty tomake the best of what we have received. Yet, though bound to make thebest of other men's shams, let us not incur any of our own. Thetruest friends of our Church are they, who say boldly when herrulers are going wrong, and the consequences; and (to speakcatachrestically) _they_ are most likely to die in the Church, whoare, under these black circumstances, most prepared to leave it. 

"And I will add, that, considering the traces of God's grace whichsurround us, I am very sanguine, or rather confident (if it is rightso to speak), that our prayers and our alms will come up as amemorial before God, and that all this miserable confusion tends togood. 

"Let us not then be anxious, and anticipate differences in prospect, when we agree in the present. 

"P. S. I think, when friends [_i. E. _ the extreme party] get over theirfirst unsettlement of mind and consequent vague apprehensions, whichthe new attitude of the Bishops, and our feelings upon it, havebrought about, they will get contented and satisfied. They will seethat they exaggerated things. .. . Of course it would have been wrongto anticipate what one's feelings would be under such a painfulcontingency as the Bishops' charging as they have done--so it seemsto me nobody's fault. Nor is it wonderful that others" [moderate men]"are startled" [_i. E. _ at my Protest, etc. Etc. ]; "yet they shouldrecollect that the more implicit the reverence one pays to a Bishop, the more keen will be one's perception of heresy in him. The cord isbinding and compelling, till it snaps. 

"Men of reflection would have seen this, if they had looked that way. Last spring, a very high churchman talked to me of resisting myBishop, of asking him for the Canons under which he acted, and soforth; but those, who have cultivated a loyal feeling towards theirsuperiors, are the most loving servants, or the most zealousprotestors. If others became so too, if the clergy of Chesterdenounced the heresy of their diocesan, they would be doing theirduty, and relieving themselves of the share which they otherwise havein any possible defection of their brethren. "

"St. Stephen's [December 26]. How I fidget! I now fear that the noteI wrote yesterday only makes matters worse by _disclosing_ too much. This is always my great difficulty. 

"In the present state of excitement on both sides, I think of leavingout altogether my reassertion of No. 90 in my Preface to Volume 6, and merely saying, 'As many false reports are at this time incirculation about him, he hopes his well-wishers will take thisVolume as an indication of his real thoughts and feelings: those whoare not, he leaves in God's hand to bring them to a better mind inHis own time. ' What do you say to the logic, sentiment, and proprietyof this?"

There was one very old friend, at a distance from Oxford, afterwardsa Catholic, now dead some years, who must have said something to me, I do not know what, which challenged a frank reply; for I disclosedto him, I do not know in what words, my frightful suspicion, hithertoonly known to two persons, as regards my Anglicanism, perhaps I mightbreak down in the event, that perhaps we were both out of the Church. He answered me thus, under date of Jan. 29, 1842: "I don't think thatI ever was so shocked by any communication, which was ever made tome, as by your letter of this morning. It has quite unnerved me. .. . Icannot but write to you, though I am at a loss where to begin . .. Iknow of no act by which we have dissevered ourselves from thecommunion of the Church Universal. .. . The more I study Scripture, themore am I impressed with the resemblance between the Romish principlein the Church and the Babylon of St. John. .. . I am ready to grievethat I ever directed my thoughts to theology, if it is indeed souncertain, as your doubts seem to indicate. "

While my old and true friends were thus in trouble about me, Isuppose they felt not only anxiety but pain, to see that I wasgradually surrendering myself to the influence of others, who had nottheir own claims upon me, younger men, and of a cast of minduncongenial to my own. A new school of thought was rising, as isusual in such movements, and was sweeping the original party of themovement aside, and was taking its place. The most prominent personin it, was a man of elegant genius, of classical mind, of rare talentin literary composition:--Mr. Oakeley. He was not far from my ownage; I had long known him, though of late years he had not been inresidence at Oxford; and quite lately, he has been taking severalsignal occasions of renewing that kindness, which he ever showedtowards me when we were both in the Anglican Church. His tone of mindwas not unlike that which gave a character to the early movement; hewas almost a typical Oxford man, and, as far as I recollect, both inpolitical and ecclesiastical views, would have been of one spiritwith the Oriel party of 1826-1833. But he had entered late into theMovement; he did not know its first years; and, beginning with a newstart, he was naturally thrown together with that body of eager, acute, resolute minds who had begun their Catholic life about thesame time as he, who knew nothing about the _Via Media_, but hadheard much about Rome. This new party rapidly formed and increased, in and out of Oxford, and, as it so happened, contemporaneously withthat very summer, when I received so serious a blow to myecclesiastical views from the study of the Monophysite controversy. These men cut into the original Movement at an angle, fell across itsline of thought, and then set about turning that line in its owndirection. They were most of them keenly religious men, with a trueconcern for their souls as the first matter of all, with a great zealfor me, but giving little certainty at the time as to which way theywould ultimately turn. Some in the event have remained firm toAnglicanism, some have become Catholics, and some have found a refugein Liberalism. Nothing was clearer concerning them, than that theyneeded to be kept in order; and on me who had had so much to do withthe making of them, that duty was as clearly incumbent; and it isequally clear, from what I have already said, that I was just theperson, above all others, who could not undertake it. There are nofriends like old friends; but of those old friends, few could helpme, few could understand me, many were annoyed with me, some wereangry, because I was breaking up a compact party, and some, as amatter of conscience, could not listen to me. I said, bitterly, "Youare throwing me on others, whether I will or no. " Yet still I hadgood and true friends around me of the old sort, in and out of Oxfordtoo. But on the other hand, though I neither was so fond of thepersons, nor of the methods of thought, which belonged to this newschool, excepting two or three men, as of the old set, though I couldnot trust in their firmness of purpose, for, like a swarm of flies, they might come and go, and at length be divided and dissipated, yetI had an intense sympathy in their object and in the direction oftheir path, in spite of my old friends, in spite of my old life-longprejudices. In spite of my ingrained fears of Rome, and the decisionof my reason and conscience against her usages, in spite of myaffection for Oxford and Oriel, yet I had a secret longing love ofRome the author of English Christianity, and I had a true devotion tothe Blessed Virgin, in whose College I lived, whose altar I served, and whose immaculate purity I had in one of my earliest printedSermons made much of. And it was the consciousness of this bias inmyself, if it is so to be called, which made me preach so earnestlyagainst the danger of being swayed by our sympathy rather than ourreason in religious inquiry. And moreover, the members of this newschool looked up to me, as I have said, and did me true kindnesses, and really loved me, and stood by me in trouble, when others wentaway, and for all this I was grateful; nay, many of them were introuble themselves, and in the same boat with me, and that was afurther cause of sympathy between us; and hence it was, when the newschool came on in force, and into collision with the old, I had notthe heart, any more than the power, to repel them; I was in greatperplexity, and hardly knew where I stood; I took their part: and, when I wanted to be in peace and silence, I had to speak out, and Iincurred the charge of weakness from some men, and of mysteriousness, shuffling, and underhand dealing from the majority. 

Now I will say here frankly, that this sort of charge is a matterwhich I cannot properly meet, because I cannot duly realise it. Ihave never had any suspicion of my own honesty; and, when men saythat I was dishonest, I cannot grasp the accusation as a distinctconception, such as it is possible to encounter. If a man said to me, "On such a day and before such persons you said a thing was white, when it was black, " I understand what is meant well enough, and I canset myself to prove an alibi or to explain the mistake; or if a mansaid to me, "You tried to gain me over to your party, intending totake me with you to Rome, but you did not succeed, " I can give himthe lie, and lay down an assertion of my own as firm and as exact ashis, that not from the time that I was first unsettled, did I everattempt to gain any one over to myself or to my Romanizing opinions, and that it is only his own coxcombical fancy which has bred such athought in him: but my imagination is at a loss in presence of thosevague charges, which have commonly been brought against me, charges, which are made up of impressions, and understandings, and inferences, and hearsay, and surmises. Accordingly, I shall not make the attempt, for, in doing so, I should be dealing blows in the air; what I shallattempt is to state what I know of myself and what I recollect, andleave its application to others. 

While I had confidence in the _Via Media_, and thought that nothingcould overset it, I did not mind laying down large principles, whichI saw would go further than was commonly perceived. I considered thatto make the _Via Media_ concrete and substantive, it must be muchmore than it was in outline; that the Anglican Church must have aceremonial, a ritual, and a fulness of doctrine and devotion, whichit had not at present, if it were to compete with the Roman Churchwith any prospect of success. Such additions would not remove it fromits proper basis, but would merely strengthen and beautify it: such, for instance, would be confraternities, particular devotions, reverence for the Blessed Virgin, prayers for the dead, beautifulchurches, rich offerings to them and in them, monastic houses, andmany other observances and institutions, which I used to say belongedto us as much as to Rome, though Rome had appropriated them, andboasted of them, by reason of our having let them slip from us. Theprinciple, on which all this turned, is brought out in one of theletters I published on occasion of Tract 90. "The age is moving, "I said, "towards something; and most unhappily the one religiouscommunion among us, which has of late years been practically inpossession of this something, is the Church of Rome. She alone, amidall the errors and evils of her practical system, has given freescope to the feelings of awe, mystery, tenderness, reverence, devotedness, and other feelings which may be especially calledCatholic. The question then is, whether we shall give them up to theRoman Church or claim them for ourselves. .. . But if we do give themup, we must give up the men who cherish them. We must consent eitherto give up the men, or to admit their principles. " With thesefeelings I frankly admit, that, while I was working simply for thesake of the Anglican Church, I did not at all mind, though I foundmyself laying down principles in its defence, which went beyond thatparticular defence which high-and-dry men thought perfection, andthough I ended in framing a sort of defence, which they might call arevolution, while I thought it a restoration. Thus, for illustration, I might discourse upon the "Communion of Saints" in such a manner, (though I do not recollect doing so) as might lead the way towardsdevotion to the Blessed Virgin and the saints on the one hand, andtowards prayers for the dead on the other. In a memorandum of theyear 1844 or 1845, I thus speak on this subject: "If the Church benot defended on establishment grounds, it must be upon principles, which go far beyond their immediate object. Sometimes I saw thesefurther results, sometimes not. Though I saw them, I sometimes didnot say that I saw them; so long as I thought they were inconsistent, _not_ with our Church, but only with the existing opinions, I was notunwilling to insinuate truths into our Church, which I thought had aright to be there. "

To so much I confess; but I do not confess, I simply deny that I eversaid anything which secretly bore against the Church of England, knowing it myself, in order that others might unwarily accept it. Itwas indeed one of my great difficulties and causes of reserve, astime went on, that I at length recognised in principles which I hadhonestly preached as if Anglican, conclusions favourable to the RomanChurch. Of course I did not like to confess this; and, wheninterrogated, was in consequence in perplexity. The prime instance ofthis was the appeal to Antiquity; St. Leo had overset, in my ownjudgment, its force in the special argument for Anglicanism; yet Iwas committed to Antiquity, together with the whole Anglican school;what then was I to say, when acute minds urged this or thatapplication of it against the _Via Media_? it was impossible that, insuch circumstances, any answer could be given which was notunsatisfactory, or any behaviour adopted which was not mysterious. Again, sometimes in what I wrote I went just as far as I saw, andcould as little say more, as I could see what is below the horizon;and therefore, when asked as to the consequences of what I had said, had no answer to give. Again, sometimes when I was asked, whethercertain conclusions did not follow from a certain principle, I mightnot be able to tell at the moment, especially if the matter werecomplicated; and for this reason, if for no other, because thereis great difference between a conclusion in the abstract and aconclusion in the concrete, and because a conclusion may be modifiedin fact by a conclusion from some opposite principle. Or it mightso happen that I got simply confused, by the very clearness of thelogic which was administered to me, and thus gave my sanction toconclusions which really were not mine; and when the report of thoseconclusions came round to me through others, I had to unsay them. Andthen again, perhaps I did not like to see men scared or scandalisedby unfeeling logical inferences, which would not have touched them tothe day of their death, had they not been made to eat them. And thenI felt altogether the force of the maxim of St. Ambrose, "Non indialecticâ complacuit Deo salvum facere populum suum;"--I had a greatdislike of paper logic. For myself, it was not logic that carried meon; as well might one say that the quicksilver in the barometerchanges the weather. It is the concrete being that reasons; pass anumber of years, and I find my mind in a new place; how? the wholeman moves; paper logic is but the record of it. All the logic in theworld would not have made me move faster towards Rome than I did; aswell might you say that I have arrived at the end of my journey, because I see the village church before me, as venture to assert thatthe miles, over which my soul had to pass before it got to Rome, could be annihilated, even though I had had some far clearer viewthan I then had, that Rome was my ultimate destination. Great actstake time. At least this is what I felt in my own case; and thereforeto come to me with methods of logic, had in it the nature of aprovocation, and, though I do not think I ever showed it, made mesomewhat indifferent how I met them, and perhaps led me, as a meansof relieving my impatience, to be mysterious or irrelevant, or togive in because I could not reply. And a greater trouble still thanthese logical mazes, was the introduction of logic into every subjectwhatever, so far, that is, as it was done. Before I was at Oriel, Irecollect an acquaintance saying to me that "the Oriel Common Roomstank of Logic. " One is not at all pleased when poetry, or eloquence, or devotion, is considered as if chiefly intended to feed syllogisms. Now, in saying all this, I am saying nothing against the deep pietyand earnestness which were characteristics of this second phase ofthe Movement, in which I have taken so prominent a part. What I havebeen observing is, that this phase had a tendency to bewilder and toupset me, and, that instead of saying so, as I ought to have done, ina sort of easiness, for what I know, I gave answers at random, whichhave led to my appearing close or inconsistent. 

I have turned up two letters of this period, which in a measureillustrate what I have been saying. The first is what I said to theBishop of Oxford on occasion of Tract 90:

"March 20, 1841. No one can enter into my situation but myself. I seea great many minds working in various directions and a variety ofprinciples with multiplied bearings; I act for the best. I sincerelythink that matters would not have gone better for the Church, had Inever written. And if I write I have a choice of difficulties. It iseasy for those who do not enter into those difficulties to say, 'Heought to say this and not say that, ' but things are wonderfullylinked together, and I cannot, or rather I would not be dishonest. When persons too interrogate me, I am obliged in many cases to givean opinion, or I seem to be underhand. Keeping silence looks likeartifice. And I do not like people to consult or respect me, fromthinking differently of my opinions from what I know them to be. Andagain (to use the proverb) what is one man's food is another man'spoison. All these things make my situation very difficult. But thatcollision must at some time ensue between members of the Church ofopposite sentiments, I have long been aware. The time and mode hasbeen in the hand of Providence; I do not mean to exclude my own greatimperfections in bringing it about; yet I still feel obliged to thinkthe Tract necessary. 

"Dr. Pusey has shown me your Lordship's letters to him. I am mostdesirous of saying in print anything which I can honestly say toremove false impressions created by the Tract. "

The second is part of the notes of a letter sent to Dr. Pusey in thenext year:

"October 16, 1842. As to my being entirely with A. B. , I do not knowthe limits of my own opinions. If A. B. Says that this or that is adevelopment from what I have said, I cannot say Yes or No. It isplausible, it _may_ be true. Of course the fact that the Roman Church_has_ so developed and maintained, adds great weight to theantecedent plausibility. I cannot assert that it is not true; but Icannot, with that keen perception which some people have, appropriateit. It is a nuisance to me to be _forced_ beyond what I can fairlyaccept. "

There was another source of the perplexity with which at this time Iwas encompassed, and of the reserve and mysteriousness, of which itgave me the credit. After Tract 90 the Protestant world would not letme alone; they pursued me in the public journals to Littlemore. Reports of all kinds were circulated about me. "Imprimis, why did Igo up to Littlemore at all? For no good purpose certainly; I darednot tell why. " Why, to be sure, it was hard that I should be obligedto say to the Editors of newspapers that I went up there to say myprayers; it was hard to have to tell the world in confidence, that Ihad a certain doubt about the Anglican system, and could not at thatmoment resolve it, or say what would come of it; it was hard to haveto confess that I had thought of giving up my living a year or twobefore, and that this was a first step to it. It was hard to haveto plead, that, for what I knew, my doubts would vanish, if thenewspapers would be so good as to give me time and let me alone. Who would ever dream of making the world his confidant? yet I wasconsidered insidious, sly, dishonest, if I would not open my heartto the tender mercies of the world. But they persisted: "What was Idoing at Littlemore?" Doing there? have I not retreated from you?have I not given up my position and my place? am I alone, ofEnglishmen, not to have the privilege to go where I will, noquestions asked? am I alone to be followed about by jealous pryingeyes, who note down whether I go in at a back door or at the front, and who the men are who happen to call on me in the afternoon?Cowards! if I advanced one step, you would run away; it is not youthat I fear: "Di me terrent, et Jupiter hostis. " It is because theBishops still go on charging against me, though I have quite givenup: it is that secret misgiving of heart which tells me that they dowell, for I have neither lot nor part with them: this it is whichweighs me down. I cannot walk into or out of my house, but curiouseyes are upon me. Why will you not let me die in peace? Woundedbrutes creep into some hole to die in, and no one grudges it them. Let me alone, I shall not trouble you long. This was the keen heavyfeeling which pierced me, and, I think, these are the very words thatI used to myself. I asked, in the words of a great motto, "Ubilapsus? quid feci?" One day when I entered my house, I found a flightof undergraduates inside. Heads of houses, as mounted patrols, walkedtheir horses round those poor cottages. Doctors of divinity divedinto the hidden recesses of that private tenement uninvited, and drewdomestic conclusions from what they saw there. I had thought that anEnglishman's house was his castle; but the newspapers thoughtotherwise, and at last the matter came before my good Bishop. Iinsert his letter, and a portion of my reply to him:--

"April 12, 1842. So many of the charges against yourself and yourfriends which I have seen in the public journals have been, within myown knowledge, false and calumnious, that I am not apt to pay muchattention to what is asserted with respect to you in the newspapers. 

"In a" [newspaper], "however, of April 9, there appears a paragraphin which it is asserted, as a matter of notoriety, that a 'so-calledAnglo-Catholic Monastery is in process of erection at Littlemore, andthat the cells of dormitories, the chapel, the refectory, thecloisters all may be seen advancing to perfection, under the eye of aParish Priest of the Diocese of Oxford. '

"Now, as I have understood that you really are possessed of sometenements at Littlemore--as it is generally believed that they aredestined for the purposes of study and devotion--and as muchsuspicion and jealousy are felt about the matter, I am anxious toafford you an opportunity of making me an explanation on the subject. 

"I know you too well not to be aware that you are the last man livingto attempt in my Diocese a revival of the Monastic orders (inanything approaching to the Romanist sense of the term) withoutprevious communication with me--or indeed that you should take uponyourself to originate any measure of importance without authorityfrom the heads of the Church--and therefore I at once exonerate youfrom the accusation brought against you by the newspaper I havequoted, but I feel it nevertheless a duty to my Diocese and myself, as well as to you, to ask you to put it in my power to contradictwhat, if uncontradicted, would appear to imply a glaring invasion ofall ecclesiastical discipline on _your_ part, or of inexcusableneglect and indifference to my duties on _mine_. "

"April 14, 1842. I am very much obliged by your Lordship's kindnessin allowing me to write to you on the subject of my house atLittlemore; at the same time I feel it hard both on your Lordship andmyself that the restlessness of the public mind should oblige you torequire an explanation of me. 

"It is now a whole year that I have been the subject of incessantmisrepresentation. A year since I submitted entirely to yourLordship's authority; and with the intention of following out theparticular act enjoined upon me, I not only stopped the series ofTracts, on which I was engaged, but withdrew from all publicdiscussion of Church matters of the day, or what may be calledecclesiastical politics. I turned myself at once to the preparationfor the Press of the translations of St. Athanasius to which I hadlong wished to devote myself, and I intended and intend to employmyself in the like theological studies, and in the concerns of my ownparish and in practical works. 

"With the same view of personal improvement I was led more seriouslyto a design which had been long on my mind. For many years, at leastthirteen, I have wished to give myself to a life of greater religiousregularity than I have hitherto led; but it is very unpleasant toconfess such a wish even to my Bishop, because it seems arrogant, andbecause it is committing me to a profession which may come tonothing. For what have I done that I am to be called to account bythe world for my private actions, in a way in which no one else iscalled? Why may I not have that liberty which all others are allowed?I am often accused of being underhand and uncandid in respect to theintentions to which I have been alluding: but no one likes his owngood resolutions noised about, both from mere common delicacy andfrom fear lest he should not be able to fulfil them. I feel it verycruel, though the parties in fault do not know what they are doing, that very sacred matters between me and my conscience are made amatter of public talk. May I take a case parallel though different?suppose a person in prospect of marriage; would he like the subjectdiscussed in newspapers, and parties, circumstances, etc. , etc. , publicly demanded of him, at the penalty of being accused of craftand duplicity?

"The resolution I speak of has been taken with reference to myselfalone, and has been contemplated quite independent of theco-operation of any other human being, and without reference tosuccess or failure other than personal, and without regard to theblame or approbation of man. And being a resolution of years, and oneto which I feel God has called me, and in which I am violating norule of the Church any more than if I married, I should have toanswer for it, if I did not pursue it, as a good Providence madeopenings for it. In pursuing it then I am thinking of myself alone, not aiming at any ecclesiastical or external effects. At the sametime of course it would be a great comfort to me to know that God hadput it into the hearts of others to pursue their personal edificationin the same way, and unnatural not to wish to have the benefit oftheir presence and encouragement, or not to think it a greatinfringement on the rights of conscience if such personal and privateresolutions were interfered with. Your Lordship will allow me to addmy firm conviction that such religious resolutions are most necessaryfor keeping a certain class of minds firm in their allegiance to ourChurch; but still I can as truly say that my own reason for anythingI have done has been a personal one, without which I should not haveentered upon it, and which I hope to pursue whether with or withoutthe sympathies of others pursuing a similar course. " . .. 

"As to my intentions, I purpose to live there myself a good deal, asI have a resident curate in Oxford. In doing this, I believe I amconsulting for the good of my parish, as my population at Littlemoreis at least equal to that of St. Mary's in Oxford, and the _whole_ ofLittlemore is double of it. It has been very much neglected; and inproviding a parsonage-house at Littlemore, as this will be, and willbe called, I conceive I am doing a very great benefit to my people. At the same time it has appeared to me that a partial or temporaryretirement from St. Mary's Church might be expedient under theprevailing excitement. 

"As to the quotation from the [newspaper] which I have not seen, yourLordship will perceive from what I have said, that no 'monastery isin process of erection;' there is no 'chapel;' no 'refectory, ' hardlya dining-room or parlour. The 'cloisters' are my shed connecting thecottages. I do not understand what 'cells of dormitories' means. Ofcourse I can repeat your Lordship's words that 'I am not attemptinga revival of the Monastic Orders, in anything approaching to theRomanist sense of the term, ' or 'taking on myself to originate anymeasure of importance without authority from the Heads of theChurch. ' I am attempting nothing ecclesiastical, but somethingpersonal and private, and which can only be made public, not private, by newspapers and letter-writers, in which sense the most sacred andconscientious resolves and acts may certainly be made the objects ofan unmannerly and unfeeling curiosity. "

One calumny there was which the bishop did not believe, and of whichof course he had no idea of speaking. It was that I was actually inthe service of the enemy. I had been already received into theCatholic Church, and was rearing at Littlemore a nest of Papists, who, like me, were to take the Anglican oaths which they did notbelieve, and for which they got dispensation from Rome, and thus indue time were to bring over to that unprincipled Church great numbersof the Anglican clergy and laity. Bishops gave their countenance tothis imputation against me. The case was simply this:--as I madeLittlemore a place of retirement for myself, so did I offer it toothers. There were young men in Oxford, whose testimonials for Ordershad been refused by their Colleges; there were young clergymen, whohad found themselves unable from conscience to go on with theirduties, and had thrown up their parochial engagements. Such men werealready going straight to Rome, and I interposed; I interposed forthe reasons I have given in the beginning of this portion of mynarrative. I interposed from fidelity to my clerical engagements, andfrom duty to my Bishop; and from the interest which I was bound totake in them, and from belief that they were premature or excited. Their friends besought me to quiet them, if I could. Some of themcame to live with me at Littlemore. They were laymen, or in the placeof laymen. I kept some of them back for several years from beingreceived into the Catholic Church. Even when I had given up myliving, I was still bound by my duty to their parents or friends, andI did not forget still to do what I could for them. The immediateoccasion of my resigning St. Mary's, was the unexpected conversion ofone of them. After that, I felt it was impossible to keep my postthere, for I had been unable to keep my word with my Bishop. 

The following letters refer, more or less, to these men, whether theywere with me at Littlemore or not:--

1. 1843 or 1844. "I did not explain to you sufficiently the state ofmind of those who were in danger. I only spoke of those who wereconvinced that our Church was external to the Church Catholic, thoughthey felt it unsafe to trust their own private convictions; butthere are two other states of mind; 1, that of those who areunconsciously near Rome, and whose _despair_ about our Church wouldat once develop into a state of conscious approximation, or a_quasi_-resolution to go over; 2, those who feel they can with a safeconscience remain with us _while_ they are allowed to _testify_ inbehalf of Catholicism, _i. E. _ as if by such acts they were puttingour Church, or at least that portion of it in which they wereincluded, in the position of catechumens. "

2. "July 16, 1843. I assure you that I feel, with only too muchsympathy, what you say. You need not be told that the whole subjectof our position is a subject of anxiety to others beside yourself. Itis no good attempting to offer advice, when perhaps I might raisedifficulties instead of removing them. It seems to me quite a case, in which you should, as far as may be, make up your mind foryourself. Come to Littlemore by all means. We shall all rejoice inyour company; and, if quiet and retirement are able, as they verylikely will be, to reconcile you to things as they are, you shallhave your fill of them. How distressed poor Henry Wilberforce mustbe! Knowing how he values you, I feel for him; but, alas! he has hisown position, and every one else has his own, and the misery is thatno two of us have exactly the same. 

"It is very kind of you to be so frank and open with me, as you are;but this is a time which throws together persons who feel alike. MayI without taking a liberty sign myself, yours affectionately, etc. "

3. "1845. I am concerned to find you speak of me in a tone ofdistrust. If you knew me ever so little, instead of hearing of mefrom persons who do not know me at all, you would think differentlyof me, whatever you thought of my opinions. Two years since, I gotyour son to tell you my intention of resigning St. Mary's, before Imade it public, thinking you ought to know it. When you expressedsome painful feeling upon it, I told him I could not consent to hisremaining here, painful as it would be to me to part with him, without your written sanction. And this you did me the favour togive. 

"I believe you will find that it has been merely a delicacy on yourson's part, which has delayed his speaking to you about me for twomonths past; a delicacy, lest he should say either too much or toolittle about me. I have urged him several times to speak to you. 

"Nothing can be done after your letter, but to recommend him to go toA. B. (his home) at once. I am very sorry to part with him. "

4. The following letter is addressed to a Catholic prelate, whoaccused me of coldness in my conduct towards him:--

"April 16, 1845. I was at that time in charge of a ministerial officein the English Church, with persons entrusted to me, and a Bishop toobey; how could I possibly write otherwise than I did withoutviolating sacred obligations and betraying momentous interests whichwere upon me? I felt that my immediate, undeniable duty, clear ifanything was clear, was to fulfil that trust. It might be rightindeed to give it up, that was another thing; but it never could beright to hold it, and to act as if I did not hold it. .. . If you knewme, you would acquit me, I think, of having ever felt towards yourLordship an unfriendly spirit, or ever having had a shadow on my mind(as far as I dare witness about myself) of what might be calledcontroversial rivalry or desire of getting the better, or fear lestthe world should think I had got the worst, or irritation of anykind. You are too kind indeed to imply this, and yet your words leadme to say it. And now in like manner, pray believe, though I cannotexplain it to you, that I am encompassed with responsibilities, sogreat and so various, as utterly to overcome me, unless I have mercyfrom Him, who all through my life has sustained and guided me, and towhom I can now submit myself, though men of all parties are thinkingevil of me. "

5. "August 30, 1843. A. B. Has suddenly conformed to the Church ofRome. He was away for three weeks. I suppose I must say in mydefence, that he promised me distinctly to remain in our Church threeyears, before I received him here. "

Such fidelity, however, was taken _in malam partem_ by the highAnglican authorities; they thought it insidious. I happen still tohave a correspondence, in which the chief place is filled by one ofthe most eminent bishops of the day, a theologian and reader of theFathers, a moderate man, who at one time was talked of as likely tohave the reversion of the Primacy. A young clergyman in his diocesebecame a Catholic; the papers at once reported on authority from "avery high quarter, " that, after his reception, "the Oxford men hadbeen recommending him to retain his living. " I had reasons forthinking that the allusion was to me, and I authorised the editor ofa paper, who had inquired of me on the point, to "give it, as far asI was concerned, an unqualified contradiction;"--when from a motiveof delicacy he hesitated, I added "my direct and indignantcontradiction. " "Whoever is the author of it, no correspondence orintercourse of any kind, direct or indirect, has passed, " I continuedto the Editor, "between Mr. S. And myself, since his conforming tothe Church of Rome, except my formally and merely acknowledging thereceipt of his letter, in which he informed me of the fact, without, as far as I recollect, my expressing any opinion upon it. You maystate this as broadly as I have set it down. " My denial was told tothe Bishop; what took place upon it is given in a letter from which Icopy. "My father showed the letter to the Bishop, who, as he laid itdown, said, 'Ah, those Oxford men are not ingenuous. ' 'How do youmean?' I asked my father. 'Why, ' said the Bishop, 'they advised Mr. B. S. To retain his living after he turned Catholic. I know that tobe a fact, because A. B. Told me so. '" "The Bishop, " continues theletter, "who is perhaps the most influential man in reality on thebench, evidently believes it to be the truth. " Dr. Pusey too wrotefor me to the Bishop; and the Bishop instantly beat a retreat. "Ihave the honour, " he says in the autograph which I transcribe, "toacknowledge the receipt of your note, and to say in reply that it hasnot been stated by me (though such a statement has, I believe, appeared in some of the Public Prints), that Mr. Newman had advisedMr. B. S. To retain his living, after he had forsaken our Church. Butit has been stated to me, that Mr. Newman was in close correspondencewith Mr. B. S. , and, being fully aware of his state of opinions andfeelings, yet advised him to continue in our communion. Allow me toadd, " he says to Dr. Pusey, "that neither your name, nor that of Mr. Keble, was mentioned to me in connection with that of Mr. B. S. "

I was not going to let the Bishop off on this evasion, so I wrote tohim myself. After quoting his letter to Dr. Pusey, I continued, "I beg to trouble your Lordship with my own account of the twoallegations" [_close correspondence_ and _fully aware_, etc. ] "whichare contained in your statement, and which have led to your speakingof me in terms which I hope never to deserve. 1. Since Mr. B. S. Hasbeen in your Lordship's diocese, I have seen him in common rooms orprivate parties in Oxford two or three times, when I never (as far asI can recollect) had any conversation with him. During the same timeI have, to the best of my memory, written to him three letters. Onewas lately, in acknowledgment of his informing me of his change ofreligion. Another was last summer, when I asked him (to no purpose)to come and stay with me in this place. The earliest of the threeletters was written just a year since, as far as I recollect, and itcertainly was on the subject of his joining the Church of Rome. Iwrote this letter at the earnest wish of a friend of his. I cannotbe sure that, on his replying, I did not send him a brief note inexplanation of points in my letter which he had misapprehended. Icannot recollect any other correspondence between us. 

"2. As to my knowledge of his opinions and feelings, as far as Iremember, the only point of perplexity which I knew, the only pointwhich to this hour I know, as pressing upon him, was that of thePope's supremacy. He professed to be searching Antiquity whether thesee of Rome had formally that relation to the whole Church whichRoman Catholics now assign to it. My letter was directed to thepoint, that it was his duty not to perplex himself with arguments on[such] a question . .. And to put it altogether aside. .. . It is hardthat I am put upon my memory, without knowing the details of thestatement made against me, considering the various correspondence inwhich I am from time to time unavoidably engaged. .. . Be assured, myLord, that there are very definite limits, beyond which persons likeme would never urge another to retain preferment in the EnglishChurch, nor would retain it themselves; and that the censure whichhas been directed against them by so many of its Rulers has a verygrave bearing upon those limits. " The Bishop replied in a civilletter, and sent my own letter to his original informant, who wroteto me the letter of a gentleman. It seems that an anxious lady hadsaid something or other which had been misinterpreted, against herreal meaning, into the calumny which was circulated, and so thereport vanished into thin air. I closed the correspondence with thefollowing letter to the Bishop:--

"I hope your Lordship will believe me when I say, that statementsabout me, equally incorrect with that which has come to yourLordship's ears, are from time to time reported to me as credited andrepeated by the highest authorities in our Church, though it is veryseldom that I have the opportunity of denying them. I am obligedby your Lordship's letter to Dr. Pusey as giving me such anopportunity. " Then I added, with a purpose, "Your Lordship willobserve that in my Letter I had no occasion to proceed to thequestion, whether a person holding Roman Catholic opinions can inhonesty remain in our Church. Lest then any misconception shouldarise from my silence, I here take the liberty of adding, that I seenothing wrong in such a person's continuing in communion with us, provided he holds no preferment or office, abstains from themanagement of ecclesiastical matters, and is bound by no subscriptionor oath to our doctrines. "

This was written on March 7, 1843, and was in anticipation of my ownretirement into lay communion. This again leads me to a remark; fortwo years I was in lay communion, not indeed being a Catholic in myconvictions, but in a state of serious doubt, and with the probableprospect of becoming some day, what as yet I was not. Under thesecircumstances I thought the best thing I could do was to give up dutyand to throw myself into lay communion, remaining an Anglican. Icould not go to Rome, while I thought what I did of the devotions shesanctioned to the Blessed Virgin and the Saints. I did not give upmy fellowship, for I could not be sure that my doubts would not bereduced or overcome, however unlikely I thought such an event. But Igave up my living; and, for two years before my conversion, I took noclerical duty. My last sermon was in September, 1843; then I remainedat Littlemore in quiet for two years. But it was made a subject ofreproach to me at the time, and is at this day, that I did not leavethe Anglican Church sooner. To me this seems a wonderful charge;why, even had I been quite sure that Rome was the true Church, theAnglican Bishops would have had no just subject of complaintagainst me, provided I took no Anglican oath, no clerical duty, noecclesiastical administration. Do they force all men who go to theirChurches to believe in the 39 Articles, or to join in the AthanasianCreed? However, I was to have other measure dealt to me; greatauthorities ruled it so; and a learned controversialist in the Norththought it a shame that I did not leave the Church of England as muchas ten years sooner than I did. His nephew, an Anglican clergyman, kindly wished to undeceive him on this point. So, in 1850, after somecorrespondence, I wrote the following letter, which will be ofservice to this narrative, from its chronological character:--

"Dec. 6, 1849. Your uncle says, 'If he (Mr. N. ) will declare, sansphrase, as the French say, that I have laboured under an entiremistake, and that he was not a concealed Romanist during the tenyears in question' (I suppose, the last ten years of my membershipwith the Anglican Church), 'or during any part of the time, mycontroversial antipathy will be at an end, and I will readily expressto him that I am truly sorry that I have made such a mistake. '

"So candid an avowal is what I should have expected from a mind likeyour uncle's. I am extremely glad he has brought it to this issue. 

"By a 'concealed Romanist' I understand him to mean one, who, professing to belong to the Church of England, in his heart and willintends to benefit the Church of Rome, at the expense of the Churchof England. He cannot mean by the expression merely a person who infact is benefiting the Church of Rome, while he is intending tobenefit the Church of England, for that is no discredit to himmorally, and he (your uncle) evidently means to impute blame. 

"In the sense in which I have explained the words, I can simply andhonestly say that I was not a concealed Romanist during the whole, orany part of, the years in question. 

"For the first four years of the ten (up to Michaelmas, 1839) Ihonestly wished to benefit the Church of England, at the expense ofthe Church of Rome:

"For the second four years I wished to benefit the Church of Englandwithout prejudice to the Church of Rome:

"At the beginning of the ninth year (Michaelmas, 1843) I began todespair of the Church of England, and gave up all clerical duty; andthen, what I wrote and did was influenced by a mere wish not toinjure it, and not by the wish to benefit it:

"At the beginning of the tenth year I distinctly contemplated leavingit, but I also distinctly told my friends that it was in mycontemplation. 

"Lastly, during the last half of that tenth year I was engaged inwriting a book (Essay on Development) in favour of the Roman Church, and indirectly against the English; but even then, till it wasfinished, I had not absolutely intended to publish it, wishingto reserve to myself the chance of changing my mind when theargumentative views which were actuating me had been distinctlybrought out before me in writing. 

"I wish this statement, which I make from memory, and withoutconsulting any document, severely tested by my writings and doings, as I am confident it will, on the whole, be borne out, whatever realor apparent exceptions (I suspect none) have to be allowed by me indetail. 

"Your uncle is at liberty to make what use he pleases of thisexplanation. "

I have now reached an important date in my narrative, the year 1843, but before proceeding to the matters which it contains, I will insertportions of my letters from 1841 to 1843, addressed to Catholicacquaintances. 

1. "April 8, 1841 . .. The unity of the Church Catholic is very nearmy heart, only I do not see any prospect of it in our time; and Idespair of its being effected without great sacrifices on all hands. As to resisting the Bishop's will, I observe that no point ofdoctrine or principle was in dispute, but a course of action, thepublication of certain works. I do not think you sufficientlyunderstood our position. I suppose you would obey the holy see insuch a case; now, when we were separated from the Pope, his authorityreverted to our Diocesans. Our Bishop is our Pope. It is our theory, that each diocese is an integral Church, intercommunion being a duty(and the breach of it a sin), but not essential to Catholicity. To have resisted my Bishop, would have been to place myself in anutterly false position, which I never could have recovered. Dependupon it, the strength of any party lies in its being _true to itstheory_. Consistency is the life of a movement. 

"I have no misgivings whatever that the line I have taken can beother than a prosperous one: that is, in itself, for of courseProvidence may refuse to us its legitimate issues for our sins. 

"I am afraid, that in one respect you may be disappointed. It is mytrust, though I must not be too sanguine, that we shall not haveindividual members of our communion going over to yours. What one'sduty would be under other circumstances, what our duty ten or twentyyears ago, I cannot say; but I do think that there is less of privatejudgment in going with one's Church, than in leaving it. I canearnestly desire a union between my Church and yours. I cannot listento the thought of your being joined by individuals among us. "

2. "April 26, 1841. My only anxiety is lest your branch of the Churchshould not meet us by those reforms which surely are _necessary_. Itnever could be, that so large a portion of Christendom should havesplit off from the communion of Rome, and kept up a protest for 300years for nothing. I think I never shall believe that so much pietyand earnestness would be found among Protestants, if there werenot some very grave errors on the side of Rome. To suppose thecontrary is most unreal, and violates all one's notions of moralprobabilities. All aberrations are founded on, and have their lifein, some truth or other--and Protestantism, so widely spread and solong enduring, must have in it, and must be witness for, a greattruth or much truth. That I am an advocate for Protestantism, youcannot suppose--but I am forced into a _Via Media_, short of Rome, asit is at present. "

3. "May 5, 1841. While I most sincerely hold that there is in theRoman Church a traditionary system which is not necessarily connectedwith her essential formularies, yet, were I ever so much to change mymind on this point, this would not tend to bring me from my presentposition, providentially appointed in the English Church. Thatyour communion was unassailable, would not prove that mine wasindefensible. Nor would it at all affect the sense in which I receiveour Articles; they would still speak against certain definite errors, though you had reformed them. 

"I say this lest any lurking suspicion should be left in the mind ofyour friends that persons who think with me are likely, by the growthof their present views, to find it imperative on them to pass over toyour communion. Allow me to state strongly, that if you have any suchthoughts, and proceed to act upon them, your friends will becommitting a fatal mistake. We have (I trust) the principle andtemper of obedience too intimately wrought into us to allow of ourseparating ourselves from our ecclesiastical superiors because inmany points we may sympathise with others. We have too great a horrorof the principle of private judgment to trust it in so immense amatter as that of changing from one communion to another. We may becast out of our communion, or it may decree heresy to be truth--youshall say whether such contingencies are likely; but I do not seeother conceivable causes of our leaving the Church in which we werebaptized. 

"For myself, persons must be well acquainted with what I have writtenbefore they venture to say whether I have much changed my mainopinions and cardinal views in the course of the last eight years. That my _sympathies_ have grown towards the religion of Rome I do notdeny; that my _reasons_ for _shunning_ her communion have lessened oraltered it would be difficult perhaps to prove. And I wish to go byreason, not by feeling. "

4. "June 18, 1841. You urge persons whose views agree with mine tocommence a movement in behalf of a union between the Churches. Nowin the letters I have written, I have uniformly said that I did notexpect that union in our time, and have discouraged the notion of allsudden proceedings with a view to it. I must ask your leave to repeaton this occasion most distinctly, that I cannot be party to anyagitation, but mean to remain quiet in my own place, and to do all Ican to make others take the same course. This I conceive to be mysimple duty; but, over and above this, I will not set my teeth onedge with sour grapes. I know it is quite within the range ofpossibilities that one or another of our people should go over toyour communion; however, it would be a greater misfortune to you thangrief to us. If your friends wish to put a gulf between themselvesand us, let them make converts, but not else. Some months ago, Iventured to say that I felt it a painful duty to keep aloof from allRoman Catholics who came with the intention of opening negotiationsfor the union of the Churches: when you now urge us to petition ourBishops for a union, this, I conceive, is very like an act ofnegotiation. "

5. I have the first sketch or draft of a letter, which I wrote to azealous Catholic layman: it runs as follows, as I have preservedit:--September 12, 1841. "It would rejoice all Catholic minds amongus, more than words can say, if you could persuade members of theChurch of Rome to take the line in politics which you so earnestlyadvocate. Suspicion and distrust are the main causes at present ofthe separation between us, and the nearest approaches in doctrinewill but increase the hostility, which, alas, our people feel towardsyours, while these causes continue. Depend upon it, you must not relyupon our Catholic tendencies till they are removed. I am not speakingof myself, or of any friends of mine; but of our Church generally. Whatever _our_ personal feelings may be, we shall but tend to raiseand spread a _rival_ Church to yours in the four quarters of theworld, unless _you_ do what none but you _can_ do. Sympathies, whichwould flow over to the Church of Rome, as a matter of course, did sheadmit them, will but be developed in the consolidation of our ownsystem, if she continues to be the object of our suspicions andfears. I wish, of course I do, that our own Church may be built upand extended, but still, not at the cost of the Church of Rome, notin opposition to it. I am sure, that, while you suffer, we suffer toofrom the separation; _but we cannot remove the obstacles_; it is withyou to do so. You do not fear us; we fear you. Till we cease to fearyou, we cannot love you. 

"While you are in your present position, the friends of Catholicunity in our Church are but fulfilling the prediction of those ofyour body who are averse to them, viz. That they will be merelystrengthening a rival communion to yours. Many of you say that _we_are your greatest enemies; we have said so ourselves: so we are, sowe shall be, as things stand at present. We are keeping people fromyou, by supplying their wants in our own Church. We _are_ keepingpersons from you: do you wish us to keep them from you for a time orfor ever? It rests with you to determine. I do not fear that you willsucceed among us; you will not supplant our Church in the affectionsof the English nation; only through the English Church can you actupon the English nation. I wish of course our Church should beconsolidated, with and through and in your communion, for its sake, and your sake, and for the sake of unity. 

"Are you aware that the more serious thinkers among us are used, asfar as they dare form an opinion, to regard the spirit of Liberalismas the characteristic of the destined Antichrist? In vain does anyone clear the Church of Rome from the badges of Antichrist, in whichProtestants would invest her, if she deliberately takes up herposition in the very quarter, whither we have cast them, when we tookthem off from her. Antichrist is described as the [greek: anomos], as exalting himself above the yoke of religion and law. The spiritof lawlessness came in with the Reformation, and Liberalism is itsoffspring. 

"And now I fear I am going to pain you by telling you, that youconsider the approaches in doctrine on our part towards you, closerthan they really are. I cannot help repeating what I have many timessaid in print, that your services and devotions to St. Mary in matterof fact do most deeply pain me. I am only stating it as a fact. 

"Again, I have nowhere said that I can accept the decrees of Trentthroughout, nor implied it. The doctrine of Transubstantiation is agreat difficulty with me, as being, as I think, not primitive. Norhave I said that our Articles in all respects admit of a Romaninterpretation; the very word 'Transubstantiation' is disowned inthem. 

"Thus, you see, it is not merely on grounds of expedience that we donot join you. There are positive difficulties in the way of it. And, even if there were not, we shall have no divine warrant for doing so, while we think that the Church of England is a branch of the trueChurch, and that intercommunion with the rest of Christendomis necessary, not for the life of a particular Church, but forits health only. I have never disguised that there are actualcircumstances in the Church of Rome, which pain me much; of theremoval of these I see no chance, while we join you one by one; butif our Church were prepared for a union, she might make her terms;she might gain the Cup; she might protest against the extreme honourspaid to St. Mary; she might make some explanation of the doctrine ofTransubstantiation. I am not prepared to say that a reform in otherbranches of the Roman Church would be necessary for our uniting withthem, however desirable in itself, so that we were allowed to make areform in our own country. We do not look towards Rome as believingthat its communion is infallible, but that union is a duty. "

The following letter was occasioned by the present of a book, fromthe friend to whom it is written; more will be said on the subject ofit presently:--

"Nov. 22, 1842. I only wish that your Church were more known among usby such writings. You will not interest us in her, till we see her, not in politics, but in her true functions of exhorting, teaching, and guiding. I wish there were a chance of making the leading menamong you understand, what I believe is no novel thought to yourself. It is not by learned discussions, or acute arguments, or reports ofmiracles, that the heart of England can be gained. It is by men'approving themselves, ' like the Apostle, 'ministers of Christ. '

"As to your question, whether the Volume you have sent is notcalculated to remove my apprehensions that another gospel issubstituted for the true one in your practical instructions, before Ican answer it in any way, I ought to know how far the Sermons whichit comprises are _selected_ from a number, or whether they are thewhole, or such as the whole, which have been published of theauthor's. I assure you, or at least I trust, that, if it is everclearly brought home to me that I have been wrong in what I have saidon this subject, my public avowal of that conviction will only be aquestion of time with me. 

"If, however, you saw our Church as we see it, you would easilyunderstand that such a change of feeling, did it take place, wouldhave no necessary tendency, which you seem to expect, to draw aperson from the Church of England to that of Rome. There is a divinelife among us, clearly manifested, in spite of all our disorders, which is as great a note of the Church, as any can be. Why should weseek our Lord's presence elsewhere, when He vouchsafes it to us wherewe are? What _call_ have we to change our communion?

"Roman Catholics will find this to be the state of things in time tocome, whatever promise they may fancy there is of a large secessionto their Church. This man or that may leave us, but there will be nogeneral movement. There is, indeed, an incipient movement of our_Church_ towards yours, and this your leading men are doing all theycan to frustrate by their unwearied efforts at all risks to carry offindividuals. When will they know their position, and embrace a largerand wiser policy?"

The last letter, which I have inserted, is addressed to my dearfriend, Dr. Russell, the present President of Maynooth. He had, perhaps, more to do with my conversion than any one else. He calledupon me, in passing through Oxford in the summer of 1841, and I thinkI took him over some of the buildings of the University. He calledagain another summer, on his way from Dublin to London. I do notrecollect that he said a word on the subject of religion on eitheroccasion. He sent me at different times several letters; he wasalways gentle, mild, unobtrusive, uncontroversial. He let me alone. He also gave me one or two books. Veron's Rule of Faith and someTreatises of the Wallenburghs was one; a volume of St. AlfonsoLiguori's Sermons was another; and to that the letter which I havelast inserted relates. 

Now it must be observed that the writings of St. Alfonso, as I knewthem by the extracts commonly made from them, prejudiced me as muchagainst the Roman Church as anything else, on account of what wascalled their "Mariolatry;" but there was nothing of the kind in thisbook. I wrote to ask Dr. Russell whether anything had been left outin the translation; he answered that there certainly was an omissionof one passage about the Blessed Virgin. This omission, in the caseof a book intended for Catholics, at least showed that such passagesas are found in the works of Italian authors were not acceptable toevery part of the Catholic world. Such devotional manifestations inhonour of our Lady had been my great _crux_ as regards Catholicism; Isay frankly, I do not fully enter into them now; I trust I do notlove her the less, because I cannot enter into them. They may befully explained and defended; but sentiment and taste do not run withlogic: they are suitable for Italy, but they are not suitable forEngland. But, over and above England, my own case was special; from aboy I had been led to consider that my Maker and I, His creature, were the two beings, certainly such, _in rerum naturâ_. I will nothere speculate, however, about my own feelings. Only this I know fullwell now, and did not know then, that the Catholic Church allows noimage of any sort, material or immaterial, no dogmatic symbol, norite, no sacrament, no Saint, not even the Blessed Virgin herself, tocome between the soul and its Creator. It is face to face, "solus cumsolo, " in all matters between man and his God. He alone creates; Healone has redeemed; before His awful eyes we go in death; in thevision of Him is our eternal beatitude. "Solus cum solo:"--Irecollect but indistinctly the effect produced upon me by thisvolume, but it must have been considerable. At all events I had got akey to a difficulty; in these sermons (or rather heads of sermons, asthey seem to be, taken down by a hearer) there is much of what wouldbe called legendary illustration; but the substance of them is plain, practical, awful preaching upon the great truths of salvation. What Ican speak of with greater confidence is the effect upon me a littlelater of the Exercises of St. Ignatius. Here again, in a pure matterof the most direct religion, in the intercourse between God and thesoul, during a season of recollection, of repentance, of goodresolution, of inquiry into vocation, the soul was "sola cum solo;"there was no cloud interposed between the creature and the Object ofhis faith and love. The command practically enforced was, "My son, give Me thy heart. " The devotions then to angels and saints as littleinterfered with the incommunicable glory of the Eternal, as the lovewhich we bear our friends and relations, our tender human sympathies, are inconsistent with that supreme homage of the heart to the Unseen, which really does but sanctify and exalt what is of earth. At a laterdate Dr. Russell sent me a large bundle of penny or half-penny booksof devotion, of all sorts, as they are found in the booksellers'shops at Rome; and, on looking them over, I was quite astonished tofind how different they were from what I had fancied, how littlethere was in them to which I could really object. I have given anaccount of them in my Essay on the Development of Doctrine. Dr. Russell sent me St. Alfonso's book at the end of 1842; however, itwas still a long time before I got over my difficulty, on the scoreof the devotions paid to the saints; perhaps, as I judge, from aletter I have turned up, it was some way into 1844, before I could besaid to have got over it. 

I am not sure that another consideration did not also weigh with methen. The idea of the Blessed Virgin was as it were _magnified_ inthe Church of Rome, as time went on, --but so were all the Christianideas; as that of the Blessed Eucharist. The whole scene of pale, faint, distant Apostolic Christianity is seen in Rome, as through atelescope or magnifier. The harmony of the whole, however, is ofcourse what it was. It is unfair then to take one Roman idea, that ofthe Blessed Virgin, out of what may be called its context. 

Thus I am brought to the principle of development of doctrine in theChristian Church, to which I gave my mind at the end of 1842. I hadspoken of it in the passage, which I quoted many pages back, in HomeThoughts Abroad, published in 1836; but it had been a favouritesubject with me all along. And it is certainly recognised in thatcelebrated Treatise of Vincent of Lerins, which has so often beentaken as the basis of the Anglican theory. In 1843 I began toconsider it steadily; and the general view to which I came is statedthus in a letter to a friend of the date of July 14, 1844; it will beobserved that, now as before, my _issue_ is still Faith _versus_Church:--

"The kind of considerations which weigh with me are such as thefollowing:--1. I am far more certain (according to the Fathers) thatwe _are_ in a state of culpable separation, _than_ that developmentsdo _not_ exist under the Gospel, and that the Roman developments arenot the true ones. 2. I am far more certain, that _our_ (modern)doctrines are wrong, _than_ that the _Roman_ (modern) doctrines arewrong. 3. Granting that the Roman (special) doctrines are not founddrawn out in the early Church, yet I think there is sufficient traceof them in it, to recommend and prove them, _on the hypothesis_ ofthe Church having a divine guidance, though not sufficient to provethem by itself. So that the question simply turns on the nature ofthe promise of the Spirit, made to the Church. 4. The proof of theRoman (modern) doctrine is as strong (or stronger) in Antiquity, asthat of certain doctrines which both we and Romans hold: _e. G. _ thereis more of evidence in Antiquity for the necessity of Unity, than forthe Apostolical Succession; for the Supremacy of the See of Rome, than for the Presence in the Eucharist; for the practice ofInvocation, than for certain books in the present Canon of Scripture, etc. , etc. 5. The analogy of the Old Testament, and also of the New, leads to the acknowledgment of doctrinal developments. "

And thus I was led on to a further consideration. I saw that theprinciple of development not only accounted for certain facts, but was in itself a remarkable philosophical phenomenon, givinga character to the whole course of Christian thought. It wasdiscernible from the first years of the Catholic teaching up to thepresent day, and gave to that teaching a unity and individuality. It served as a sort of test, which the Anglican could not exhibit, that modern Rome was in truth ancient Antioch, Alexandria, andConstantinople, just as a mathematical curve has its own law andexpression. 

And thus again I was led on to examine more attentively what I doubtnot was in my thoughts long before, viz. The concatenation ofargument by which the mind ascends from its first to its finalreligious idea; and I came to the conclusion that there was nomedium, in true philosophy, between Atheism and Catholicity, and thata perfectly consistent mind, under those circumstances in which itfinds itself here below, must embrace either the one or the other. And I hold this still: I am a Catholic by virtue of my believing in aGod; and if I am asked why I believe in a God, I answer that it isbecause I believe in myself, for I feel it impossible to believe inmy own existence (and of that fact I am quite sure) without believingalso in the existence of Him, who lives as a Personal, All-seeing, All-judging Being in my conscience. Now, I dare say, I have notexpressed myself with philosophical correctness, because I have notgiven myself to the study of what others have said on the subject;but I think I have a strong true meaning in what I say which willstand examination. 

Moreover, I came to the conclusion which I have been stating, onreasoning of the same nature, as that which I had adopted on thesubject of development of doctrine. The fact of the operation fromfirst to last of that principle of development is an argument infavour of the identity of Roman and Primitive Christianity; but asthere is a law which acts upon the subject-matter of dogmatictheology, so is there a law in the matter of religious faith. In thethird part of this narrative I spoke of certitude as the consequence, divinely intended and enjoined upon us, of the accumulative forceof certain given reasons which, taken one by one, were onlyprobabilities. Let it be recollected that I am historically relatingmy state of mind, at the period of my life which I am surveying. I amnot speaking theologically, nor have I any intention of going intocontroversy, or of defending myself; but speaking historically ofwhat I held in 1843-4, I say, that I believed in a God on a ground ofprobability, that I believed in Christianity on a probability, andthat I believed in Catholicism on a probability, and that all threewere about the same kind of probability, a cumulative, a transcendentprobability, but still probability; inasmuch as He who made us, hasso willed that in mathematics indeed we arrive at certitude by rigiddemonstration, but in religious inquiry we arrive at certitude byaccumulated probabilities--inasmuch as He who has willed thatwe should so act, co-operates with us in our acting, and therebybestows on us a certitude which rises higher than the logical forceof our conclusions. And thus I came to see clearly, and to have asatisfaction in seeing, that, in being led on into the Church ofRome, I was proceeding, not by any secondary grounds of reason, orby controversial points in detail, but was protected and justified, even in the use of those secondary arguments, by a great and broadprinciple. But, let it be observed, that I am stating a matter offact, not defending it; and if any Catholic says in consequence thatI have been converted in a wrong way, I cannot help that now. 

And now I have carried on the history of my opinions to their lastpoint, before I became a Catholic. I find great difficulty in fixingdates precisely; but it must have been some way into 1844, before Ithought not only that the Anglican Church was certainly wrong, butthat Rome was right. Then I had nothing more to learn on the subject. How "Samaria" faded away from my imagination I cannot tell, but itwas gone. Now to go back to the time when this last stage of myinquiry was in its commencement, which, if I dare assign dates, wastowards the end of 1842. 

In 1843, I took two very important and significant steps:--1. InFebruary, I made a formal retractation of all the hard things which Ihad said against the Church of Rome. 2. In September, I resigned theliving of St. Mary's, Littlemore inclusive:--I will speak of thesetwo acts separately. 

1. The words, in which I made my retractation, have given rise tomuch criticism. After quoting a number of passages from my writingsagainst the Church of Rome, which I withdrew, I ended thus:--"If youask me how an individual could venture, not simply to hold, but topublish such views of a communion so ancient, so wide-spreading, sofruitful in Saints, I answer that I said to myself, 'I am notspeaking my own words, I am but following almost a _consensus_ of thedivines of my own Church. They have ever used the strongest languageagainst Rome, even the most able and learned of them. I wish to throwmyself into their system. While I say what they say, I am safe. Suchviews, too, are necessary for our position. ' Yet I have reason tofear still, that such language is to be ascribed, in no smallmeasure, to an impetuous temper, a hope of approving myself topersons I respect, and a wish to repel the charge of Romanism. "

These words have been, and are, cited again and again against me, asif a confession that, when in the Anglican Church, I said thingsagainst Rome which I did not really believe. 

For myself, I cannot understand how any impartial man can so takethem; and I have explained them in print several times. I trust thatby this time they have been sufficiently explained by what I havesaid in former portions of this narrative; still I have a word or twoto say about them, which I have not said before I apologised in thelines in question for saying out charges against the Church of Romewhich I fully believed to be true. What is wonderful in such anapology?

There are many things a man may hold, which at the same time he mayfeel that he has no right to say publicly. The law recognises thisprinciple. In our own time, men have been imprisoned and fined forsaying true things of a bad king. The maxim has been held, that, "Thegreater the truth, the greater is the libel. " And so as to thejudgment of society, a just indignation would be felt against awriter who brought forward wantonly the weaknesses of a great man, though the whole world knew that they existed. No one is at libertyto speak ill of another without a justifiable reason, even though heknows he is speaking truth, and the public knows it too. Therefore Icould not speak ill against the Church of Rome, though I believedwhat I said, without a good reason. I did believe what I said; buthad I a good reason for saying it? I thought I had, viz. I said whatI believed was simply necessary in the controversy, in order todefend ourselves; I considered that the Anglican position could notbe defended, without bringing charges against the Church of Rome. Isnot this almost a truism? is it not what every one says, who speakson the subject at all? does any serious man abuse the Church ofRome, for the sake of abusing her, or because it justifies hisown religious position? What is the meaning of the very word"Protestantism, " but that there is a call to speak out? This then iswhat I said; "I know I spoke strongly against the Church of Rome; butit was no mere abuse, for I had a serious reason for doing so. "

But, not only did I think such language necessary for my Church'sreligious position, but all the great Anglican divines had thought sobefore me. They had thought so, and they had acted accordingly. Andtherefore I said, with much propriety, that I had not done it simplyout of my own head, but that I was following the track, or ratherreproducing the teaching, of those who had preceded me. 

I was pleading guilty; but pleading also that there were extenuatingcircumstances in the case. We all know the story of the convict, whoon the scaffold bit off his mother's ear. By doing so he did not denythe fact of his own crime, for which he was to hang; but he said thathis mother's indulgence, when he was a boy, had a good deal to dowith it. In like manner I had made a charge, and I had made it _exanimo_; but I accused others of having led me into believing it andpublishing it. 

But there was more than this meant in the words which I used:--first, I will freely confess, indeed I said it some pages back, that I wasangry with the Anglican divines. I thought they had taken me in; Ihad read the Fathers with their eyes; I had sometimes trusted theirquotations or their reasonings; and from reliance on them, I had usedwords or made statements, which properly I ought rigidly to haveexamined myself. I had exercised more faith than criticism in thematter. This did not imply any broad misstatements on my part, arising from reliance on their authority, but it implied carelessnessin matters of detail. And this of course was a fault. 

But there was a far deeper reason for my saying what I said in thismatter, on which I have not hitherto touched; and it was this:--Themost oppressive thought, in the whole process of my change ofopinion, was the clear anticipation, verified by the event, that itwould issue in the triumph of Liberalism. Against the Anti-dogmaticprinciple I had thrown my whole mind; yet now I was doing more thanany one else could do, to promote it. I was one of those who had keptit at bay in Oxford for so many years; and thus my very retirementwas its triumph. The men who had driven me from Oxford weredistinctly the Liberals; it was they who had opened the attack uponTract 90, and it was they who would gain a second benefit, if I wenton to retire from the Anglican Church. But this was not all. As Ihave already said, there are but two alternatives, the way to Rome, and the way to Atheism: Anglicanism is the halfway house on the oneside, and Liberalism is the halfway house on the other. How many menwere there, as I knew full well, who would not follow me now in myadvance from Anglicanism to Rome, but would at once leave Anglicanismand me for the Liberal camp. It is not at all easy (humanly speaking)to wind up an Englishman to a dogmatic level. I had done so in a goodmeasure, in the case both of young men and of laymen, the Anglican_Via Media_ being the representative of dogma. The dogmatic and theAnglican principle were one, as I had taught them; but I was breakingthe _Via Media_ to pieces, and would not dogmatic faith altogether bebroken up, in the minds of a great number, by the demolition of the_Via Media_? Oh! how unhappy this made me! I heard once from aneyewitness the account of a poor sailor whose legs were shattered bya ball, in the action off Algiers in 1816, and who was taken belowfor an operation. The surgeon and the chaplain persuaded him to havea leg off; it was done and the tourniquet applied to the wound. Then, they broke it to him that he must have the other off too. The poorfellow said, "You should have told me that, gentlemen, " anddeliberately unscrewed the instrument and bled to death. Would notthat be the case with many friends of my own? How could I ever hopeto make them believe in a second theology, when I had cheated them inthe first? with what face could I publish a new edition of a dogmaticcreed, and ask them to receive it as gospel? Would it not be plain tothem that no certainty was to be found anywhere? Well, in my defenceI could but make a lame apology; however, it was the true one, viz. That I had not read the Fathers critically enough; that in such nicepoints, as those which determine the angle of divergence between thetwo Churches, I had made considerable miscalculations; and how camethis about? Why the fact was, unpleasant as it was to avow, that Ihad leaned too much upon the assertions of Ussher, Jeremy Taylor, orBarrow, and had been deceived by them. Valeat quantum--it was allthat _could_ be said. This then was a chief reason of that wording ofthe retractation, which has given so much offence, and the followingletter will illustrate it:--

"April 3, 1844. I wish to remark on W. 's chief distress, that mychanging my opinion seemed to unsettle one's confidence in truth andfalsehood as external things, and led one to be suspicious of the newopinion as one became distrustful of the old. Now in what I shallsay, I am not going to speak in favour of my second thoughts incomparison of my first, but against such scepticism and unsettlementabout truth and falsehood generally, the idea of which is verypainful. 

"The case with me, then, was this, and not surely an unnaturalone:--as a matter of feeling and of duty I threw myself into thesystem which I found myself in. I saw that the English Church had atheological idea or theory as such, and I took it up. I read Laud onTradition, and thought it (as I still think it) very masterly. TheAnglican Theory was very distinctive. I admired it and took it onfaith. It did not (I think) occur to me to doubt it; I saw that itwas able, and supported by learning, and I felt it was a duty tomaintain it. Further, on looking into Antiquity and reading theFathers, I saw such portions of it as I examined, fully confirmed(_e. G. _ the supremacy of Scripture). There was only one questionabout which I had a doubt, viz. Whether it would _work_, for it hasnever been more than a paper system. .. . 

"So far from my change of opinion having any fair tendency tounsettle persons as to truth and falsehood viewed as objectiverealities, it should be considered whether such change is not_necessary_, if truth be a real objective thing, and be made toconfront a person who has been brought up in a system _short_ oftruth. Surely the _continuance_ of a person who wishes to go right ina wrong system, and not his _giving it up_, would be that whichmilitated against the objectiveness of Truth, leading, as it would, to the suspicion, that one thing and another were equally pleasing toour Maker, where men were sincere. 

"Nor surely is it a thing I need be sorry for, that I defended thesystem in which I found myself, and thus have had to unsay my words. For is it not one's duty, instead of beginning with criticism, to throw oneself generously into that form of religion which isprovidentially put before one? Is it right, or is it wrong, to beginwith private judgment? May we not, on the other hand, look for ablessing _through_ obedience even to an erroneous system, and aguidance even by means of it out of it? Were those who were strictand conscientious in their Judaism, or those who were lukewarm andsceptical, more likely to be led into Christianity, when Christ came?Yet in proportion to their previous zeal, would be their appearanceof inconsistency. Certainly, I have always contended that obedienceeven to an erring conscience was the way to gain light, and thatit mattered not where a man began, so that he began on what cameto hand, and in faith; and that anything might become a divinemethod of Truth; that to the pure all things are pure, and have aself-correcting virtue and a power of germinating. And though I haveno right at all to assume that this mercy is granted to me, yet thefact, that a person in my situation _may_ have it granted to him, seems to me to remove the perplexity which my change of opinion mayoccasion. 

"It may be said--I have said it to myself--'Why, however, did you_publish_? had you waited quietly, you would have changed youropinion without any of the misery, which now is involved in thechange, of disappointing and distressing people. ' I answer, thatthings are so bound up together, as to form a whole, and one cannottell what is or is not a condition of what. I do not see how possiblyI could have published the Tracts, or other works professing todefend our Church, without accompanying them with a strong protest orargument against Rome. The one obvious objection against the wholeAnglican line is, that it is Roman; so that I really think there wasno alternative between silence altogether, and forming a theory andattacking the Roman system. "

2. And now, secondly, as to my resignation of St. Mary's, which wasthe second of the steps which I took in 1843. The ostensible, direct, and sufficient cause of my doing so was the persevering attack of theBishops on Tract 90. I alluded to it in the letter which I haveinserted above, addressed to one of the most influential among them. A series of their _ex cathedrâ_ judgments, lasting through threeyears, and including a notice of no little severity in a Charge of myown Bishop, came as near to a condemnation of my Tract, and, so far, to a repudiation of the ancient Catholic doctrine, which was thescope of the Tract, as was possible in the Church of England. It wasin order to shield the Tract from such a condemnation, that I had atthe time of its publication so simply put myself at the disposal ofthe higher powers in London. At that time, all that was distinctlycontemplated in the way of censure, was the message which my Bishopsent me, that it was "objectionable. " That I thought was the end ofthe matter. I had refused to suppress it, and they had yielded thatpoint. Since I wrote the former portions of this narrative, I havefound what I wrote to Dr. Pusey on March 24, while the matter was inprogress. "The more I think of it, " I said, "the more reluctant I amto suppress Tract 90, though _of course_ I will do it if the Bishopwishes it; I cannot, however, deny that I shall feel it a severeact. " According to the notes which I took of the letters or messageswhich I sent to him in the course of that day, I went on to say, "Myfirst feeling was to obey without a word; I will obey still; but myjudgment has steadily risen against it ever since. " Then in thepostscript, "If I have done any good to the Church, I do ask theBishop this favour, as my reward for it, that he would not insist ona measure, from which I think good will not come. However, I willsubmit to him. " Afterwards, I get stronger still: "I have almost cometo the resolution, if the Bishop publicly intimates that I mustsuppress the Tract, or speaks strongly in his charge against it, tosuppress it indeed, but to resign my living also. I could not inconscience act otherwise. You may show this in any quarter youplease. "

All my then hopes, all my satisfaction at the apparent fulfilment ofthose hopes, were at an end in 1843. It is not wonderful then, thatin May of that year I addressed a letter on the subject of St. Mary'sto the same friend, whom I had consulted about retiring from it in1840. But I did more now; I told him my great unsettlement of mind onthe question of the Churches. I will insert portions of two of myletters:--

"May 4, 1843. .. . At present I fear, as far as I can analyze my ownconvictions, I consider the Roman Catholic Communion to be the Churchof the Apostles, and that what grace is among us (which, throughGod's mercy, is not little) is extraordinary, and from theoverflowings of His dispensation. I am very far more sure thatEngland is in schism, than that the Roman additions to the PrimitiveCreed may not be developments, arising out of a keen and vividrealizing of the Divine Depositum of Faith. 

"You will now understand what gives edge to the Bishops' Charges, without any undue sensitiveness on my part. They distress me in twoways:--first, as being in some sense protests and witnesses to myconscience against my own unfaithfulness to the English Church, andnext, as being samples of her teaching, and tokens how very far sheis from even aspiring to Catholicity. 

"Of course my being unfaithful to a trust is my great subject ofdread--as it has long been, as you know. "

When he wrote to make natural objections to my purpose, such as theapprehension that the removal of clerical obligations might have theindirect effect of propelling me towards Rome, I answered:--

"May 18, 1843. .. . My office or charge at St. Mary's is not a mere_state_, but a continual _energy_. People assume and assert certainthings of me in consequence. With what sort of sincerity can I obeythe Bishop? how am I to act in the frequent cases, in which one wayor another the Church of Rome comes into consideration? I have to theutmost of my power tried to keep persons from Rome, and with somesuccess; but even a year and a half since, my arguments, though moreefficacious with the persons I aimed at than any others could be, were of a nature to infuse great suspicion of me into the minds oflookers-on. 

"By retaining St. Mary's, I am an offence and a stumbling-block. Persons are keen-sighted enough to make out what I think on certainpoints, and then they infer that such opinions are compatible withholding situations of trust in our Church. A number of younger mentake the validity of their interpretation of the Articles, etc. , fromme on _faith_. Is not my present position a cruelty, as well as atreachery towards the Church?

"I do not see how I can either preach or publish again, while I holdSt. Mary's;--but consider again the following difficulty in such aresolution, which I must state at some length. 

"Last Long Vacation the idea suggested itself to me of publishing theLives of the English Saints; and I had a conversation with [apublisher] upon it. I thought it would be useful, as employing theminds of men who were in danger of running wild, bringing them fromdoctrine to history, and from speculation to fact;--again, as givingthem an interest in the English soil, and the English Church, andkeeping them from seeking sympathy in Rome, as she is; and further, as seeking to promote the spread of right views. 

"But, within the last month, it has come upon me, that, if the schemegoes on, it will be a practical carrying out of No. 90; from thecharacter of the usages and opinions of ante-reformation times. 

"It is easy to say, 'Why _will_ you do _any_ thing? why won't youkeep quiet? what business had you to think of any such plan at all?'But I cannot leave a number of poor fellows in the lurch. I am boundto do my best for a great number of people both in Oxford andelsewhere. If _I_ did not act, others would find means to do so. 

"Well, the plan has been taken up with great eagerness and interest. Many men are setting to work. I set down the names of men, most ofthem engaged, the rest half engaged and probable, some actuallywriting. " About thirty names follow, some of them at that time of theschool of Dr. Arnold, others of Dr. Pusey's, some my personal friendsand of my own standing, others whom I hardly knew, while of coursethe majority were of the party of the new Movement. I continue:--

"The plan has gone so far, that it would create surprise and talk, were it now suddenly given over. Yet how is it compatible with myholding St. Mary's, being what I am?"

Such was the object and the origin of the projected series of theEnglish Saints; and, as the publication was connected, as has beenseen, with my resignation of St. Mary's, I may be allowed to concludewhat I have to say on the subject here, though it will read like adigression. As soon then as the first of the series got into print, the whole project broke down. I had already anticipated that someportions of the series would be written in a style inconsistent withthe professions of a beneficed clergyman, and therefore I had givenup my living; but men of great weight went further, when they saw theLife of St. Stephen Harding, and decided that it was of such acharacter as to be inconsistent even with its being given to theworld by an Anglican publisher: and so the scheme was given up atonce. After the two first parts, I retired from the editorship, andthose Lives only were published in addition, which were then alreadyfinished, or in advanced preparation. The following passages fromwhat I or others wrote at the time will illustrate what I have beensaying:--

In November, 1844, I wrote thus to one of the authors of them: "I amnot Editor, I have no direct control over the Series. It is T. 'swork; he may admit what he pleases; and exclude what he pleases. Iwas to have been Editor. I did edit the two first numbers. I wasresponsible for them, in the way in which an Editor is responsible. Had I continued Editor, I should have exercised a control over all. Ilaid down in the Preface that doctrinal subjects were, if possible, to be excluded. But, even then, I also set down that no writer was tobe held answerable for any of the Lives but his own. When I gave upthe Editorship, I had various engagements with friends for separateLives remaining on my hands. I should have liked to have broken fromthem all, but there were some from which I could not break, and I letthem take their course. Some have come to nothing; others like yourshave gone on. I have seen such, either in MS. Or Proof. As time goeson, I shall have less and less to do with the Series. I think theengagement between you and me should come to an end. I have anyhowabundant responsibility on me, and too much. I shall write to T. Thatif he wants the advantage of your assistance, he must write to youdirect. "

In accordance with this letter, I had already advertised in January1844, ten months before it, that "other Lives, " after St. StephenHarding, "will be published by their respective authors on their ownresponsibility. " This notice is repeated in February, in theadvertisement to the second volume entitled "The Family of St. Richard, " though to this volume also, for some reason, I also put myinitials. In the Life of St. Augustine, the author, a man of nearlymy own age, says in like manner, "No one but himself is responsiblefor the way in which these materials have been used. " I have in MS. Another advertisement to the same effect, but cannot tell whether itwas ever put into print. 

I will add, since the authors have been considered hot-headed boys, whom I was in charge of and whom I suffered do intemperate things, that, while the writer of St. Augustine was of the mature age which Ihave stated, most of the others were on one side or other of thirty. Three were under twenty-five. Moreover, of these writers some becameCatholics, some remained Anglicans, and others have professed whatare called free or liberal opinions. 

The immediate cause of the resignation of my living is stated in thefollowing letter, which I wrote to my Bishop:--

"August 29, 1843. It is with much concern that I inform yourLordship, that Mr. A. B. , who has been for the last year an inmate ofmy house here, has just conformed to the Church of Rome. As I haveever been desirous, not only of faithfully discharging the trust, which is involved in holding a living in your Lordship's diocese, butof approving myself to your Lordship, I will for your informationstate one or two circumstances connected with this unfortunateevent. .. . I received him on condition of his promising me, which hedistinctly did, that he would remain quietly in our Church for threeyears. A year has passed since that time, and, though I saw nothingin him which promised that he would eventually be contented with hispresent position, yet for the time his mind became as settled as onecould wish, and he frequently expressed his satisfaction at beingunder the promise which I had exacted of him. "

I felt it impossible to remain any longer in the service of theAnglican Church, when such a breach of trust, however little I had todo with it, would be laid at my door. I wrote in a few days to afriend:

"September 7, 1843. I this day ask the Bishop leave to resign St. Mary's. Men whom you little think, or at least whom I little thought, are in almost a hopeless way. Really we may expect anything. I amgoing to publish a Volume of Sermons, including those Four againstmoving. "

I resigned my living on September 18th. I had not the means of doingit legally at Oxford. The late Mr. Goldsmid aided me in resigning itin London. I found no fault with the Liberals; they had beaten me ina fair field. As to the act of the Bishops, I thought, as WalterScott has applied the text, that they had "seethed the kid in hismother's milk. "

I said to a friend:--

 "Victrix causa diis placuit, sed victa Catoni. "

And now I have brought almost to an end, as far as this sketch hasto treat of them, the history both of my opinions, and of the publicacts which they involved. I had only one more advance of mind tomake; and that was, to be _certain_ of what I had hithertoanticipated, concluded, and believed; and this was close upon mysubmission to the Catholic Church. And I had only one more act toperform, and that was the act of submission itself. But two years yetintervened before the date of these final events; during which I wasin lay communion in the Church of England, attending its services asusual, and abstaining altogether from intercourse with Catholics, from their places of worship, and from those religious rites andusages, such as the Invocation of Saints, which are characteristicsof their creed. I did all this on principle; for I never couldunderstand how a man could be of two religions at once. 

What then I now have to add is of a private nature, being mypreparation for the great event, for which I was waiting, in theinterval between the autumns of 1843 and 1845. 

And I shall almost confine what I have to say to this one point, thedifficulty I was in as to the best mode of revealing the state of mymind to my friends and others, and how I managed to do it. 

Up to January, 1842, I had not disclosed my state of unsettlement tomore than three persons, as has been mentioned above, and is repeatedin the letters which I am now about to give to the reader. To two ofthem, intimate and familiar companions, in the Autumn of 1839: to thethird, an old friend too, when, I suppose, I was in great distressof mind upon the affair of the Jerusalem Bishopric. In May, 1843, I mentioned it to the friend, by whose advice I wished, as far aspossible, to be guided. To mention it on set purpose to any one, unless indeed I was asking advice, I should have felt to be a crime. If there is anything that was and is abhorrent to me, it is thescattering doubts, and unsettling consciences without necessity. Astrong presentiment that my existing opinions would ultimately giveway, and that the grounds of them were unsound, was not a sufficientwarrant for disclosing the state of my mind. I had no guarantee yet, that that presentiment would be realised. Supposing I were crossingice, which came right in my way, which I had good reasons forconsidering sound, and which I saw numbers before me crossing insafety, and supposing a stranger from the bank, in a voice ofauthority, and in an earnest tone, warned me that it was dangerous, and then was silent, I think I should be startled, and should lookabout me anxiously, but I also should go on, till I had bettergrounds for doubt; and such was my state, I believe, till the end of1842. Then again, when my dissatisfaction became greater, it was hardat first to determine the point of time, when it was too strong tosuppress with propriety. Certitude of course is a point, but doubtis a progress; I was not near certitude yet. Certitude is a reflexaction; it is to know that one knows. I believe I had not that, tillclose upon my reception into the Catholic Church. Again, a practical, effective doubt is a point too, but who can easily ascertain it forhimself? Who can determine when it is, that the scales in the balanceof opinion begin to turn, and what was a greater probability inbehalf of a belief becomes a positive doubt against it?

In considering this question in its bearing upon my conduct in 1843, my own simple answer to my great difficulty was, _Do_ what yourpresent state of opinion requires, and let that _doing_ tell: speakby _acts_. This I did my first _act_ of the year was in February, 1843. After three months' deliberation I published my retractation ofthe violent charges which I had made against Rome: I could not bewrong in doing so much as this; but I did no more: I did not retractmy Anglican teaching. My second _act_ was in September; after muchsorrowful lingering and hesitation, I resigned my Living. I triedindeed to keep Littlemore for myself, even though it was still toremain an integral part of St. Mary's. I had made it a parish, and Iloved it; but I did not succeed in my attempt. I could indeed bear tobecome the curate at will of another, but I hoped still that I mighthave been my own master there. I had hoped an exception might havebeen made in my favour, under the circumstances; but I did not gainmy request. Indeed, I was asking what was impracticable, and it iswell for me that it was so. 

These were my two acts of the year, and I said, "I cannot be wrong inmaking them; let that follow which must follow in the thoughts ofthe world about me, when they see what I do. " They fully answered mypurpose. What I felt as a simple duty to do, did create a generalsuspicion about me, without such responsibility as would be involvedin my taking the initiative in creating it. Then, when friends wroteme on the subject, either I did not deny or I confessed it, accordingto the character and need of their letters. Sometimes, in the case ofintimate friends, whom I seemed to leave in ignorance of what othersknew about me, I invited the question. 

And here comes in another point for explanation. While I was fightingfor the Anglican Church in Oxford, then indeed I was very glad tomake converts, and, though I never broke away from that rule of mymind (as I may call it) of which I have already spoken, of findingdisciples rather than seeking them, yet, that I made advances toothers in a special way, I have no doubt; this came to an end, however, as soon as I fell into misgivings as to the true ground tobe taken in the controversy. Then, when I gave up my place in theMovement, I ceased from any such proceeding: and my utmost endeavourwas to tranquillise such persons, especially those who belonged tothe new school, as were unsettled in their religious views, and, as Ijudged, hasty in their conclusions. This went on till 1843; but, atthat date, as soon as I turned my face Romeward, I gave up altogetherand in any shape, as far as ever was possible, the thought of actingupon others. Then I myself was simply my own concern. How could I inany sense direct others, who had to be guided in so momentous amatter myself? How could I be considered in a position, even to say aword to them one way or the other? How could I presume to unsettlethem, as I was unsettled, when I had no means of bringing them out ofsuch unsettlement? And, if they were unsettled already, how could Ipoint to them a place of refuge, which I was not sure that I shouldchoose for myself? My only line, my only duty, was to keep simplyto my own case. I recollected Pascal's words, "Je mourrai seul. " Ideliberately put out of my thoughts all other works and claims, andsaid nothing to any one, unless I was obliged. 

But this brought upon me a great trouble. In the newspapers therewere continual reports about my intentions; I did not answer them;presently strangers or friends wrote, begging to be allowed to answerthem; and, if I still kept to my resolution and said nothing, then Iwas thought to be mysterious, and a prejudice was excited against me. But, what was far worse, there were a number of tender, eager hearts, of whom I knew nothing at all, who were watching me, wishing to thinkas I thought, and to do as I did, if they could but find it out; whoin consequence were distressed, that, in so solemn a matter, theycould not see what was coming, and who heard reports about me thisway or that, on a first day and on a second; and felt the wearinessof waiting, and the sickness of delayed hope, and did not understandthat I was as perplexed as themselves, and, being of more sensitivecomplexion of mind than myself, were made ill by the suspense. And they too of course for the time thought me mysterious andinexplicable. I ask their pardon as far as I was really unkindto them. There was a gifted and deeply earnest lady, who in aparabolical account of that time, has described both my conduct asshe felt it, and that of such as herself. In a singularly graphic, amusing vision of pilgrims, who were making their way across a bleakcommon in great discomfort, and who were ever warned against, yetcontinually nearing, "the king's highway" on the right, she says, "All my fears and disquiets were speedily renewed by seeing the mostdaring of our leaders (the same who had first forced his way throughthe palisade, and in whose courage and sagacity we all put implicittrust) suddenly stop short, and declare that he would go on nofurther. He did not, however, take the leap at once, but quietly satdown on the top of the fence with his feet hanging towards the road, as if he meant to take his time about it, and let himself downeasily. " I do not wonder at all that I thus seemed so unkind to alady, who at that time had never seen me. We were both in trial inour different ways. I am far from denying that I was acting selfishlyboth towards them and towards others; but it was a religiousselfishness. Certainly to myself my own duty seemed clear. They thatare whole can heal others; but in my case it was, "Physician, healthyself. " My own soul was my first concern, and it seemed anabsurdity to my reason to be converted in partnership. I wished to goto my Lord by myself, and in my own way, or rather His way. I hadneither wish, nor, I may say, thought of taking a number with me. Butnothing of this could be known to others. 

The following three letters are written to a friend, who had everyclaim upon me to be frank with him:--it will be seen that I disclosethe real state of mind to him, in proportion as he presses me. 

1. "October 14, 1843. I would tell you in a few words why I haveresigned St. Mary's, as you seem to wish, were it possible to do so. But it is most difficult to bring out in brief, or even _in extenso_, any just view of my feelings and reasons. 

"The nearest approach I can give to a general account of them is tosay, that it has been caused by the general repudiation of the view, contained in No. 90, on the part of the Church. I could not standagainst such an unanimous expression of opinion from the Bishops, supported, as it has been, by the concurrence, or at least silence, of all classes in the Church, lay and clerical. If there ever was acase, in which an individual teacher has been put aside and virtuallyput away by a community, mine is one. No decency has been observed inthe attacks upon me from authority; no protests have been offeredagainst them. It is felt, --I am far from denying, justly felt, --thatI am a foreign material, and cannot assimilate with the Church ofEngland. 

"Even my own Bishop has said that my mode of interpreting theArticles makes them mean _anything or nothing_. When I heard thisdelivered, I did not believe my ears. I denied to others that it wassaid. .. . Out came the charge, and the words could not be mistaken. This astonished me the more, because I published that Letter to him(how unwillingly you know) on the understanding that _I_ was todeliver his judgment on No. 90 _instead_ of him. A year elapses, anda second and heavier judgment came forth. I did not bargain forthis, --nor did he, but the tide was too strong for him. 

"I fear that I must confess, that, in proportion as I think theEnglish Church is showing herself intrinsically and radically alienfrom Catholic principles, so do I feel the difficulties of defendingher claims to be a branch of the Catholic Church. It seems a dream tocall a communion Catholic, when one can neither appeal to any clearstatement of Catholic doctrine in its formularies, nor interpretambiguous formularies by the received and living Catholic sense, whether past or present. Men of Catholic views are too truly but aparty in our Church. I cannot deny that many other independentcircumstances, which it is not worth while entering into, have led meto the same conclusion. 

"I do not say all this to every body, as you may suppose; but I donot like to make a secret of it to you. "

2. "Oct. 25, 1843. You have engaged in a dangerous correspondence; Iam deeply sorry for the pain I shall give you. 

"I must tell you then frankly (but I combat arguments which to me, alas, are shadows), that it is not from disappointment, irritation, or impatience, that I have, whether rightly or wrongly, resigned St. Mary's; but because I think the Church of Rome the Catholic Church, and ours not part of the Catholic Church, because not in communionwith Rome; and because I feel that I could not honestly be a teacherin it any longer. 

"This thought came to me last summer four years. .. . I mentioned it totwo friends in the autumn. .. . It arose in the first instance from theMonophysite and Donatist controversies, the former of which I wasengaged with in the course of theological study to which I had givenmyself. This was at a time when no Bishop, I believe, had declaredagainst us, and when all was progress and hope. I do not think I haveever felt disappointment or impatience, certainly not then; for Inever looked forward to the future, nor do I realise it now. 

"My first effort was to write that article on the Catholicity of theEnglish Church; for two years it quieted me. Since the summer of 1839I have written little or nothing on modern controversy. .. . You knowhow unwillingly I wrote my letter to the Bishop in which I committedmyself again, as the safest course under circumstances. The article Ispeak of quieted me till the end of 1841, over the affair of No. 90, when that wretched Jerusalem Bishopric (no personal matter) revivedall my alarms. They have increased up to this moment. At that time Itold my secret to another person in addition. 

"You see then that the various ecclesiastical andquasi-ecclesiastical acts, which have taken place in the course ofthe last two years and a half, are not the _cause_ of my state ofopinion, but are keen stimulants and weighty confirmations of aconviction forced upon me, while engaged in the _course of duty_, viz. That theological reading to which I had given myself. And thislast-mentioned circumstance is a fact, which has never, I think, comebefore me till now that I write to you. 

"It is three years since, on account of my state of opinion, I urgedthe Provost in vain to let St. Mary's be separated from Littlemore;thinking I might with a safe conscience serve the latter, though Icould not comfortably continue in so public a place as a University. This was before No. 90. 

"Finally, I have acted under advice, and that, not of my ownchoosing, but what came to me in the way of duty, nor the advice ofthose only who agree with me, but of near friends who differ from me. 

"I have nothing to reproach myself with, as far as I see, in thematter of impatience; _i. E. _ practically or in conduct. And I trustthat He, who has kept me in the slow course of change hitherto, willkeep me still from hasty acts or resolves with a doubtful conscience. 

"This I am sure of, that such interposition as yours, kind as it is, only does what _you_ would consider harm. It makes me realise my ownviews to myself; it makes me see their consistency; it assures me ofmy own deliberateness; it suggests to me the traces of a ProvidentialHand; it takes away the pain of disclosures; it relieves me of aheavy secret. 

"You may make what use of my letters you think right. "

My correspondent wrote to me once more, and I replied thus: "October31, 1843. Your letter has made my heart ache more, and caused me moreand deeper sighs than any I have had a long while, though I assureyou there is much on all sides of me to cause sighing and heartache. On all sides I am quite haunted by the one dreadful whisper repeatedfrom so many quarters, and causing the keenest distress to friends. You know but a part of my present trial, in knowing that I amunsettled myself. 

"Since the beginning of this year I have been obliged to tell thestate of my mind to some others; but never, I think, without being ina way obliged, as from friends writing to me as you did, or guessinghow matters stood. No one in Oxford knows it or here" [Littlemore], "but one friend whom I felt I could not help telling the other day. But, I suppose, very many suspect it. "

On receiving these letters, my correspondent, if I recollect rightly, at once communicated the matter of them to Dr. Pusey, and this willenable me to state as nearly as I can the way in which my changedstate of opinion was made known to him. 

I had from the first a great difficulty in making Dr. Puseyunderstand such differences of opinion as existed between himselfand me. When there was a proposal about the end of 1838 for asubscription for a Cranmer Memorial, he wished us both to subscribetogether to it. I could not, of course, and wished him to subscribeby himself. That he would not do; he could not bear the thought ofour appearing to the world in separate positions, in a matter ofimportance. And, as time went on, he would not take any hints, whichI gave him, on the subject of my growing inclination to Rome. When Ifound him so determined, I often had not the heart to go on. And thenI knew, that, from affection to me, he so often took up and threwhimself into what I said, that I felt the great responsibility Ishould incur, if I put things before him just as I might view them. And, not knowing him so well as I did afterwards, I feared lest Ishould unsettle him. And moreover, I recollected well, how prostratedhe had been with illness in 1832, and I used always to think that thestart of the Movement had given him a fresh life. I fancied that hisphysical energies even depended on the presence of a vigorous hopeand bright prospects for his imagination to feed upon; so much so, that when he was so unworthily treated by the authorities of theplace in 1843, I recollect writing to the late Mr. Dodsworth to statemy anxiety, lest, if his mind became dejected in consequence, hishealth would suffer seriously also. These were difficulties in myway; and then again, another difficulty was, that, as we were nottogether under the same roof, we only saw each other at set times;others indeed, who were coming in or out of my rooms freely, and asthere might be need at the moment, knew all my thoughts easily; butfor him to know them well, formal efforts were necessary. A commonfriend of ours broke it all to him in 1841, as far as matters hadgone at that time, and showed him clearly the logical conclusionswhich must lie in propositions to which I had committed myself; butsomehow or other in a little while, his mind fell back into itsformer happy state, and he could not bring himself to believe thathe and I should not go on pleasantly together to the end. But thataffectionate dream needs must have been broken at last; and two yearsafterwards, that friend to whom I wrote the letters which I have justnow inserted, set himself, as I have said, to break it. Upon that, Itoo begged Dr. Pusey to tell in private to any one he would, that Ithought in the event I should leave the Church of England. However, he would not do so; and at the end of 1844 had almost relapsed intohis former thoughts about me, if I may judge from a letter of hiswhich I have found. Nay, at the Commemoration of 1845, a few monthsbefore I left the Anglican Church, I think he said about me to afriend, "I trust after all we shall keep him. "

In that autumn of 1843, at the time that I spoke to Dr. Pusey, Iasked another friend also to communicate to others in confidence theprospect which lay before me. 

To another friend I gave the opportunity of knowing it, if he would, in the following postscript to a letter:--

"While I write, I will add a word about myself. You may come near aperson or two who, owing to circumstances, know more exactly my stateof feeling than you do, though they would not tell you. Now I do notlike that you should not be aware of this, though I see no _reason_why you should know what they happen to know. Your wishing itotherwise would _be_ a reason. "

I had a dear and old friend, near his death; I never told him mystate of mind. Why should I unsettle that sweet calm tranquillity, when I had nothing to offer him instead? I could not say, "Go toRome;" else I should have shown him the way. Yet I offered myself forhis examination. One day he led the way to my speaking out; but, rightly or wrongly, I could not respond. My reason was, "I have nocertainty on the matter myself. To say 'I think' is to tease and todistress, not to persuade. "

I wrote to him on Michaelmas Day, 1843: "As you may suppose, I havenothing to write to you about, pleasant. I _could_ tell you some verypainful things; but it is best not to anticipate trouble, which afterall can but happen, and, for what one knows, may be averted. You arealways so kind, that sometimes, when I part with you, I am nearlymoved to tears, and it would be a relief to be so, at your kindnessand at my hardness. I think no one ever had such kind friends as Ihave. "

The next year, January 22, I wrote to him: "Pusey has quite enough onhim, and generously takes on himself more than enough, for me to addburdens when I am not obliged; particularly too, when I am veryconscious, that there _are_ burdens, which I am or shall be obligedto lay upon him some time or other, whether I will or no. "

And on February 21: "Half-past ten. I am just up, having a bad cold;the like has not happened to me (except twice in January) in mymemory. You may think you have been in my thoughts, long before myrising. Of course you are so continually, as you well know. I couldnot come to see you; I am not worthy of friends. With my opinions, to the full of which I dare not confess, I feel like a guilty personwith others, though I trust I am not so. People kindly think that Ihave much to bear externally, disappointment, slander, etc. No, Ihave nothing to bear, but the anxiety which I feel for my friends'anxiety for me, and their perplexity. This [letter] is a betterAsh-Wednesday than birthday present;" [his birthday was the same dayas mine; it was Ash-Wednesday that year]; "but I cannot help writingabout what is uppermost. And now all kindest and best wishes to you, my oldest friend, whom I must not speak more about, and withreference to myself, lest you should be angry. " It was not in hisnature to have doubts: he used to look at me with anxiety, and wonderwhat had come over me. 

On Easter Monday: "All that is good and gracious descend upon you andyours from the influences of this Blessed Season; and it will be so(so be it!), for what is the life of you all, as day passes afterday, but a simple endeavour to serve Him, from whom all blessingcomes? Though we are separated in place, yet this we have in common, that you are living a calm and cheerful time, and I am enjoying thethought of you. It is your blessing to have a clear heaven, and peacearound, according to the blessing pronounced on Benjamin. So it is, and so may it ever be. "

He was in simple good faith. He died in September that year. I hadexpected that his last illness would have brought light to my mind, as to what I ought to do. It brought none. I made a note, which runsthus: "I sobbed bitterly over his coffin, to think that he left mestill dark as to what the way of truth was, and what I ought to do inorder to please God and fulfil His will. " I think I wrote to CharlesMarriott to say, that at that moment, with the thought of my friendbefore me, my strong view in favour of Rome remained just what itwas. On the other hand, my firm belief that grace was to be found inthe Anglican Church remained too. [5] I wrote to a friend upon hisdeath:--

"Sept. 16, 1844. I am full of wrong and miserable feelings, which itis useless to detail, so grudging and sullen, when I should bethankful. Of course, when one sees so blessed an end, and that, thetermination of so blameless a life, of one who really fed on ourordinances and got strength from them, and see the same continued ina whole family, the little children finding quite a solace of theirpain in the Daily Prayer, it is impossible not to feel more at easein our Church, as at least a sort of Zoar, a place of refuge andtemporary rest, because of the steepness of the way. Only, may we bekept from unlawful security, lest we have Moab and Ammon for ourprogeny, the enemies of Israel. "

I could not continue in this state, either in the light of duty or ofreason. My difficulty was this: I had been deceived greatly once; howcould I be sure that I was not deceived a second time? I then thoughtmyself right; how was I to be certain that I was right now? How manyyears had I thought myself sure of what I now rejected? how could Iever again have confidence in myself? As in 1840 I listened to therising doubt in favour of Rome, now I listened to the waning doubtin favour of the English Church. To be certain is to know that oneknows; what test had I, that I should not change again, after that Ihad become a Catholic? I had still apprehension of this, though Ithought a time would come, when it would depart. However, some limitought to be put to these vague misgivings; I must do my best and thenleave it to a higher power to prosper it. So, I determined to writean essay on Doctrinal Development; and then, if, at the end of it, myconvictions in favour of the Roman Church were not weaker, to make upmy mind to seek admission into her fold. I acted upon this resolutionin the beginning of 1845, and worked at my Essay steadily into theautumn. 

I told my resolution to various friends at the beginning of the year;indeed, it was at that time known generally. I wrote to a friendthus:--

"My intention is, if nothing comes upon me, which I cannot foresee, to remain quietly _in statu quo_ for a considerable time, trustingthat my friends will kindly remember me and my trial in theirprayers. And I should give up my fellowship some time before anythingfurther took place. "

One very dear friend, now no more, Charles Marriott, sent me a letterat the beginning of the next year, from which, from love of him, Iquote some sentences:--

"January 15, 1845. You know me well enough to be aware, that I neversee through anything at first. Your letter to B. Casts a gloom overthe future, which you can understand, if you have understood me, as Ibelieve you have. But I may speak out at once, of what I see andfeel at once, and doubt not that I shall ever feel: that your wholeconduct towards the Church of England and towards us, who havestriven and are still striving to seek after God for ourselves, and to revive true religion among others, under her authority andguidance, has been generous and considerate, and, were that wordappropriate, dutiful, to a degree that I could scarcely haveconceived possible, more unsparing of self than I should have thoughtnature could sustain. I have felt with pain every link that you havesevered, and I have asked no questions, because I felt that you oughtto measure the disclosure of your thoughts according to the occasion, and the capacity of those to whom you spoke. I write in haste, inthe midst of engagements engrossing in themselves, but partly madetasteless, partly embittered by what I have heard; but I am willingto trust even you, whom I love best on earth, in God's Hand, in theearnest prayer that you may be so employed as is best for the HolyCatholic Church. "

There was a lady, who was very anxious on the subject, and I wrote toher the following letters:--

1. "October, 1844. What can I say more to your purpose? If you willask me any specific questions, I will answer them, as far as I amable. "

2. "November 7, 1844. I am still where I was; I am not moving. Twothings, however, seem plain, that every one is prepared for such anevent, next, that every one expects it of me. Few indeed, who do notthink it suitable, fewer still, who do not think it likely. However, I do not think it either suitable or likely. I have very littlereason to doubt about the issue of things, but the when and the howare known to Him, from whom, I trust, both the course of things andthe issue come. The expression of opinion, and the latent andhabitual feeling about me, which is on every side and among allparties, has great force. I insist upon it, because I have a greatdread of going by my own feelings, lest they should mislead me. Byone's sense of duty one must go; but external facts support one indoing so. "

3. "January 8, 1845. My full belief is, in accordance with yourletter, that, if there is a move in our Church, very few personsindeed will be partners to it. I doubt whether one or two at the mostamong residents at Oxford. And I don't know whether I can wish it. The state of the Roman Catholics is at present so unsatisfactory. This I am sure of, that nothing but a simple, direct call of duty isa warrant for any one leaving our Church; no preference of anotherChurch, no delight in its services, no hope of greater religiousadvancement in it, no indignation, no disgust, at the persons andthings, among which we may find ourselves in the Church of England. The simple question is, Can _I_ (it is personal, not whether another, but can _I_) be saved in the English Church? am _I_ in safety, were Ito die tonight? Is it a mortal sin in _me_, not joining anothercommunion? P. S. I hardly see my way to concur in attendance, thoughoccasional, in the Roman Catholic chapel, unless a man has made uphis mind pretty well to join it eventually. Invocations are not_required_ in the Church of Rome; somehow, I do not like using themexcept under the sanction of the Church, and this makes me unwillingto admit them in members of our Church. "

4. "March 30. Now I will tell you more than any one knows except twofriends. My own convictions are as strong, as I suppose they canbecome: only it is so difficult to know whether it is a call of_reason_ or of conscience. I cannot make out, if I am impelled bywhat seems clear, or by a sense of _duty_. You can understand howpainful this doubt is; so I have waited, hoping for light, and usingthe words of the Psalmist, 'Show some token upon me. ' But I suppose Ihave no right to wait for ever for this. Then I am waiting, becausefriends are most considerately bearing me in mind, and askingguidance for me; and, I trust, I should attend to any new feelingswhich came upon me, should that be the effect of their kindness. Andthen this waiting subserves the purpose of preparing men's minds. I dread shocking, unsettling people. Anyhow, I can't avoid givingincalculable pain. So, if I had my will, I should like to wait tillthe summer of 1846, which would be a full seven years from the timethat my convictions first began to fall on me. But I don't think Ishall last so long. 

"My present intention is to give up my Fellowship in October, and topublish some work or treatise between that and Christmas. I wishpeople to know _why_ I am acting, as well as _what_ I am doing; ittakes off that vague and distressing surprise, 'What _can_ have madehim?'"

5. "June 1. What you tell me of yourself makes it plain that it isyour duty to remain quietly and patiently, till you see more clearlywhere you are; else you are leaping in the dark. "

In the early part of this year, if not before, there was an ideaafloat that my retirement from the Anglican Church was owing to thefeeling that I had so been thrust aside, without any one's taking mypart. Various measures were, I believe, talked of in consequence ofthis surmise. Coincidently with it was an exceedingly kind articleabout me in a quarterly, in its April number. The writer praised mein feeling and beautiful language far above my deserts. In the courseof his remarks, he said, speaking of me as Vicar of St. Mary's: "Hehad the future race of clergy hearing him. Did he value and feeltender about, and cling to his position? . .. Not at all. .. . Nosacrifice to him perhaps, he did not care about such things. "

This was the occasion of my writing to a very intimate friend thefollowing letter:--

"April 3, 1845. .. . Accept this apology, my dear C. , and forgive me. As I say so, tears come into my eyes--that arises from the accidentof this time, when I am giving up so much I love. Just now I havebeen overset by A. B. 's article in the C. D. ; yet really, my dear C. , I have never for an instant had even the temptation of repenting myleaving Oxford. The feeling of repentance has not even come into mymind. How could it? How could I remain at St. Mary's a hypocrite? howcould I be answerable for souls (and life so uncertain), with theconvictions, or at least persuasions, which I had upon me? It isindeed a responsibility to act as I am doing; and I feel His handheavy on me without intermission, who is all Wisdom and Love, so thatmy heart and mind are tired out, just as the limbs might be froma load on one's back. That sort of dull aching pain is mine; butmy responsibility really is nothing to what it would be, to beanswerable for souls, for confiding loving souls, in the EnglishChurch, with my convictions. My love to Marriott, and save me thepain of sending him a line. "

In July a bishop thought it worth while to give out to the world that"the adherents of Mr. Newman are few in number. A short time will nowprobably suffice to prove this fact. It is well known that he ispreparing for secession; and, when that event takes place, it will beseen how few will go with him. "

All this time I was hard at my essay on Doctrinal Development. As Iadvanced, my view so cleared that instead of speaking any more of"the Roman Catholics, " I boldly called them Catholics. Before I gotto the end, I resolved to be received, and the book remains in thestate in which it was then, unfinished. 

On October 8th I wrote to a number of friends the following letter:--

"Littlemore, October 8, 1845. I am this night expecting FatherDominic, the Passionist, who, from his youth, has been led to havedistinct and direct thoughts, first of the countries of the North, then of England. After thirty years' (almost) waiting, he was withouthis own act sent here. But he has had little to do with conversions. I saw him here for a few minutes on St. John Baptist's day last year. He does not know of my intention; but I mean to ask of him admissioninto the one Fold of Christ. .. . 

"I have so many letters to write, that this must do for all whochoose to ask about me. With my best love to dear Charles Marriott, who is over your head, etc. , etc. 

"P. S. This will not go till all is over. Of course it requires noanswer. "

For a while after my reception, I proposed to betake myself to somesecular calling. I wrote thus in answer to a very gracious letter ofcongratulation:--

"Nov. 25, 1845. I hope you will have anticipated, before I expressit, the great gratification which I received from your Eminence'sletter. That gratification, however, was tempered by theapprehension, that kind and anxious well-wishers at a distance attachmore importance to my step than really belongs to it. To me indeedpersonally it is of course an inestimable gain; but persons andthings look great at a distance, which are not so when seen close;and, did your Eminence know me, you would see that I was one, aboutwhom there has been far more talk for good and bad than he deserves, and about whose movements far more expectation has been raised thanthe event will justify. 

"As I never, I do trust, aimed at anything else than obedience to myown sense of right, and have been magnified into the leader of aparty without my wishing it or acting as such, so now, much as I maywish to the contrary, and earnestly as I may labour (as is my duty)to minister in a humble way to the Catholic Church, yet my powerswill, I fear, disappoint the expectations of both my own friends, andof those who pray for the peace of Jerusalem. 

"If I might ask of your Eminence a favour, it is that you wouldkindly moderate those anticipations. Would it were in my power to do, what I do not aspire to do! At present certainly I cannot lookforward to the future, and, though it would be a good work if I couldpersuade others to do as I have done, yet it seems as if I had quiteenough to do in thinking of myself. "

Soon, Dr. Wiseman, in whose vicariate Oxford lay, called me toOscott; and I went there with others; afterwards he sent me to Rome, and finally placed me in Birmingham. 

I wrote to a friend:--

"January 20, 1846. You may think how lonely I am. 'Obliviscerepopulum tuum et domum patris tui, ' has been in my ears for the lasttwelve hours. I realise more that we are leaving Littlemore, and itis like going on the open sea. "

I left Oxford for good on Monday, February 23, 1846. On the Saturdayand Sunday before, I was in my house at Littlemore simply by myself, as I had been for the first day or two when I had originally takenpossession of it. I slept on Sunday night at my dear friend's, Mr. Johnson's, at the Observatory. Various friends came to see the lastof me; Mr. Copeland, Mr. Church, Mr. Buckle, Mr. Pattison, and Mr. Lewis. Dr. Pusey too came up to take leave of me; and I called on Dr. Ogle, one of my very oldest friends, for he was my private tutor whenI was an undergraduate. In him I took leave of my first college, Trinity, which was so dear to me, and which held on its foundation somany who have been kind to me both when I was a boy, and all throughmy Oxford life. Trinity had never been unkind to me. There used to bemuch snapdragon growing on the walls opposite my freshman's roomsthere, and I had for years taken it as the emblem of my own perpetualresidence even unto death in my University. 

On the morning of the 23rd I left the observatory. I have never seenOxford since, excepting its spires, as they are seen from therailway. 

Footnotes

[3] As I am not writing controversially, I will only here remark uponthis argument, that there is a great difference between a command, which implies physical conditions, and one which is moral. To go toJerusalem was a matter of the body, not of the soul. 

[4] I cannot prove this at this distance of time; but I do not think itwrong to introduce here the passage containing it, as I am imputingto the Bishop nothing which the world would think disgraceful, but, on the contrary, what a large religious body would approve. 

[5] On this subject, _vid_. My third lecture on "AnglicanDifficulties. "

Part VII

General answer to Mr. Kingsley

From the time that I became a Catholic, of course I have no furtherhistory of my religious opinions to narrate. In saying this, I do notmean to say that my mind has been idle, or that I have given upthinking on theological subjects; but that I have had no changes torecord, and have had no anxiety of heart whatever. I have been inperfect peace and contentment. I never have had one doubt. I wasnot conscious to myself, on my conversion, of any difference ofthought or of temper from what I had before. I was not conscious offirmer faith in the fundamental truths of revelation, or of moreself-command; I had not more fervour; but it was like coming intoport after a rough sea; and my happiness on that score remains tothis day without interruption. 

Nor had I any trouble about receiving those additional articles, which are not found in the Anglican Creed. Some of them I believedalready, but not any one of them was a trial to me. I made aprofession of them upon my reception with the greatest ease, and Ihave the same ease in believing them now. I am far of course fromdenying that every article of the Christian Creed, whether as held byCatholics or by Protestants, is beset with intellectual difficulties;and it is simple fact, that, for myself, I cannot answer thosedifficulties. Many persons are very sensitive of the difficulties ofreligion; I am as sensitive as any one; but I have never been able tosee a connection between apprehending those difficulties, howeverkeenly, and multiplying them to any extent, and doubting thedoctrines to which they are attached. Ten thousand difficulties donot make one doubt, as I understand the subject; difficulty anddoubt are incommensurate. There of course may be difficulties inthe evidence; but I am speaking of difficulties intrinsic to thedoctrines, or to their compatibility with each other. A man may beannoyed that he cannot work out a mathematical problem, of which theanswer is or is not given to him, without doubting that it admits ofan answer, or that a particular answer is the true one. Of all pointsof faith, the being of a God is, to my own apprehension, encompassedwith most difficulty, and borne in upon our minds with most power. 

People say that the doctrine of Transubstantiation is difficult tobelieve; I did not believe the doctrine till I was a Catholic. I hadno difficulty in believing it as soon as I believed that the CatholicRoman Church was the oracle of God, and that she had declared thisdoctrine to be part of the original revelation. It is difficult, impossible to imagine, I grant--but how is it difficult to believe?Yet Macaulay thought it so difficult to believe, that he had need ofa believer in it of talents as eminent as Sir Thomas More, before hecould bring himself to conceive that the Catholics of an enlightenedage could resist "the overwhelming force of the argument against it. ""Sir Thomas More, " he says, "is one of the choice specimens of wisdomand virtue; and the doctrine of transubstantiation is a kind of proofcharge. A faith which stands that test, will stand any test. " But formyself, I cannot indeed prove it, I cannot tell _how_ it is; but Isay, "Why should it not be? What's to hinder it? What do I know ofsubstance or matter? just as much as the greatest philosophers, andthat is nothing at all;"--so much is this the case, that there is arising school of philosophy now, which considers phenomena toconstitute the whole of our knowledge in physics. The Catholicdoctrine leaves phenomena alone. It does not say that the phenomenago; on the contrary, it says that they remain: nor does it say thatthe same phenomena are in several places at once. It deals with whatno one on earth knows anything about, the material substancesthemselves. And, in like manner, of that majestic article of theAnglican as well as of the Catholic Creed--the doctrine of theTrinity in Unity. What do I know of the essence of the Divine Being?I know that my abstract idea of three is simply incompatible with myidea of one; but when I come to the question of concrete fact, I haveno means of proving that there is not a sense in which one and threecan equally be predicated of the Incommunicable God. 

But I am going to take upon myself the responsibility of more thanthe mere creed of the Church; as the parties accusing me aredetermined I shall do. They say, that now, in that I am a Catholic, though I may not have offences of my own against honesty to answerfor, yet, at least, I am answerable for the offences of others, of myco-religionists, of my brother priests, of the Church herself. I amquite willing to accept the responsibility; and, as I have been able, as I trust, by means of a few words, to dissipate, in the minds ofall those who do not begin with disbelieving me, the suspicion withwhich so many Protestants start, in forming their judgment ofCatholics, viz. That our creed is actually set up in inevitablesuperstition and hypocrisy, as the original sin of Catholicism; sonow I will go on, as before, identifying myself with the Church andvindicating it--not of course denying the enormous mass of sin andignorance which exists of necessity in that world-wide multiformcommunion--but going to the proof of this one point, that its systemis in no sense dishonest, and that therefore the upholders andteachers of that system, as such, have a claim to be acquitted intheir own persons of that odious imputation. 

Starting then with the being of a God (which, as I have said, is ascertain to me as the certainty of my own existence, though when I tryto put the grounds of that certainty into logical shape I find adifficulty in doing so in mood and figure to my satisfaction), I lookout of myself into the world of men, and there I see a sight whichfills me with unspeakable distress. The world seems simply to givethe lie to that great truth, of which my whole being is so full; andthe effect upon me is, in consequence, as a matter of necessity, asconfusing as if it denied that I am in existence myself. If I lookedinto a mirror, and did not see my face, I should have the sort offeeling which actually comes upon me, when I look into this livingbusy world, and see no reflexion of its Creator. This is, to me, oneof the great difficulties of this absolute primary truth, to which Ireferred just now. Were it not for this voice, speaking so clearly inmy conscience and my heart, I should be an atheist, or a pantheist, or a polytheist when I looked into the world. I am speaking formyself only; and I am far from denying the real force of thearguments in proof of a God, drawn from the general facts of humansociety, but these do not warm me or enlighten me; they do not takeaway the winter of my desolation, or make the buds unfold and theleaves grow within me, and my moral being rejoice. The sight of theworld is nothing else than the prophet's scroll, full of"lamentations, and mourning, and woe. "

To consider the world in its length and breadth, its various history, the many races of man, their starts, their fortunes, their mutualalienation, their conflicts; and then their ways, habits, governments, forms of worship; their enterprises, their aimlesscourses, their random achievements and acquirements, the impotentconclusion of long-standing facts, the tokens so faint and broken, of a superintending design, the blind evolution of what turn outto be great powers or truths, the progress of things, as if fromunreasoning elements, not towards final causes, the greatness andlittleness of man, his far-reaching aims, his short duration, thecurtain hung over his futurity, the disappointments of life, thedefeat of good, the success of evil, physical pain, mental anguish, the prevalence and intensity of sin, the pervading idolatries, thecorruptions, the dreary hopeless irreligion, that condition of thewhole race, so fearfully yet exactly described in the Apostle'swords, "having no hope and without God in the world, "--all this is avision to dizzy and appal; and inflicts upon the mind the sense of aprofound mystery, which is absolutely beyond human solution. 

What shall be said to this heart-piercing, reason-bewildering fact? Ican only answer, that either there is no Creator, or this livingsociety of men is in a true sense discarded from His presence. Did Isee a boy of good make and mind, with the tokens on him of a refinednature, cast upon the world without provision, unable to say whencehe came, his birthplace or his family connections, I should concludethat there was some mystery connected with his history, and that hewas one, of whom, from one cause or other, his parents were ashamed. Thus only should I be able to account for the contrast between thepromise and condition of his being. And so I argue about theworld;--_if_ there be a God, _since_ there is a God, the human raceis implicated in some terrible aboriginal calamity. It is out ofjoint with the purposes of its Creator. This is a fact, a fact astrue as the fact of its existence; and thus the doctrine of what istheologically called original sin becomes to me almost as certain asthat the world exists, and as the existence of God. 

And now, supposing it were the blessed and loving will of the Creatorto interfere in this anarchical condition of things, what are we tosuppose would be the methods which might be necessarily or naturallyinvolved in His object of mercy? Since the world is in so abnormal astate, surely it would be no surprise to me, if the interpositionwere of necessity equally extraordinary--or what is calledmiraculous. But that subject does not directly come into the scope ofmy present remarks. Miracles as evidence, involve an argument; and ofcourse I am thinking of some means which does not immediately runinto argument. I am rather asking what must be the face-to-faceantagonist, by which to withstand and baffle the fierce energy ofpassion and the all-corroding, all-dissolving scepticism of theintellect in religious inquiries? I have no intention at all to deny, that truth is the real object of our reason, and that, if it does notattain to truth, either the premiss or the process is in fault; but Iam not speaking of right reason, but of reason as it acts in fact andconcretely in fallen man. I know that even the unaided reason, whencorrectly exercised, leads to a belief in God, in the immortality ofthe soul, and in a future retribution; but I am considering itactually and historically; and in this point of view, I do not thinkI am wrong in saying that its tendency is towards a simple unbeliefin matters of religion. No truth, however sacred, can stand againstit, in the long run; and hence it is that in the pagan world, whenour Lord came, the last traces of the religious knowledge of formertimes were all but disappearing from those portions of the world inwhich the intellect had been active and had had a career. 

And in these latter days, in like manner, outside the Catholic Churchthings are tending, with far greater rapidity than in that old timefrom the circumstance of the age, to atheism in one shape or other. What a scene, what a prospect, does the whole of Europe present atthis day! and not only Europe, but every government and everycivilization through the world, which is under the influence of theEuropean mind! Especially, for it most concerns us, how sorrowful, inthe view of religion, even taken in its most elementary, mostattenuated form, is the spectacle presented to us by the educatedintellect of England, France, and Germany! Lovers of their countryand of their race, religious men, external to the Catholic Church, have attempted various expedients to arrest fierce wilful humannature in its onward course, and to bring it into subjection. Thenecessity of some form of religion for the interests of humanity, hasbeen generally acknowledged: but where was the concreterepresentative of things invisible, which would have the force andthe toughness necessary to be a breakwater against the deluge? Threecenturies ago the establishment of religion, material, legal, andsocial, was generally adopted as the best expedient for the purpose, in those countries which separated from the Catholic Church; and fora long time it was successful; but now the crevices of thoseestablishments are admitting the enemy. Thirty years ago, educationwas relied upon: ten years ago there was a hope that wars would ceasefor ever, under the influence of commercial enterprise and the reignof the useful and fine arts; but will any one venture to say thatthere is anything anywhere on this earth, which will afford a fulcrumfor us, whereby to keep the earth from moving onwards?

The judgment, which experience passes on establishments or education, as a means of maintaining religious truth in this anarchical world, must be extended even to Scripture, though Scripture be divine. Experience proves surely that the Bible does not answer a purpose, for which it was never intended. It may be accidentally the means ofthe conversion of individuals; but a book, after all, cannot make astand against the wild living intellect of man, and in this day itbegins to testify, as regards its own structure and contents, to thepower of that universal solvent, which is so successfully acting uponreligious establishments. 

Supposing then it to be the Will of the Creator to interfere in humanaffairs, and to make provisions for retaining in the world aknowledge of Himself, so definite and distinct as to be proof againstthe energy of human scepticism, in such a case--I am far from sayingthat there was no other way--but there is nothing to surprise themind, if He should think fit to introduce a power into the world, invested with the prerogative of infallibility in religious matters. Such a provision would be a direct, immediate, active, and promptmeans of withstanding the difficulty; it would be an instrumentsuited to the need; and, when I find that this is the very claim ofthe Catholic Church, not only do I feel no difficulty in admittingthe idea, but there is a fitness in it, which recommends it to mymind. And thus I am brought to speak of the Church's infallibility, as a provision, adapted by the mercy of the Creator, to preservereligion in the world, and to restrain that freedom of thought, whichof course in itself is one of the greatest of our natural gifts, andto rescue it from its own suicidal excesses. And let it be observedthat, neither here nor in what follows, shall I have occasion tospeak directly of the revealed body of truths, but only as they bearupon the defence of natural religion. I say, that a power, possessedof infallibility in religious teaching, is happily adapted to bea working instrument, in the course of human affairs, for smitinghard and throwing back the immense energy of the aggressiveintellect:--and in saying this, as in the other things that I have tosay, it must still be recollected that I am all along bearing in mindmy main purpose, which is a defence of myself. 

I am defending myself here from a plausible charge brought againstCatholics, as will be seen better as I proceed. The charge isthis:--that I, as a Catholic, not only make profession to holddoctrines which I cannot possibly believe in my heart, but that Ialso believe in the existence of a power on earth, which at its ownwill imposes upon men any new set of _credenda_, when it pleases, bya claim to infallibility; in consequence, that my own thoughts arenot my own property; that I cannot tell that tomorrow I may not haveto give up what I hold today, and that the necessary effect of sucha condition of mind must be a degrading bondage, or a bitter inwardrebellion relieving itself in secret infidelity, or the necessity ofignoring the whole subject of religion in a sort of disgust, and ofmechanically saying everything that the Church says, and leaving toothers the defence of it. As then I have above spoken of the relationof my mind towards the Catholic Creed, so now I shall speak of theattitude which it takes up in the view of the Church's infallibility. 

And first, the initial doctrine of the infallible teacher must be anemphatic protest against the existing state of mankind. Man hadrebelled against his Maker. It was this that caused the divineinterposition: and the first act of the divinely accredited messengermust be to proclaim it. The Church must denounce rebellion as of allpossible evils the greatest. She must have no terms with it; if shewould be true to her Master, she must ban and anathematise it. Thisis the meaning of a statement which has furnished matter for one ofthose special accusations to which I am at present replying: I have, however, no fault at all to confess in regard to it; I have nothingto withdraw, and in consequence I here deliberately repeat it. Isaid, "The Catholic Church holds it better for the sun and moon todrop from heaven, for the earth to fail, and for all the manymillions on it to die of starvation in extremest agony, as far astemporal affliction goes, than that one soul, I will not say, shouldbe lost, but should commit one single venial sin, should tell onewilful untruth, or should steal one poor farthing without excuse. " Ithink the principle here enunciated to be the mere preamble in theformal credentials of the Catholic Church, as an Act of Parliamentmight begin with a "_Whereas_. " It is because of the intensity of theevil which has possession of mankind, that a suitable antagonisthas been provided against it; and the initial act of thatdivinely-commissioned power is of course to deliver her challengeand to defy the enemy. Such a preamble then gives a meaning to herposition in the world, and an interpretation to her whole course ofteaching and action. 

In like manner she has ever put forth, with most energeticdistinctness, those other great elementary truths, which either arean explanation of her mission or give a character to her work. Shedoes not teach that human nature is irreclaimable, else whereforeshould she be sent? not that it is to be shattered and reversed, butto be extricated, purified, and restored; not that it is a mere massof evil, but that it has the promise of great things, and even nowhas a virtue and a praise proper to itself. But in the next placeshe knows and she preaches that such a restoration, as she aims ateffecting in it, must be brought about, not simply through anyoutward provision of preaching and teaching, even though it be herown, but from a certain inward spiritual power or grace imparteddirectly from above, and which is in her keeping. She has it incharge to rescue human nature from its misery, but not simply byraising it upon its own level, but by lifting it up to a higher levelthan its own. She recognises in it real moral excellence thoughdegraded, but she cannot set it free from earth except by exalting ittowards heaven. It was for this end that a renovating grace was putinto her hands, and therefore from the nature of the gift, as well asfrom the reasonableness of the case, she goes on, as a further point, to insist, that all true conversion must begin with the first springsof thought, and to teach that each individual man must be in his ownperson one whole and perfect temple of God, while he is also one ofthe living stones which build up a visible religious community. Andthus the distinctions between nature and grace, and between outwardand inward religion, become two further articles in what I havecalled the preamble of her divine commission. 

Such truths as these she vigorously reiterates, and pertinaciouslyinflicts upon mankind; as to such she observes no half-measures, noeconomical reserve, no delicacy or prudence. "Ye must be born again, "is the simple, direct form of words which she uses after her DivineMaster; "your whole nature must be re-born, your passions, and youraffections, and your aims, and your conscience, and your will, mustall be bathed in a new element, and reconsecrated to your Maker, and, the last not the least, your intellect. " It was for repeating thesepoints of her teaching in my own way, that certain passages of one ofmy volumes have been brought into the general accusation which hasbeen made against my religious opinions. The writer has said that Iwas demented if I believed, and unprincipled if I did not believe, inmy statement that a lazy, ragged, filthy, story-telling beggar-woman, if chaste, sober, cheerful, and religious, had a prospect of heaven, which was absolutely closed to an accomplished statesman, or lawyer, or noble, be he ever so just, upright, generous, honourable, andconscientious, unless he had also some portion of the divineChristian grace; yet I should have thought myself defended fromcriticism by the words which our Lord used to the chief priests, "The publicans and harlots go into the kingdom of God before you. "And I was subjected again to the same alternative of imputations, for having ventured to say that consent to an unchaste wish wasindefinitely more heinous than any lie viewed apart from its causes, its motives, and its consequences; though a lie, viewed under thelimitation of these conditions, is a random utterance, an almostoutward act, not directly from the heart, however disgraceful it maybe, whereas we have the express words of our Lord to the doctrinethat "whoso looketh on a woman to lust after her, hath committedadultery with her already in his heart. " On the strength of thesetexts I have surely as much right to believe in these doctrinesas to believe in the doctrine of original sin, or that there is asupernatural revelation, or that a Divine Person suffered, or thatpunishment is eternal. 

Passing now from what I have called the preamble of that grant ofpower, with which the Church is invested, to that power itself, Infallibility, I make two brief remarks: on the one hand, I am nothere determining anything about the essential seat of that power, because that is a question doctrinal, not historical and practical;nor, on the other hand, am I extending the direct subject-matter, over which that power has jurisdiction, beyond religiousopinion:--and now as to the power itself. 

This power, viewed in its fulness, is as tremendous as the giant evilwhich has called for it. It claims, when brought into exercise in thelegitimate manner, for otherwise of course it is but dormant, to havefor itself a sure guidance into the very meaning of every portion ofthe divine message in detail, which was committed by our Lord to HisApostles. It claims to know its own limits, and to decide what it candetermine absolutely and what it cannot. It claims, moreover, to havea hold upon statements not directly religious, so far as this, todetermine whether they indirectly relate to religion, and, accordingto its own definitive judgment, to pronounce whether or not, in aparticular case, they are consistent with revealed truth. It claimsto decide magisterially, whether infallibly or not, that such andsuch statements are or are not prejudicial to the apostolic_depositum_ of faith, in their spirit or in their consequences, andto allow them, or condemn and forbid them, accordingly. It claims toimpose silence at will on any matters, or controversies, of doctrine, which on its own _ipse dixit_, it pronounces to be dangerous, or inexpedient, or inopportune. It claims that whatever may be thejudgment of Catholics upon such acts, these acts should be receivedby them with those outward marks of reverence, submission, andloyalty, which Englishmen, for instance, pay to the presence of theirsovereign, without public criticism on them, as being in their matterinexpedient, or in their manner violent or harsh. And lastly, itclaims to have the right of inflicting spiritual punishment, ofcutting off from the ordinary channels of the divine life, and ofsimply excommunicating, those who refuse to submit themselves to itsformal declarations. Such is the infallibility lodged in the CatholicChurch, viewed in the concrete, as clothed and surrounded by theappendages of its high sovereignty: it is, to repeat what I saidabove, a supereminent prodigious power sent upon earth to encounterand master a giant evil. 

And now, having thus described it, I profess my own absolutesubmission to its claim. I believe the whole revealed dogma as taughtby the apostles, as committed by the apostles to the Church, andas declared by the Church to me. I receive it, as it is infalliblyinterpreted by the authority to whom it is thus committed, and(implicitly) as it shall be, in like manner, further interpreted bythat same authority till the end of time. I submit, moreover, to theuniversally received traditions of the Church, in which lies thematter of those new dogmatic definitions which are from time to timemade, and which in all times are the clothing and the illustration ofthe Catholic dogma as already defined. And I submit myself to thoseother decisions of the holy see, theological or not, through theorgans which it has itself appointed, which, waiving the question oftheir infallibility, on the lowest ground come to me with a claim tobe accepted and obeyed. Also, I consider that, gradually and in thecourse of ages, Catholic inquiry has taken certain definite shapes, and has thrown itself into the form of a science, with a method anda phraseology of its own, under the intellectual handling of greatminds, such as St. Athanasius, St. Augustine, and St. Thomas; andI feel no temptation at all to break in pieces the great legacy ofthought thus committed to us for these latter days. 

All this being considered as the profession _ex animo_, as on my ownpart, so also on the part of the Catholic body, as far as I know it, it will at first sight be said that the restless intellect of ourcommon humanity is utterly weighed down to the repression of allindependent effort and action whatever, so that, if this is to be themode of bringing it into order, it is brought into order only to bedestroyed. But this is far from the result, far from what I conceiveto be the intention of that high Providence who has provided a greatremedy for a great evil--far from borne out by the history of theconflict between infallibility and reason in the past, and theprospect of it in the future. The energy of the human intellect "doesfrom opposition grow;" it thrives and is joyous, with a tough elasticstrength, under the terrible blows of the divinely-fashioned weapon, and is never so much itself as when it has lately been overthrown. Itis the custom with Protestant writers to consider that, whereas thereare two great principles in action in the history of religion, Authority and Private Judgment, they have all the Private Judgment tothemselves, and we have the full inheritance and the superincumbentoppression of Authority. But this is not so; it is the vast Catholicbody itself, and it only, which affords an arena for both combatantsin that awful, never-dying duel. It is necessary for the very lifeof religion, viewed in its large operations and its history, thatthe warfare should be incessantly carried on. Every exercise ofInfallibility is brought out into act by an intense and variedoperation of the Reason, from within and without, and provokes againa re-action of Reason against it; and, as in a civil polity theState exists and endures by means of the rivalry and collision, theencroachments and defeats of its constituent parts, so in like mannerCatholic Christendom is no simple exhibition of religious absolutism, but it presents a continuous picture of Authority and PrivateJudgment alternately advancing and retreating as the ebb and flow ofthe tide;--it is a vast assemblage of human beings with wilfulintellects and wild passions, brought together into one by the beautyand the majesty of a superhuman power--into what may be called alarge reformatory or training-school, not to be sent to bed, not tobe buried alive, but for the melting, refining, and moulding, as insome moral factory, by an incessant noisy process (if I may proceedto another metaphor), of the raw material of human nature, soexcellent, so dangerous, so capable of divine purposes. 

St. Paul says in one place that his apostolical power is given him toedification, and not to destruction. There can be no better accountof the Infallibility of the Church. It is a supply for a need, and itdoes not go beyond that need. Its object is, and its effect also, not to enfeeble the freedom or vigour of human thought in religiousspeculation, but to resist and control its extravagance. What havebeen its great works? All of them in the distinct province oftheology:--to put down Arianism, Eutychianism, Pelagianism, Manichæism, Lutheranism, Jansenism. Such is the broad result of itsaction in the past;--and now as to the securities which are given usthat so it ever will act in time to come. 

First, infallibility cannot act outside of a definite circle ofthought, and it must in all its decisions, or _definitions_, as theyare called, profess to be keeping within it. The great truths of themoral law, of natural religion, and of apostolical faith, are bothits boundary and its foundation. It must not go beyond them, and itmust ever appeal to them. Both its subject-matter, and its articlesin that subject-matter, are fixed. Thus, in illustration, it does notextend to statements, however sound and evident, which are merelogical conclusions from the articles of the apostolic _Depositum_;again, it can pronounce nothing about the persons of heretics, whoseworks fall within its legitimate province. It must ever professto be guided by Scripture and by tradition. It must refer to theparticular apostolic truth which it is enforcing, or (what is called)_defining_. Nothing, then, can be presented to me, in time to come, as part of the faith, but what I ought already to have received, andhave not actually received, (if not) merely because it has not beentold me. Nothing can be imposed upon me different in kind from what Ihold already--much less contrary to it. The new truth which ispromulgated, if it is to be called new, must be at least homogeneous, cognate, implicit, viewed relatively to the old truth. It must bewhat I may even have guessed, or wished, to be included in theapostolic revelation; and at least it will be of such a character, that my thoughts readily concur in it or coalesce with it, as soon asI hear it. Perhaps I and others actually have always believed it, andthe only question which is now decided in my behalf, is that I amhenceforth to believe that I have only been holding what the apostlesheld before me. 

Let me take the doctrine which Protestants consider our greatestdifficulty, that of the Immaculate Conception. Here I entreatthe reader to recollect my main drift, which is this. I have nodifficulty in receiving it: if _I_ have no difficulty, why may notanother have no difficulty also? why may not a hundred? a thousand?Now I am sure that Catholics in general have not any intellectualdifficulty at all on the subject of the Immaculate Conception; andthat there is no reason why they should. Priests have no difficulty. You tell me that they _ought_ to have a difficulty;--but they havenot. Be large-minded enough to believe, that men may reason and feelvery differently from yourselves; how is it that men fall, when leftto themselves, into such various forms of religion, except that thereare various types of mind among them, very distinct from each other?From my testimony then about myself, if you believe it, judge ofothers also who are Catholics: we do not find the difficulties whichyou do in the doctrines which we hold; we have no intellectualdifficulty in that in particular, which you call a novelty of thisday. We priests need not be hypocrites, though we be called upon tobelieve in the Immaculate Conception. To that large class of minds, who believe in Christianity, after our manner, --in the particulartemper, spirit, and light (whatever word is used) in which Catholicsbelieve it--there is no burden at all in holding that the BlessedVirgin was conceived without original sin; indeed, it is a simplefact to say, that Catholics have not come to believe it because it isdefined, but it was defined because they believed it. 

So far from the definition in 1854 being a tyrannical infliction onthe Catholic world, it was received everywhere on its promulgationwith the greatest enthusiasm. It was in consequence of the unanimouspetition, presented from all parts to the holy see, in behalf of adeclaration that the doctrine was apostolic, that it was declared soto be. I never heard of one Catholic having difficulties in receivingit, whose faith on other grounds was not already suspicious. Ofcourse there were grave and good men, who were made anxious by thedoubt whether it could be proved apostolical either by Scripture ortradition, and who accordingly, though believing it themselves, didnot see how it could be defined by authority; but this is anothermatter. The point in question is, whether the doctrine is a burden. I believe it to be none. So far from it being so, I sincerely thinkthat St. Bernard and St. Thomas, who scrupled at it in their day, hadthey lived into this, would have rejoiced to accept it for its ownsake. Their difficulty, as I view it, consisted in matters of words, ideas, and arguments. They thought the doctrine inconsistent withother doctrines; and those who defended it in that age had not thatprecision in their view of it, which has been given to it by means ofthe long controversy of the centuries which followed. And hence thedifference of opinion, and the controversy. 

Now the instance which I have been taking suggests another remark;the number of those (so called) new doctrines will not oppress us, if it takes eight centuries to promulgate even one of them. Such isabout the length of time through which the preparation has beencarried on for the definition of the Immaculate Conception. This ofcourse is an extraordinary case; but it is difficult to say what isordinary, considering how few are the formal occasions on which thevoice of infallibility has been solemnly lifted up. It is to thePope in ecumenical council that we look, as to the normal seat ofinfallibility: now there have been only eighteen such councils sinceChristianity was--an average of one to a century--and of thesecouncils some passed no doctrinal decree at all, others were employedon only one, and many of them were concerned with only elementarypoints of the Creed. The Council of Trent embraced a large field ofdoctrine certainly; but I should apply to its canons a remarkcontained in that University Sermon of mine, which has been soignorantly criticised in the pamphlet which has led to my writing;--Ithere have said that the various verses of the Athanasian Creed areonly repetitions in various shapes of one and the same idea; and inlike manner, the Tridentine decrees are not isolated from each other, but are occupied in bringing out in detail, by a number of separatedeclarations, as if into bodily form, a few necessary truths. Ishould make the same remark on the various theses condemned by popes, and on their dogmatic decisions generally. I acknowledge that atfirst sight they seem from their number to be a greater burden to thefaith of individuals than are the canons of councils; still I do notbelieve in matter of fact that they are so at all, and I give thisreason for it:--it is not that a Catholic, layman or priest, isindifferent to the subject, or, from a sort of recklessness, willaccept anything that is placed before him, or is willing, likea lawyer, to speak according to his brief, but that in suchcondemnations the holy see is engaged, for the most part, inrepudiating one or two great lines of error, such as Lutheranism orJansenism, principally ethical not doctrinal, which are foreign tothe Catholic mind, and that it is expressing what any good Catholic, of fair abilities, though unlearned, would say himself, from commonand sound sense, if the matter could be put before him. 

Now I will go on in fairness to say what I think _is_ the great trialto the reason, when confronted with that august prerogative of theCatholic Church, of which I have been speaking. I enlarged just nowupon the concrete shape and circumstances, under which pureinfallible authority presents itself to the Catholic. That authorityhas the prerogative of an indirect jurisdiction on subject-matterswhich lie beyond its own proper limits, and it most reasonably hassuch a jurisdiction. It could not act in its own province, unless ithad a right to act out of it. It could not properly defend religioustruth, without claiming for it what may be called its _pomoeria_;or, to take another illustration, without acting as we act, as anation, in claiming as our own, not only the land on which we live, but what are called British waters. The Catholic Church claims, notonly to judge infallibly on religious questions, but to animadvert onopinions in secular matters which bear upon religion, on matters ofphilosophy, of science, of literature, of history, and it demands oursubmission to her claim. It claims to censure books, to silenceauthors, and to forbid discussions. In all this it does not so muchspeak doctrinally, as enforce measures of discipline. It must ofcourse be obeyed without a word, and perhaps in process of time itwill tacitly recede from its own injunctions. In such cases thequestion of faith does not come in; for what is matter of faith istrue for all times, and never can be unsaid. Nor does it at allfollow, because there is a gift of infallibility in the CatholicChurch, that therefore the power in possession of it is in all itsproceedings infallible. "O, it is excellent, " says the poet, "to havea giant's strength, but tyrannous, to use it like a giant. " I thinkhistory supplies us with instances in the Church, where legitimatepower has been harshly used. To make such admission is no more thansaying that the divine treasure, in the words of the apostle, is "inearthen vessels;" nor does it follow that the substance of the actsof the ruling power is not right and expedient, because its mannermay have been faulty. Such high authorities act by means ofinstruments; we know how such instruments claim for themselves thename of their principals, who thus get the credit of faults whichreally are not theirs. But granting all this to an extent greaterthan can with any show of reason be imputed to the ruling power inthe Church, what is there in this want of prudence or moderation morethan can be urged, with far greater justice, against Protestantcommunities and institutions? What is there in it to make ushypocrites, if it has not that effect upon Protestants? We are calledupon, not to profess anything, but to submit and be silent. Suchinjunctions as I have supposed are laid merely upon our actions, notupon our thoughts. How, for instance, does it tend to make a man ahypocrite, to be forbidden to publish a libel? his thoughts are asfree as before: authoritative prohibitions may tease and irritate, but they have no bearing whatever upon the exercise of reason. 

So much at first sight; but I will go on to say further, that, in spite of all that the most hostile critic may say upon theencroachments or severities of high ecclesiastics, in times past, inthe use of their power, I think that the event has shown after all, that they were mainly in the right, and that those whom they werehard upon mainly in the wrong. I love, for instance, the name ofOrigen: I will not listen to the notion that so great a soul waslost; but I am quite sure that, in the contest between his doctrineand his followers and ecclesiastical power, his opponents were right, and he was wrong. Yet who can speak with patience of his enemyand the enemy of St. John Chrysostom, that Theophilus, bishop ofAlexandria? who can admire or revere Pope Vigilius? And hereanother consideration presents itself to my thoughts. In readingecclesiastical history, when I was an Anglican, it used to beforcibly brought home to me, how the initial error of what afterwardsbecame heresy was the urging forward some truth against theprohibition of authority at an unseasonable time. There is a time foreverything, and many a man desires a reformation of an abuse, or thefuller development of a doctrine, or the adoption of a particularpolicy, but forgets to ask himself whether the right time for it iscome; and, knowing that there is no one who will do anything towardsit in his own lifetime unless he does it himself, he will not listento the voice of authority, and spoils a good work in his own century, that another man, as yet unborn, may not bring it happily toperfection in the next. He may seem to the world to be nothing elsethan a bold champion for the truth and a martyr to free opinion, whenhe is just one of those persons whom the competent authority ought tosilence, and, though the case may not fall within that subject-matterin which it is infallible, or the formal conditions of the exerciseof that gift may be wanting, it is clearly the duty of authority toact vigorously in the case. Yet that act will go down to posterity asan instance of a tyrannical interference with private judgment, andof the silencing of a reformer, and of a base love of corruption orerror; and it will show still less to advantage, if the ruling powerhappens in its proceedings to act with any defect of prudence orconsideration. And all those who take the part of that rulingauthority will be considered as time-servers, or indifferent to thecause of uprightness and truth; while, on the other hand, the saidauthority may be supported by a violent ultra party, which exaltsopinions into dogmas, and has it principally at heart to destroyevery school of thought but its own. 

Such a state of things may be provoking and discouraging at the time, in the case of two classes of persons; of moderate men who wish tomake differences in religious opinion as little as they fairly canbe made; and of such as keenly perceive, and are honestly eager toremedy, existing evils--evils, of which divines in this or thatforeign country know nothing at all, and which even at home it is notevery one who has the means of estimating. This is a state of thingsboth of past time and of the present. We live in a wonderful age; theenlargement of the circle of secular knowledge just now is simplya bewilderment, and the more so, because it has the promise ofcontinuing, and that with greater rapidity, and more signal results. Now these discoveries, certain or probable, have in matter of fact anindirect bearing upon religious opinions, and the question arises howare the respective claims of revelation and of natural science to beadjusted. Few minds in earnest can remain at ease without some sortof rational grounds for their religious belief; to reconcile theoryand fact is almost an instinct of the mind. When then a flood offacts, ascertained or suspected, comes pouring in upon us, with amultitude of others in prospect, all believers in revelation, bethey Catholic or not, are roused to consider their bearing uponthemselves, both for the honour of God, and from tenderness for thosemany souls who, in consequence of the confident tone of the schoolsof secular knowledge, are in danger of being led away into abottomless liberalism of thought. 

I am not going to criticise here that vast body of men, in the mass, who at this time would profess to be liberals in religion; and wholook towards the discoveries of the age, certain or in progress, astheir informants, direct or indirect, as to what they shall thinkabout the unseen and the future. The Liberalism which gives a colourto society now, is very different from that character of thoughtwhich bore the name thirty or forty years ago. It is scarcely now aparty; it is the educated lay world. When I was young, I knew theword first as giving name to a periodical, set up by Lord Byron andothers. Now, as then, I have no sympathy with the philosophy ofByron. Afterwards, Liberalism was the badge of a theological school, of a dry and repulsive character, not very dangerous in itself, though dangerous as opening the door to evils which it did not itselfeither anticipate or comprehend. Now it is nothing else than thatdeep, plausible scepticism, of which I spoke above, as being thedevelopment of human reason, as practically exercised by the naturalman. 

The Liberal religionists of this day are a very mixed body, andtherefore I am not intending to speak against them. There may be, anddoubtless is, in the hearts of some or many of them a real antipathyor anger against revealed truth, which it is distressing to think of. Again; in many men of science or literature there may be an animosityarising from almost a personal feeling; it being a matter of party, apoint of honour, the excitement of a game, or a consequence ofsoreness or annoyance occasioned by the acrimony or narrowness ofapologists for religion, to prove that Christianity or that Scriptureis untrustworthy. Many scientific and literary men, on the otherhand, go on, I am confident, in a straightforward impartial way, intheir own province and on their own line of thought, without anydisturbance from religious opinion in themselves, or any wish at allto give pain to others by the result of their investigations. Itwould ill become me, as if I were afraid of truth of any kind, toblame those who pursue secular facts, by means of the reason whichGod has given them, to their logical conclusions: or to be angry withscience because religion is bound to take cognizance of its teaching. But putting these particular classes of men aside, as having nospecial call on the sympathy of the Catholic, of course he does mostdeeply enter into the feelings of a fourth and large class of men, inthe educated portions of society, of religious and sincere minds, whoare simply perplexed--frightened or rendered desperate, as the casemay be--by the utter confusion into which late discoveries orspeculations have thrown their most elementary ideas of religion. Whodoes not feel for such men? who can have one unkind thought of them?I take up St. Augustine's beautiful words, "Illi in vos sæviant, "etc. Let them be fierce with you who have no experience of thedifficulty with which error is discriminated from truth, and the wayof life is found amid the illusions of the world. How many Catholicshave in their thoughts followed such men, many of them so good, sotrue, so noble! how often has the wish risen in their hearts thatsome one from among themselves should come forward as the champion ofrevealed truth against its opponents! Various persons, Catholic andProtestant, have asked me to do so myself; but I had several strongdifficulties in the way. One of the greatest is this, that at themoment it is so difficult to say precisely what it is that is to beencountered and overthrown. I am far from denying that scientificknowledge is really growing, but it is by fits and starts; hypothesesrise and fall; it is difficult to anticipate which will keep theirground, and what the state of knowledge in relation to them will befrom year to year. In this condition of things, it has seemed to meto be very undignified for a Catholic to commit himself to the workof chasing what might turn out to be phantoms, and in behalf of somespecial objections, to be ingenious in devising a theory, which, before it was completed, might have to give place to some theorynewer still, from the fact that those former objections had alreadycome to nought under the uprising of others. It seemed to be a timeof all others, in which Christians had a call to be patient, in whichthey had no other way of helping those who were alarmed, than that ofexhorting them to have a little faith and fortitude, and to "beware, "as the poet says, "of dangerous steps. " This seemed so clear to me, the more I thought, as to make me surmise, that, if I attempted whathad so little promise in it, I should find that the highest Catholicauthority was against the attempt, and that I should have spent mytime and my thought, in doing what either it would be imprudent tobring before the public at all, or what, did I do so, would onlycomplicate matters further which were already complicated more thanenough. And I interpret recent acts of that authority as fulfillingmy expectation; I interpret them as tying the hands of acontroversialist, such as I should be, and teaching us that truewisdom, which Moses inculcated on his people, when the Egyptians werepursuing them, "Fear ye not, stand still; the Lord shall fight foryou, and ye shall hold your peace. " And so far from finding adifficulty in obeying in this case, I have cause to be thankful andto rejoice to have so clear a direction in a matter of difficulty. 

But if we would ascertain with correctness the real course of aprinciple, we must look at it at a certain distance, and as historyrepresents it to us. Nothing carried on by human instruments, but hasits irregularities, and affords ground for criticism, when minutelyscrutinised in matters of detail. I have been speaking of that aspectof the action of an infallible authority, which is most open toinvidious criticism from those who view it from without; I have triedto be fair, in estimating what can be said to its disadvantage, aswitnessed in the Catholic Church, and now I wish its adversaries tobe equally fair in their judgment upon its historical character. Can, then, the infallible authority, with any show of reason, be said infact to have destroyed the energy of the intellect in the CatholicChurch? Let it be observed, I have not to speak of any conflict whichecclesiastical authority has had with science, for there has beennone such, because the secular sciences, as they now exist, are anovelty in the world, and there has been no time yet for a history ofrelations between theology and these new methods of knowledge, andindeed the Church may be said to have kept clear of them, as isproved by the constantly cited case of Galileo. Here "exceptio probatregulam:" for it is the one stock argument. Again, I have not tospeak of any relations of the Church to the new sciences, because mysimple question is whether the assumption of infallibility by theproper authority is adapted to make me a hypocrite, and till thatauthority passes decrees on pure physical subjects and calls on meto subscribe them (which it never will do, because it has not thepower), it has no tendency by its acts to interfere with my privatejudgment on those points. The simple question is whether authorityhas so acted upon the reason of individuals, that they can have noopinion of their own, and have but an alternative of slavishsuperstition or secret rebellion of heart; and I think the wholehistory of theology puts an absolute negative upon such asupposition. It is hardly necessary to argue out so plain a point. Itis individuals, and not the holy see, who have taken the initiative, and given the lead to Catholic minds, in theological inquiry. Indeed, it is one of the reproaches urged against the Church of Rome, that ithas originated nothing, and has only served as a sort of _remora_ orbreak in the development of doctrine. And it is an objection which Iembrace as a truth; for such I conceive to be the main purpose of itsextraordinary gift. It is said, and truly, that the Church of Romepossessed no great mind in the whole period of persecution. Afterwards for a long while, it has not a single doctor to show; St. Leo, its first, is the teacher of one point of doctrine; St. Gregory, who stands at the very extremity of the first age of the Church, hasno place in dogma or philosophy. The great luminary of the westernworld is, as we know, St. Augustine; he, no infallible teacher, hasformed the intellect of Europe; indeed to the African Churchgenerally we must look for the best early exposition of Latin ideas. The case is the same as regards the ecumenical councils. Authorityin its most imposing exhibition, grave bishops, laden with thetraditions and rivalries of particular nations or places, have beenguided in their decisions by the commanding genius of individuals, sometimes young and of inferior rank. Not that uninspired intellectoverruled the super-human gift which was committed to the council, which would be a self-contradictory assertion, but that in thatprocess of inquiry and deliberation, which ended in an infallibleenunciation, individual reason was paramount. Thus the writings ofSt. Bonaventura, and, what is more to the point, the address of apriest and theologian, Salmeron, at Trent, had a critical effect onsome of the definitions of dogmas. Parallel to this is the influence, so well known, of a young deacon, St. Athanasius, with the 318Fathers at Nicæa. In like manner we hear of the influence of St. Anselm at Bari, and St. Thomas at Lyons. In the latter cases theinfluence might be partly moral, but in the former it was that of adiscursive knowledge of ecclesiastical writers, a scientificacquaintance with theology, and a force of thought in the treatmentof doctrine. 

There are of course intellectual habits which theology does nottend to form, as for instance the experimental, and again thephilosophical; but that is because it _is_ theology, not because ofthe gift of infallibility. But, as far as this goes, I think it couldbe shown that physical science on the other hand, or mathematical, affords but an imperfect training for the intellect. I do not seethen how any objection about the narrowness of theology comes intoour question, which simply is, whether the belief in an infallibleauthority destroys the independence of the mind; and I consider thatthe whole history of the Church, and especially the history of thetheological schools, gives a negative to the accusation. There neverwas a time when the intellect of the educated class was more active, or rather more restless, than in the middle ages. And then againall through Church history from the first, how slow is authorityin interfering! Perhaps a local teacher, or a doctor in some localschool, hazards a proposition, and a controversy ensues. It smouldersor burns in one place, no one interposing; Rome simply lets it alone. Then it comes before a Bishop; or some priest, or some professor insome other seat of learning takes it up; and then there is a secondstage of it. Then it comes before a University, and it may becondemned by the theological faculty. So the controversy proceedsyear after year, and Rome is still silent. An appeal perhaps is nextmade to a seat of authority inferior to Rome; and then at last aftera long while it comes before the supreme power. Meanwhile, thequestion has been ventilated and turned over and over again, andviewed on every side of it, and authority is called upon to pronouncea decision, which has already been arrived at by reason. But eventhen, perhaps the supreme authority hesitates to do so, and nothingis determined on the point for years; or so generally and vaguely, that the whole controversy has to be gone through again, before it isultimately determined. It is manifest how a mode of proceeding, suchas this, tends not only to the liberty, but to the courage, of theindividual theologian or controversialist. Many a man has ideas, which he hopes are true, and useful for his day, but he wishes tohave them discussed. He is willing or rather would be thankful togive them up, if they can be proved to be erroneous or dangerous, andby means of controversy he obtains his end. He is answered, and heyields; or he finds that he is considered safe. He would not dare todo this, if he knew an authority, which was supreme and final, waswatching every word he said, and made signs of assent or dissent toeach sentence, as he uttered it. Then indeed he would be fighting, asthe Persian soldiers, under the lash, and the freedom of hisintellect might truly be said to be beaten out of him. But this hasnot been so:--I do not mean to say that, when controversies run high, in schools or even in small portions of the Church, an interpositionmay not rightly take place; and again, questions may be of thaturgent nature, that an appeal must, as a matter of duty, be made atonce to the highest authority in the Church; but, if we look into thehistory of controversy, we shall find, I think, the general run ofthings to be such as I have represented it. Zosimus treated Pelagiusand Coelestius with extreme forbearance; St. Gregory VII. Wasequally indulgent with Berengarius; by reason of the very power ofthe popes they have commonly been slow and moderate in their use ofit. 

And here again is a further shelter for the individual reason:--themultitude of nations who are in the fold of the Church will be foundto have acted for its protection, against any narrowness, if so, in the various authorities at Rome, with whom lies the practicaldecision of controverted questions. How have the Greek traditionsbeen respected and provided for in the later Ecumenical Councils, inspite of the countries that held them being in a state of schism!There are important points of doctrine which have been (humanlyspeaking) exempted from the infallible sentence, by the tendernesswith which its instruments, in framing it, have treated the opinionsof particular places. Then, again, such national influences have aprovidential effect in moderating the bias which the local influencesof Italy may exert upon the See of St. Peter. It stands to reasonthat, as the Gallican Church has in it an element of France, so Romemust have an element of Italy; and it is no prejudice to the zeal anddevotion with which we submit ourselves to the holy see to admit thisplainly. It seems to me, as I have been saying, that Catholicity isnot only one of the notes of the Church, but, according to the divinepurposes, one of its securities. I think it would be a very seriousevil, which Divine Mercy avert! that the Church should be contractedin Europe within the range of particular nationalities. It is a greatidea to introduce Latin civilization into America, and to improvethe Catholics there by the energy of French religion; but I trustthat all European races will have ever a place in the Church, andassuredly I think that the loss of the English, not to say theGerman element, in its composition has been a most serious evil. And certainly, if there is one consideration more than another whichshould make us English grateful to Pius the Ninth, it is that, bygiving us a Church of our own, he has prepared the way for our ownhabits of mind, our own manner of reasoning, our own tastes, and ourown virtues, finding a place and thereby a sanctification, in theCatholic Church. 

There is only one other subject, which I think it necessary tointroduce here, as bearing upon the vague suspicions which areattached in this country to the Catholic priesthood. It is one ofwhich my accuser says much, the charge of reserve and economy. Hefounds it in no slight degree on what I have said on the subject inmy History of the Arians, and in a note upon one of my sermons inwhich I refer to it. The principle of reserve is also advocated by anadmirable writer in two numbers of the Tracts for the Times. 

Now, as to the economy itself, I leave the greater part of what Ihave to say to an Appendix. Here I will but say that it is foundedupon the words of our Lord, "Cast not your pearls before swine;"and it was observed by the early Christians more or less in theirintercourse with the heathen populations among whom they lived. Inthe midst of the abominable idolatries and impurities of that fearfultime, they could not do otherwise. But the rule of the economy, atleast as I have explained and recommended it, did not go beyond (1)the concealing the truth when we could do so without deceit, (2)stating it only partially, and (3) representing it under the nearestform possible to a learner or inquirer, when he could not possiblyunderstand it exactly. I conceive that to draw angels with wings isan instance of the third of these economical modes; and to avoid thequestion, "Do Christians believe in a Trinity?" by answering, "Theybelieve in only one God, " would be an instance of the second. As tothe first, it is hardly an economy, but comes under what is calledthe "Disciplina Arcani. " The second and third economical modesClement calls _lying_; meaning that a partial truth is in some sensea lie, and so also is a representative truth. And this, I think, isabout the long and the short of the ground of the accusation whichhas been so violently urged against me, as being a patron of theeconomy. 

Of late years I have come to think, as I believe most writers do, that Clement meant more than I have said. I used to think he used theword "lie" as an hyperbole, but I now believe that he, as other earlyFathers, thought that, under certain circumstances, it was lawfulto tell a lie. This doctrine I never maintained, though I used tothink, as I do now, that the theory of the subject is surrounded withconsiderable difficulty; and it is not strange that I should say so, considering that great English writers simply declare that in certainextreme cases, as to save life, honour, or even property, a lie isallowable. And thus I am brought to the direct question of truth, andthe truthfulness of Catholic priests generally in their dealings withthe world, as bearing on the general question of their honesty, andtheir internal belief in their religious professions. 

It would answer no purpose, and it would be departing from the lineof writing which I have been observing all along, if I entered intoany formal discussion on the subject; what I shall do here, as I havedone in the foregoing pages, is to give my own testimony on thematter in question, and there to leave it. Now first I will say, that, when I became a Catholic, nothing struck me more at once thanthe English out-spoken manner of the priests. It was the same atOscott, at Old Hall Green, at Ushaw; there was nothing of thatsmoothness, or mannerism, which is commonly imputed to them, and theywere more natural and unaffected than many an Anglican clergyman. Themany years, which have passed since, have only confirmed my firstimpression. I have ever found it in the priests of this Diocese; didI wish to point out a straightforward Englishman, I should instancethe Bishop, who has, to our great benefit, for so many years presidedover it. 

And next, I was struck, when I had more opportunity of judging of thePriests, by the simple faith in the Catholic Creed and system ofwhich they always gave evidence, and which they never seemed to feel, in any sense at all, to be a burden. And now that I have been in theChurch nineteen years, I cannot recollect hearing of a singleinstance in England of an infidel priest. Of course there are menfrom time to time, who leave the Catholic Church for anotherreligion, but I am speaking of cases, when a man keeps a fair outsideto the world and is a hollow hypocrite in his heart. 

I wonder that the self-devotion of our priests does not strikeProtestants in this point of view. What do they gain by professing aCreed, in which, if my assailant is to be believed, they really donot believe? What is their reward for committing themselves to alife of self-restraint and toil, and after all to a premature andmiserable death? The Irish fever cut off between Liverpool and Leedsthirty priests and more, young men in the flower of their days, oldmen who seemed entitled to some quiet time after their long toil. There was a bishop cut off in the North; but what had a man of hisecclesiastical rank to do with the drudgery and danger of sick calls, except that Christian faith and charity constrained him? Priestsvolunteered for the dangerous service. It was the same on the firstcoming of the cholera, that mysterious awe-inspiring infliction. If priests did not heartily believe in the Creed of the Church, then I will say that the remark of the apostle had its fullestillustration:--"If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we areof all men most miserable. " What could support a set of hypocrites inthe presence of a deadly disorder, one of them following another inlong order up the forlorn hope, and one after another perishing? Andsuch, I may say, in its substance, is every mission-priest's life. Heis ever ready to sacrifice himself for his people. Night and day, sick or well himself, in all weathers, off he is, on the news of asick call. The fact of a parishioner dying without the sacramentsthrough his fault is terrible to him; why terrible, if he has not adeep absolute faith, which he acts upon with a free service?Protestants admire this, when they see it; but they do not seem tosee as clearly, that it excludes the very notion of hypocrisy. 

Sometimes, when they reflect upon it, it leads them to remark on thewonderful discipline of the Catholic priesthood; they say that noChurch has so well ordered a clergy, and that in that respect itsurpasses their own; they wish they could have such exact disciplineamong themselves. But is it an excellence which can be purchased? isit a phenomenon which depends on nothing else than itself, or is itan effect which has a cause? You cannot buy devotion at a price. "Ithath never been heard of in the land of Chanaan, neither hath it beenseen in Theman. The children of Agar, the merchants of Meran, noneof these have known its way. " What then is that wonderful charm, which makes a thousand men act all in one way, and infuses a promptobedience to rule, as if they were under some stern militarycompulsion? How difficult to find an answer, unless you will allowthe obvious one, that they believe intensely what they profess!

I cannot think what it can be, in a day like this, which keeps up theprejudice of this Protestant country against us, unless it be thevague charges which are drawn from our books of moral theology; andwith a notice of the work in particular which my accuser especiallythrows in our teeth, I shall in a very few words bring theseobservations to a close. 

St. Alfonso Liguori, it cannot be denied, lays down that anequivocation, that is, a play upon words, in which one sense is takenby the speaker, and another sense intended by him for the hearer, isallowable, if there is a just cause, that is, in a special case, andmay even be confirmed by an oath. I shall give my opinion on thispoint as plainly as any Protestant can wish; and therefore I avow atonce that in this department of morality, much as I admire the highpoints of the Italian character, I like the English character better;but, in saying so, I am not, as will be seen, saying anythingdisrespectful to St. Alfonso, who was a lover of truth, and whoseintercession I trust I shall not lose, though, on the matter underconsideration, I follow other guidance in preference to his. 

Now I make this remark first:--great English authors, Jeremy Taylor, Milton, Paley, Johnson, men of very distinct schools of thought, distinctly say, that under certain special circumstances it isallowable to tell a lie. Taylor says: "To tell a lie for charity, tosave a man's life, the life of a friend, of a husband, of a prince, of a useful and a public person, hath not only been done at alltimes, but commended by great and wise and good men. Who would notsave his father's life, at the charge of a harmless lie, frompersecutors or tyrants?" Again, Milton says: "What man in his senseswould deny, that there are those whom we have the best grounds forconsidering that we ought to deceive--as boys, madmen, the sick, theintoxicated, enemies, men in error, thieves? I would ask, by which ofthe commandments is a lie forbidden? You will say, by the ninth. If then my lie does not injure my neighbour, certainly it is notforbidden by this commandment. " Paley says: "There are falsehoods, which are not lies, that is, which are not criminal. " Johnson: "Thegeneral rule is, that truth should never be violated; there must, however, be some exceptions. If, for instance, a murderer should askyou which way a man is gone. "

Now, I am not using these instances as an _argumentum ad hominem_;but this is the use to which I put them:--

1. First, I have set down the distinct statements of Taylor, Milton, Paley, and Johnson; now, would any one give ever so little weight tothese statements, in forming a real estimate of the veracity of thewriters, if they now were alive? Were a man, who is so fierce withSt. Alfonso, to meet Paley or Johnson tomorrow in society, would helook upon him as a liar, a knave, as dishonest and untrustworthy?I am sure he would not. Why then does he not deal out the samemeasure to Catholic priests? If a copy of Scavini, which speaksof equivocation as being in a just cause allowable, be found ina student's room at Oscott, not Scavini himself, but the unhappystudent, who has what a Protestant calls a bad book in hispossession, is judged for life unworthy of credit. Are all Protestanttext-books at the University immaculate? Is it necessary to take forgospel every word of Aristotle's Ethics, or every assertion of Hey orBurnett on the Articles? Are text-books the ultimate authority, orare they manuals in the hands of a lecturer, and the groundwork ofhis remarks? But, again, let us suppose, not the case of a student, or of a professor, but of Scavini himself, or of St. Alfonso; nowhere again I ask, if you would not scruple in holding Paley for anhonest man, in spite of his defence of lying, why do you scruple atSt. Alfonso? I am perfectly sure that you would not scruple at Paleypersonally; you might not agree with him, but you would call him abold thinker: then why should St. Alfonso's person be odious to you, as well as his doctrine?

Now I wish to tell you why you are not afraid of Paley; because, youwould say, when he advocated lying, he was taking _special cases_. You would have no fear of a man who you knew had shot a burglar deadin his own house, because you know you are _not_ a burglar: so youwould not think that Paley had a habit of telling lies in society, because in the case of a cruel alternative he thought it the lesserevil to tell a lie. Then why do you show such suspicion of aCatholic theologian, who speaks of certain special cases in which anequivocation in a penitent cannot be visited by his confessor as ifit were a sin? for this is the exact point of the question. 

But again, why does Paley, why does Jeremy Taylor, when no practicalmatter is before him, lay down a maxim about the lawfulness of lying, which will startle most readers? The reason is plain. He is forming atheory of morals, and he must treat every question in turn as itcomes. And this is just what St. Alfonso or Scavini is doing. Youonly try your hand yourself at a treatise on the rules of morality, and you will see how difficult the work is. What is the _definition_of a lie? Can you give a better than that it is a sin againstjustice, as Taylor and Paley consider it? but, if so, how can it be asin at all, if your neighbour is not injured? If you do not like thisdefinition, take another; and then, by means of that, perhaps youwill be defending St. Alfonso's equivocation. However, this is what Iinsist upon; that St. Alfonso, as Paley, is considering the differentportions of a large subject, and he must, on the subject of lying, give his judgment, though on that subject it is difficult to form anyjudgment which is satisfactory. 

But further still: you must not suppose that a philosopher ormoralist uses in his own case the licence which his theory itselfwould allow him. A man in his own person is guided by his ownconscience; but in drawing out a system of rules he is obliged togo by logic, and follow the exact deduction of conclusion fromconclusion, and be sure that the whole system is coherent and one. You hear of even immoral or irreligious books being written by men ofdecent character; there is a late writer who says that David Hume'ssceptical works are not at all the picture of the man. A priest maywrite a treatise which would be called really lax on the subject oflying, which might come under the condemnation of the holy see, assome treatises on that score have been condemned, and yet in hisown person be a rigorist. And, in fact, it is notorious from St. Alfonso's Life, that he, who has the repute of being so lax amoralist, had one of the most scrupulous and anxious of conscienceshimself. Nay, further than this, he was originally in the Law, and onone occasion he was betrayed into the commission of what seemed likea deceit, though it was an accident; and that was the very occasionof his leaving the profession and embracing the religious life. 

The account of this remarkable occurrence is told us in his Life:--

"Notwithstanding he had carefully examined over and over the detailsof the process, he was completely mistaken regarding the sense of onedocument, which constituted the right of the adverse party. Theadvocate of the Grand Duke perceived the mistake, but he allowedAlfonso to continue his eloquent address to the end withoutinterruption; as soon, however, as he had finished, he rose, and saidwith cutting coolness, 'Sir, the case is not exactly what you supposeit to be; if you will review the process, and examine this paperattentively, you will find there precisely the contrary of all youhave advanced. ' 'Willingly, ' replied Alfonso, without hesitating;'the decision depends on this question--whether the fief were grantedunder the law of Lombardy, or under the French Law. ' The paper beingexamined, it was found that the Grand Duke's advocate was in theright. 'Yes, ' said Alfonso, holding the paper in his hand, 'I amwrong, I have been mistaken. ' A discovery so unexpected, and the fearof being accused of unfair dealing, filled him with consternation, and covered him with confusion, so much so, that every one saw hisemotion. It was in vain that the President Caravita, who loved him, and knew his integrity, tried to console him, by telling him thatsuch mistakes were not uncommon, even among the first men at the bar. Alfonso would listen to nothing, but, overwhelmed with confusion, hishead sunk on his breast, he said to himself, 'World, I know you now;courts of law, never shall you see me again!' And turning his back onthe assembly, he withdrew to his own house, incessantly repeating tohimself, 'World, I know you now. ' What annoyed him most was, thathaving studied and re-studied the process during a whole month, without having discovered this important flaw, he could notunderstand how it had escaped his observation. "

And this is the man who is so flippantly pronounced to be a patron oflying. 

But, in truth, a Catholic theologian has objects in view which men ingeneral little compass; he is not thinking of himself, but of amultitude of souls, sick souls, sinful souls, carried away by sin, full of evil, and he is trying with all his might to rescue them fromtheir miserable state; and, in order to save them from more heinoussins, he tries, to the full extent that his conscience will allowhim to go, to shut his eyes to such sins, as are, though sins, yetlighter in character or degree. He knows perfectly well that, if heis as strict as he would wish to be, he shall be able to do nothingat all with the run of men; so he is as indulgent with them as everhe can be. Let it not be for an instant supposed, that I allow of themaxim of doing evil that good may come; but, keeping clear of this, there is a way of winning men from greater sins by winking for thetime at the less, or at mere improprieties or faults; and this is thekey to the difficulty which Catholic books of moral theology so oftencause to the Protestant. They are intended for the confessor, andProtestants view them as intended for the preacher. 

2. And I observe upon Taylor, Milton, and Paley thus: What would aProtestant clergyman say to me, if I accused him of teaching that alie was allowable; and if, when he asked for my proof, I said inreply that Taylor and Milton so taught? Why, he would sharply retort, "_I_ am not bound by Taylor or Milton;" and if I went on urging that"Taylor was one of his authorities, " he would answer that Taylor wasa great writer, but great writers were not therefore infallible. Thisis pretty much the answer which I make, when I am considered in thismatter a disciple of St. Alfonso. 

I plainly and positively state, and without any reserve, that I donot at all follow this holy and charitable man in this portion of histeaching. There are various schools of opinion allowed in the Church:and on this point I follow others. I follow Cardinal Gerdil, andNatalis Alexander, nay, St. Augustine. I will quote one passage fromNatalis Alexander:--"They certainly lie, who utter the words of anoath, without the will to swear or bind themselves: or who make useof mental reservations and _equivocations_ in swearing, since theysignify by words what they have not in mind, contrary to the end forwhich language was instituted, viz. As signs of ideas. Or they meansomething else than the words signify in themselves and the commoncustom of speech. " And, to take an instance: I do not believe anypriest in England would dream of saying, "My friend is not here;"meaning, "He is not in my pocket or under my shoe. " Nor should anyconsideration make me say so myself. I do not think St. Alfonso wouldin his own case have said so; and he would have been as much shockedat Taylor and Paley, as Protestants are at him. 

And now, if Protestants wish to know what our real teaching is, as onother subjects, so on that of lying, let them look, not at our booksof casuistry, but at our catechisms. Works on pathology do not givethe best insight into the form and the harmony of the human frame;and, as it is with the body, so is it with the mind. The Catechismof the Council of Trent was drawn up for the express purpose ofproviding preachers with subjects for their sermons; and, as my wholework has been a defence of myself, I may here say that I rarelypreach a sermon, but I go to this beautiful and complete Catechism toget both my matter and my doctrine. There we find the followingnotices about the duty of veracity:--

"'Thou shalt not bear false witness, ' etc. : let attention be drawn totwo laws contained in this commandment:--the one, forbidding falsewitness; the other bidding, that removing all pretence and deceits, we should measure our words and deeds by simple truth, as the Apostleadmonished the Ephesians of that duty in these words: 'Doing truth incharity, let us grow in Him through all things. '

"To deceive by a lie in joke or for the sake of compliment, though tono one there accrues loss or gain in consequence, nevertheless isaltogether unworthy: for thus the Apostle admonishes, 'Putting asidelying, speak ye truth. ' For therein is great danger of lapsing intofrequent and more serious lying, and from lies in joke men gain thehabit of lying, whence they gain the character of not being truthful. And thence again, in order to gain credit to their words, they findit necessary to make a practice of swearing. 

"Nothing is more necessary than truth of testimony, in those things, which we neither know ourselves, nor can allowably be ignorant of, on which point there is extant that maxim of St. Augustine's; Whosoconceals the truth, and whoso puts forth a lie, each is guilty; theone because he is not willing to do a service, the other because hehas a wish to do a mischief. 

"It is lawful at times to be silent about the truth, but out of acourt of law; for in court, when a witness is interrogated by thejudge according to law, the truth is wholly to be brought out. 

"Witnesses, however, must beware, lest, from over-confidence in theirmemory, they affirm for certain, what they have not verified. 

"In order that the faithful may with more good will avoid the sin oflying, the Parish Priest shall set before them the extreme misery andturpitude of this wickedness. For, in holy writ, the devil is calledthe father of a lie; for, in that he did not remain in Truth, he is aliar, and the father of a lie. He will add, with the view of riddingmen of so great a crime, the evils which follow upon lying; and, whereas they are innumerable, he will point out [at least] thesources and the general heads of these mischiefs and calamities, viz. 1. How great is God's displeasure and how great His hatred of a manwho is insincere and a liar. 2. What security there is that a manwho is specially hated by God may not be visited by the heaviestpunishments. 3. What more unclean and foul, as St. James says, than. .. That a fountain by the same jet should send out sweet water andbitter? 4. For that tongue, which just now praised God, next, as faras in it lies, dishonours Him by lying. 5. In consequence, liars areshut out from the possession of heavenly beatitude. 6. That too isthe worst evil of lying, that that disease of the mind is generallyincurable. 

"Moreover, there is this harm too, and one of vast extent, andtouching men generally, that by insincerity and lying faith and truthare lost, which are the firmest bonds of human society, and, whenthey are lost, supreme confusion follows in life, so that men seem innothing to differ from devils. 

"Lastly, the Parish Priest will set those right who excuse theirinsincerity and allege the example of wise men, who, they say, areused to lie for an occasion. He will tell them, what is most true, that the wisdom of the flesh is death. He will exhort his hearers totrust in God, when they are in difficulties and straits, nor to haverecourse to the expedient of a lie. 

"They who throw the blame of their own lie on those who have alreadyby a lie deceived them, are to be taught that men must not revengethemselves, nor make up for one evil by another. " . .. 

There is much more in the Catechism to the same effect, and it is ofuniversal obligation; whereas the decision of a particular author inmorals need not be accepted by any one. 

To one other authority I appeal on this subject, which commands fromme attention of a special kind, for they are the words of a Father. They will serve to bring my work to a conclusion. 

"St. Philip, " says the Roman oratorian who wrote his Life, "had aparticular dislike of affectation both in himself and others, inspeaking, in dressing, or in anything else. 

"He avoided all ceremony which savoured of worldly compliment, andalways showed himself a great stickler for Christian simplicity ineverything; so that, when he had to deal with men of worldlyprudence, he did not very readily accommodate himself to them. 

"And he avoided, as much as possible, having anything to do with_two-faced persons_, who did not go simply and straightforwardly towork in their transactions. 

"_As for liars, he could not endure them_, and he was _continuallyreminding_ his spiritual children, _to avoid them as they would apestilence_. "

These are the principles on which I have acted before I was aCatholic; these are the principles which, I trust, will be my stayand guidance to the end. 

I have closed this history of myself with St. Philip's name upon St. Philip's feast-day; and, having done so, to whom can I more suitablyoffer it, as a memorial of affection and gratitude, than to St. Philip's sons, my dearest brothers of this house, the priests of theBirmingham Oratory, Ambrose St. John, Henry Austin Mills, HenryBittleston, Edward Caswall, William Paine Neville, and Henry IgnatiusDudley Ryder? who have been so faithful to me; who have been sosensitive of my needs; who have been so indulgent to my failings; whohave carried me through so many trials; who have grudged nosacrifice, if I asked for it; who have been so cheerful underdiscouragements of my causing; who have done so many good works, andlet me have the credit of them;--with whom I have lived so long, withwhom I hope to die. 

And to you especially, dear Ambrose St. John; whom God gave me, whenHe took every one else away; who are the link between my old life andmy new; who have now for twenty-one years been so devoted to me, sopatient, so zealous, so tender; who have let me lean so hard uponyou; who have watched me so narrowly; who have never thought ofyourself, if I was in question. 

And in you I gather up and bear in memory those familiar affectionatecompanions and counsellors, who in Oxford were given to me, one afteranother, to be my daily solace and relief; and all those others, ofgreat name and high example, who were my thorough friends, and showedme true attachment in times long past; and also those many youngermen, whether I knew them or not, who have never been disloyal to meby word or by deed; and of all these, thus various in their relationsto me, those more especially who have since joined the CatholicChurch. 

And I earnestly pray for this whole company, with a hope againsthope, that all of us, who once were so united, and so happy in ourunion, may even now be brought at length, by the Power of the DivineWill, into One Fold and under One Shepherd. 

May 26, 1864. 

In Festo Corp. Christ. 

Appendix

Answer in Detail to Mr. Kingsley's Accusations

In proceeding now, according to the engagement with which I enteredupon my undertaking, to examine in detail the Pamphlet which has beenwritten against me, I am very sorry to be obliged to say, that it isas slovenly and random and futile in its definite charges, as it isiniquitous in its method of disputation. And now I proceed to showthis without any delay; and shall consider in order, 1. My Sermon on the Apostolical Christian. 2. My Sermon on Wisdom and Innocence. 3. The Anglican Church. 4. The Lives of the English Saints. 5. Ecclesiastical miracles. 6. Popular Religion. 7. The Economy. 8. Lying and Equivocation. 

1. My Sermon on "The Apostolical Christian, " being the 19th of"Sermons on Subjects of the Day"

This writer says, "What Dr. Newman means by Christians . .. He hasnot left in doubt;" and then, quoting a passage from this sermonwhich speaks of "the humble monk and the holy nun" being "Christiansafter the very pattern given us in Scripture, " he observes, "This ishis _definition_ of Christians. "--p. 9. 

This is not the case. I have neither given a definition, nor impliedone, nor intended one; nor could I, either now or in 1843-4, orat any time, allow of the particular definition he ascribes to me. Asif all Christians must be monks or nuns!

What I have said is, that monks and nuns are patterns of Christianperfection; and that Scripture itself supplies us with this pattern. Who can deny this? Who is bold enough to say that St. John Baptist, who, I suppose, is a Scripture character, is not a pattern-monk; andthat Mary, who "sat at our Lord's feet, " was not a pattern-nun? and"Anna too, who served God with fastings and prayers night and day?"Again, what is meant but this by St. Paul's saying, "It is good for aman not to touch a woman?" and, when speaking of the father orguardian of a young girl, "He that giveth her in marriage doeth well;but he that giveth her not in marriage doeth better?" And what doesSt. John mean but to praise virginity, when he says of the hundredforty and four thousand on Mount Sion, "These are they which were notdefiled with women, for they are virgins?" And what else did our Lordmean, when He said, "There be eunuchs who have made themselveseunuchs for the kingdom of heaven's sake. He that is able to receiveit, let him receive it?"

He ought to know his logic better: I have said that "monks and nunsfind their pattern in Scripture:" he adds, _Therefore_ I hold allChristians are monks and nuns. 

This is Blot _one_. 

Now then for Blot _two_. 

"Monks and nuns the _only_ perfect Christians . .. What more?"--p. 9. 

A second fault in logic. I said no more than that monks and nuns wereperfect Christians: he adds, _Therefore_ "monks and nuns are the_only_ perfect Christians. " Monks and nuns are _not_ the only perfectChristians; I never thought so or said so, now or at any other time. 

P. 42. "In the Sermon . .. Monks and nuns are spoken of as the _onlytrue_ Bible Christians. " This, again, is not the case. What I saidis, that "monks and nuns are Bible Christians:" it does not follow, nor did I mean, that "all Bible Christians are monks and nuns. " Badlogic again. Blot _three_. 

2. My Sermon on "Wisdom and Innocence", Being the 20th of"Sermons on Subjects of the Day"

This writer says, p. 8, about my Sermon 20, "By the world appears tobe signified, especially, the Protestant public of these realms. "

He also asks, p. 14, "Why was it preached? . .. To insinuate, that theadmiring young gentlemen, who listened to him, stood to theirfellow-countrymen in the relation of the early Christians to theheathen Romans? Or that Queen Victoria's Government was to the Churchof England, what Nero's or Dioclesian's was to the Church of Rome? itmay have been so. "

May or may not, it wasn't. He insinuates what not even with hislittle finger does he attempt to prove. Blot _four_. 

He asserts, p. 9, that I said in the sermon in question, that"Sacramental Confession and the celibacy of the clergy are 'notes' ofthe Church. " And, just before, he puts the word "notes" in invertedcommas, as if it was mine. That is, he garbles. It is _not_ mine. Blot _five_. 

He says that I "_define_ what I mean by the Church in two 'notes' ofher character. " I do not define, or dream of defining. 

1. He says that I teach that the celibacy of the clergy enters intothe _definition_ of the Church. I do no such thing; that is the blunttruth. Define the Church by the celibacy of the clergy! why, let himread 1 Tim. Iii. ; there he will find that bishops and deacons arespoken of as married. How, then, could I be the dolt to say or implythat the celibacy of the clergy was a part of the definition of theChurch? Blot _six_. 

And again in p. 42, "In the Sermon a celibate clergy is made a noteof the Church. " Thus the untruth is repeated. Blot _seven_. 

2. And now for Blot _eight_. Neither did I say that "Sacramentalconfession" was "a note of the Church. " Nor is it. Nor could I withany cogency have brought this as an argument against the Church ofEngland, for the Church of England has retained Confession, nay, Sacramental Confession. No fair man can read the form of Absolutionin the Anglican Prayer in the Visitation of the Sick, without seeingthat that Church _does_ sanction and provide for Confession andAbsolution. If that form does not contain the profession of a gravesacramental act, words have no meaning. The form is almost in thewords of the Roman form; and, by the time that this clergyman hassucceeded in explaining it away, he will have also got skill enoughto explain away the Roman form; and if he did but handle my wordswith that latitude with which he interprets his own formularies, hewould prove that, instead of my being superstitious and frantic, Iwas the most Protestant of preachers and the most latitudinarian ofthinkers. It would be charity in him, in his reading of my words, touse some of that power of evasion, of which he shows himself such amaster in his dealing with his own Prayer Book. Yet he has theassurance at p. 14 to ask, "Why was the Sermon preached? to insinuatethat a Church which had sacramental confession and a celibate clergywas the only true Church?"

"Why?" I will tell the reader, _why_; and with this view will speak, first of the contents of the Sermon, then of its subject, then of itscircumstances. 

1. It was one of the last six sermons which I wrote when I was anAnglican. It was one of the five sermons I preached in St. Mary'sbetween Christmas and Easter, 1843, the year when I gave up myliving. The MS. Of the sermon is destroyed; but I believe, and mymemory too bears me out, as far as it goes, that the sentence inquestion about celibacy and confession _was not preached at all_. Thevolume, in which this sermon is found, was published _after_ that Ihad given up St. Mary's, when I had no call on me to restrain theexpression of anything which I might hold: and I state an importantfact about it in the advertisement, which this truth-loving writer_suppresses_. Blot _nine_. 

My words, which stared him in the face, are as follows:--"Inpreparing [these Sermons] for publication, _a few words andsentences_ have in several places been _added_, which will be foundto express more _of private or personal opinion_, than it wasexpedient to introduce into the _instruction_ delivered in Church toa parochial Congregation. Such introduction, however, seemsunobjectionable in the case of compositions, which are _detached_from the sacred place and service to which they once belonged, and_submitted to the reason_ and judgment of the general reader. "

This volume of sermons then cannot be criticised at all as_preachments_; they are _essays_; essays of a man who, at the time ofpublishing them, was _not_ a preacher. Such passages, as that inquestion, are just the very ones which I added _upon_ my publishingthem. I always was on my guard in the pulpit of saying anything whichlooked towards Rome; and therefore all his rhetoric about my"disciples, " "admiring young gentlemen who listened to me, " "fanaticand hot-headed young men, who hung upon my every word, " becomessimple rubbish. 

I have more to say on this point. This writer says, p. 14, "I knowthat men used to suspect Dr. Newman--I have been inclined to do somyself--of _writing a whole Sermon, not for the sake of the text orof the matter_, but for the sake of one simple passing hint--onephrase, one epithet. " Can there be a plainer testimony borne to thepractical character of my sermons at St. Mary's than this gratuitousinsinuation? Many a preacher of Tractarian doctrine has been accusedof not letting his parishioners alone, and of teasing them with hisprivate theological notions. You would gather from the general toneof this writer that that was my way. Every one who was in the habitof hearing me, knows that it wasn't. This writer either knows nothingabout it, and then he ought to be silent; or he does know, and thenhe ought to speak the truth. Others spread the same report twentyyears ago as he does now, and the world believed that my sermons atSt. Mary's were full of red-hot Tractarianism. Then strangers came tohear me preach, and were astonished at their own disappointment. Irecollect the wife of a great prelate from a distance coming to hearme, and then expressing her surprise to find that I preached nothingbut a plain humdrum sermon. I recollect how, when on the Sundaybefore Commemoration one year, a number of strangers came to hearme, and I preached in my usual way, residents in Oxford, of highposition, were loud in their satisfaction that on a great occasion, Ihad made a simple failure, for after all there was nothing in thesermon to hear. Well, but they were not going to let me off, for allmy common-sense view of duty. Accordingly, they got up the charitabletheory which this writer revives. They said that there was a doublepurpose in those plain addresses of mine, and that my sermons werenever so artful as when they seemed common-place; that there weresentences which redeemed their apparent simplicity and quietness. Sothey watched during the delivery of a sermon, which to them was toopractical to be useful, for the concealed point of it, which theycould at least imagine, if they could not discover. "Men used tosuspect Dr. Newman, " he says, "of writing a _whole_ Sermon, _not_ forthe sake of _the text or of the matter_, but for the sake of . .. _one_ phrase, _one_ epithet, _one_ little barbed arrow, which, as he_swept magnificently_ past on the stream of his calm eloquence, _seemingly_ unconscious of all presences, save those unseen, hedelivered unheeded, " etc. P. 14. To all appearance, he says, I was"unconscious of all presences;" so this kind writer supplies the trueinterpretation of this unconsciousness. He is not able to deny that"the _whole_ Sermon" had the _appearance_ of being "_for the sake_ ofthe text and matter;" therefore he suggests that perhaps it wasn't. And then he emptily talks of the "magnificent sweep of my eloquence, "and my "oratoric power. " Did he forget that the sermon of which hethus speaks can be read by others as well as him? Now, the sentencesare as short as Aristotle's, and as grave as Bishop Butler's. It iswritten almost in the condensed style of Tract 90. Eloquence there isnone. I put this down as Blot _ten_. 

2. And now as to the subject of the sermon. The series of which thevolume consists are such sermons as are, more or less, exceptions tothe rule which I ordinarily observed, as to the subjects which Iintroduced into the pulpit of St. Mary's. They are not purely ethicalor doctrinal. They were for the most part caused by circumstances ofthe day or of the time, and they belong to various years. One waswritten in 1832, two in 1836, two in 1838, five in 1840, five in1841, four in 1842, seven in 1843. Many of them are engaged on onesubject, viz. In viewing the Church in its relation to the world. Bythe world was meant, not simply those multitudes which were not inthe Church, but the existing body of human society, whether in theChurch or not, whether Catholics, Protestants, Greeks, or Mahometans, theists or idolaters, as being ruled by principles, maxims, andinstincts of their own, that is, of an unregenerate nature, whatevertheir supernatural privileges might be, greater or less, according totheir form of religion. This view of the relation of the Church tothe world as taken apart from questions of ecclesiastical politics, as they may be called, is often brought out in my sermons. Two occurto me at once; No. 3 of my Plain Sermons, which was written in 1829, and No. 15 of my third volume, written in 1835. Then, on the otherhand, by Church I meant--in common with all writers connected withthe Tract Movement, whatever their shades of opinion, and withthe whole body of English divines, except those of the Puritan orEvangelical School--the whole of Christendom, from the apostles' timetill now, whatever their later divisions into Latin, Greek, andAnglican. I have explained this view of the subject above at pp. 83-85 of this Volume. When then I speak, in the particular sermonbefore us, of the members, or the rulers, or the action of "theChurch, " I mean neither the Latin, nor the Greek, nor the English, taken by itself, but of the whole Church as one body: of Italy as onewith England, of the Saxon or Norman as one with the Caroline Church. _This_ was specially the one Church, and the points in which onebranch or one period differed from another were not and could not benotes of the Church, because notes necessarily belonged to the wholeof the Church everywhere and always. 

This being my doctrine as to the relation of the Church to the world, I laid down in the sermon three principles concerning it, and thereleft the matter. The first is, that Divine Wisdom had framed for itsaction, laws which man, if left to himself, would have antecedentlypronounced to be the worst possible for its success, and which in allages have been called by the world, as they were in the apostles'days, "foolishness;" that man ever relies on physical and materialforce, and on carnal inducements--as Mahomet with his sword and hishouris, or indeed almost as that theory of religion, called, sincethe sermon was written, "muscular Christianity;" but that ourLord, on the contrary, has substituted meekness for haughtiness, passiveness for violence, and innocence for craft: and that the eventhas shown the high wisdom of such an economy, for it has brought tolight a set of natural laws, unknown before, by which the seemingparadox that weakness should be stronger than might, and simplicitythan worldly policy, is readily explained. 

Secondly, I said that men of the world, judging by the event, and notrecognizing the secret causes of the success, viz. A higher order ofnatural laws--natural, though their source and action weresupernatural, (for "the meek inherit the earth, " by means of ameekness which comes from above)--these men, I say, concluded, thatthe success which they witnessed must arise from some evil secretwhich the world had not mastered--by means of magic, as they said inthe first ages, by cunning as they say now. And accordingly theythought that the humility and inoffensiveness of Christians, or ofChurchmen, was a mere pretence and blind to cover the real causes ofthat success, which Christians could explain and would not; and thatthey were simply hypocrites. 

Thirdly, I suggested that shrewd ecclesiastics, who knew very wellthat there was neither magic nor craft in the matter, and, from theirintimate acquaintance with what actually went on within the Church, discerned what were the real causes of its success, were of courseunder the temptation of substituting reason for conscience, and, instead of simply obeying the command, were led to do good that goodmight come, that is, to act _in order_ to their success, and not froma motive of faith. Some, I said, did yield to the temptation more orless, and their motives became mixed; and in this way the world in amore subtle shape has got into the Church; and hence it has come topass, that, looking at its history from first to last, we cannotpossibly draw the line between good and evil there, and say eitherthat everything is to be defended, or some things to be condemned. Iexpressed the difficulty, which I supposed to be inherent in theChurch, in the following words. I said, "_Priestcraft has ever beenconsidered the badge_, and its imputation is a kind of Note of theChurch; and _in part indeed truly_, because the presence of powerfulenemies, and the sense of their own weakness, _has sometimes temptedChristians to the abuse, instead of the use of Christian wisdom, tobe wise without being harmless_; but partly, nay, for the most part, not truly, but slanderously, and merely because the world calledtheir wisdom craft, when it was found to be a match for its ownnumbers and power. " This passage he has partly garbled, partlyomitted. Blot _eleven_. 

Such is the substance of the sermon: and as to the main drift of it, it was this; that I was, there and elsewhere, scrutinising the courseof the Church as a whole, as if philosophically, as an historicalphenomenon, and observing the laws on which it was conducted. Hencethe sermon, or essay as it more truly is, is written in a dry andunimpassioned way: it shows as little of human warmth of feeling, Irepeat, as a sermon of Bishop Butler's. Yet, under that calm exteriorthere was a deep and keen sensitiveness, as I shall now proceed toshow. 

3. If I mistake not, it was written with a secret thought aboutmyself. Every one preaches according to his frame of mind, at thetime of preaching. One heaviness especially oppressed me at thatseason, which this writer, twenty years afterwards, has set himselfwith a good will to renew: it arose from the sense of the basecalumnies which were thrown upon me on all sides. In this trouble ofmind I gained, while I reviewed the history of the Church, at once anargument and a consolation. My argument was this: if I, who knew myown innocence, was so blackened by party prejudice, perhaps thosehigh rulers and those servants of the Church, in the many ages whichintervened between the early Nicene times and the present, who wereladen with such grievous accusations, were innocent also; and thisreflection served to make me tender towards those great names of thepast, to whom weaknesses or crimes were imputed, and reconciled me todifficulties in ecclesiastical proceedings, which there were no meansnow of properly explaining. And the sympathy thus excited for them, reacted on myself, and I found comfort in being able to put myselfunder the shadow of those who had suffered as I was suffering, andwho seemed to promise me their recompense, since I had a fellowshipin their trial. In a letter to my bishop at the time of Tract 90, part of which I have quoted, I said that I had ever tried to "keepinnocency;" and now two years had passed since then, and men werelouder and louder in heaping on me the very charges, which thiswriter repeats out of my sermon, of "fraud and cunning, " "craftinessand deceitfulness, " "double-dealing, " "priestcraft, " of being"mysterious, dark, subtle, designing, " when I was all the timeconscious to myself, in my degree, and after my measure, of"sobriety, self-restraint, and control of word and feeling. " I hadhad experience how my past success had been imputed to "secretmanagement;" and how, when I had shown surprise at that success, thatsurprise again was imputed to "deceit;" and how my honest heartfeltsubmission to authority had been called, as it was called in acolonial bishop's charge, "mystic humility;" and how my silence wascalled an "hypocrisy;" and my faithfulness to my clerical engagementsa secret correspondence with the enemy. And I found a way ofdestroying my sensitiveness about these things which jarred upon mysense of justice, and otherwise would have been too much for me, bythe contemplation of a large law of the Divine Dispensation, andfound myself more and more able to bear in my own person a presenttrial, of which in my past writings I had expressed an anticipation. 

For thus feeling and thus speaking this writer has the charitablenessand the decency to call me "Mawworm. " "I found him tellingChristians, " he says, "that they will always seem 'artificial, ' and'wanting in openness and manliness;' that they will always be 'amystery' to the world; and that the world will always think themrogues; and bidding them glory in what the world (that is, the restof their fellow-countrymen) disown, and say with Mawworm, 'I like tobe despised. ' . .. How was I to know that the preacher . .. Was utterlyblind to the broad meaning and the plain practical result of a sermonlike this delivered before fanatic and hot-headed young men, who hungupon his every word?"--p. 17. Hot-headed young men! why, man, you arewriting a romance. You think the scene is Alexandria or the Spanishmain, where you may let your imagination play revel to the extent ofinveracity. It is good luck for me that the scene of my labours wasnot at Moscow or Damascus. Then I might be one of your ecclesiasticalsaints, of which I sometimes hear in conversation, but with whom, Iam glad to say, I have no personal acquaintance. Then you mightascribe to me a more deadly craft than mere quibbling and lying; inSpain I should have been an Inquisitor, with my rack in thebackground; I should have had a concealed dagger in Sicily; at VeniceI should have brewed poison; in Turkey I should have been theSheik-el-Islam with my bowstring; in Khorassan I should have been aveiled prophet. "Fanatic young men!" Why he is writing out the listof a _dramatis Personæ_; "guards, conspirators, populace, " and thelike. He thinks I was ever moving about with a train of Capulets atmy heels. "Hot-headed fanatics, who hung on my every word!" If he hadtaken to write a history, and not a play, he would have easily foundout, as I have said, that from 1841 I had severed myself from theyounger generation of Oxford, that Dr. Pusey and I had then closedour theological meetings at his house, that I had brought my ownweekly evening parties to an end, that I preached only by fits andstarts at St. Mary's, so that the attendance of young men was brokenup, that in those very weeks from Christmas till over Easter, duringwhich this sermon was preached, I was but five times in the pulpitthere. He would have known that it was written at a time when I wasshunned rather than sought, when I had great sacrifices inanticipation, when I was thinking much of myself; that I wasruthlessly tearing myself away from my own followers, and that, inthe musings of that sermon, I was at the very utmost only deliveringa testimony in my behalf for time to come, not sowing my rhetoricbroadcast for the chance of present sympathy. Blot _twelve_. 

I proceed: he says at p. 15, "I found him actually using of such[prelates], (and, as I thought, of himself and his party likewise), the words 'They yield outwardly; to assent inwardly were to betraythe faith. Yet they are called deceitful and double-dealing, becausethey do as much as they can, not more than they may. '" This too is aproof of my duplicity! Let this writer go with some one else, just alittle further than he has gone with me; and let him get into a courtof law for libel; and let him be convicted; and let him still fancythat his libel, though a libel, was true, and let us then see whetherhe will not in such a case "yield outwardly, " without assentinginternally; and then again whether we should please him, if we calledhim "deceitful and double-dealing, " because "he did as much as hecould, not more than he ought to do. " But Tract 90 will supply a realillustration of what I meant. I yielded to the bishops in outwardact, viz. In not defending the Tract, and in closing the series; but, not only did I not assent inwardly to any condemnation of it, but Iopposed myself to the proposition of a condemnation on the part ofauthority. Yet I was then by the public called "deceitful anddouble-dealing, " as this writer calls me now, "because I did as muchas I felt I could do, and not more than I felt I could honestly do. "Many were the publications of the day and the private letters whichaccused me of shuffling, because I closed the series of tracts, yetkept the tracts on sale, as if I ought to comply not only with whatmy bishop asked, but with what he did not ask, and perhaps did notwish. However, such teaching, according to this writer, was likely tomake young men suspect that truth was not a virtue for its own sake, but only for the sake of "the spread of Catholic opinions, " and the"salvation of their own souls;" and that "cunning was the weaponwhich heaven had allowed to them to defend themselves against thepersecuting Protestant public. "--p. 16. Blot _thirteen_. 

And now I draw attention to another point. He says at p. 15, "How wasI to know that the preacher . .. Did not foresee, that [fanatic andhot-headed young men] would think that they obeyed him, by becomingaffected, artificial, sly, shifty, ready for concealments and_equivocations?_" "How should he know!" What! I suppose that we areto think every man a knave till he is proved not to be such. Know!had he no friend to tell him whether I was "affected" or "artificial"myself? Could he not have done better than impute _equivocation_ tome, at a time when I was in no sense answerable for the_amphibologia_ of the Roman casuists? Has he a single fact whichbelongs to me personally or by profession to couple my name withequivocation in 1843? "How should he know" that I was not sly, smooth, artificial, non-natural! he should know by that common manlyfrankness, if he had it, by which we put confidence in others, tillthey are proved to have forfeited it; he should know it by my ownwords in that very sermon, in which I say it is best to be natural, and that reserve is at best but an unpleasant necessity. I say, "I donot deny that there is something very engaging in a frank andunpretending manner; some persons have it more than others; in _somepersons it is a great grace_. But it must be recollected that I amspeaking of _times of persecution and oppression_ to Christians, suchas the text foretells; and then surely frankness will become nothingelse than indignation at the oppressor, and vehement speech, if it ispermitted. Accordingly, as persons have deep _feelings_, so they willfind the necessity of self-control, lest they should say what theyought not. " He omits these words. I call, then, this base insinuationthat I taught equivocation, Blot the _fourteenth_. 

Lastly, he sums up thus: "If [Dr. Newman] would . .. Persist (as inthis Sermon) in dealing with matters dark, offensive, doubtful, sometimes actually forbidden, at least according to the notions ofthe great majority of English Churchmen; if he would always do so ina tentative, paltering way, seldom or never letting the world knowhow much he believed, how far he intended to go; if, in a word, hismethod of teaching was a suspicious one, what wonder if the minds ofmen were filled with suspicions of him?"--p. 17. 

Now first he is speaking of my sermons; where, then, is his proofthat in my sermons I dealt in matters dark, offensive, doubtful, actually forbidden? he has said nothing in proof that I have not beenable flatly to deny. 

"Forbidden according to the notions of the great majority of EnglishChurchmen. " I should like to know what opinions, beyond those whichrelate to the Creed, _are_ held by the "majority of EnglishChurchmen:"--are his own? is it not perfectly well known, that "thegreat majority" think of him and his views with a feeling which Iwill not describe, because it is not necessary for my argument? Sofar is certain, that he has not the majority with him. 

"In a tentative, paltering way. " The word "paltering" I reject, asvague; as to "tentative, " he must show that I was tentative in mysermons; and he has eight volumes to look through. As to the ninth, my University sermons, of course I was "tentative;" but not because"I would seldom or never let the world know how much I believed, orhow far I intended to go;" but because in deep subjects, which hadnot been fully investigated, I said as much as I believed, and aboutas far as I saw I could go; and a man cannot do more; and I accountno man to be a philosopher who attempts to do more. How long am I tohave the office of merely negativing assertions which are butsupported by former assertions, in which John is ever helping Tom, and the elephant stands upon the tortoise? This is Blot_fifteen_. 

3. The Anglican Church

This writer says:--"If there is, as there is, a strong distrust ofcertain Catholics, it is restricted to the proselytizing priestsamong them; and especially to those, who, like Dr. Newman, haveturned round upon their mother Church (I had almost said their mothercountry), with contumely and slander. "--p. 18. 

No one has a right to make a charge, without at least an attempt toprove what he says; but this writer is consistent with himself. Fromthe time that he first spoke of me in the magazine, _when_ has heever even professed to give evidence of any sort for any one of hischarges, from his own sense of propriety, and without beingchallenged on the point? After the sentence which I have beenquoting, and another like it, he coolly passes on to Tract 90! Blot_sixteen_; but I shall dwell on it awhile, for its own sake. 

Now I have been bringing out my mind in this volume on every subjectwhich has come before me; and therefore I am bound to state plainlywhat I feel and have felt, since I was a Catholic, about the AnglicanChurch. I said, in a former page, that, on my conversion, I was notconscious of any change in me of thought or feeling, as regardsmatters of doctrine; this, however, was not the case as regards somematters of fact, and, unwilling as I am to give offence to religiousAnglicans, I am bound to confess that I felt a great change in myview of the Church of England. I cannot tell how soon there came onme--but very soon--an extreme astonishment that I had ever imaginedit to be a portion of the Catholic Church. For the first time, Ilooked at it from without, and (as I should myself say) saw it as itwas. Forthwith I could not get myself to see in it anything else, than what I had so long fearfully suspected, from as far back as1836--a mere national institution. As if my eyes were suddenlyopened, so I saw it--spontaneously, apart from any definite act ofreason or any argument; and so I have seen it ever since. I suppose, the main cause of this lay in the contrast which was presented to meby the Catholic Church. Then I recognised at once a reality which wasquite a new thing with me. Then I was sensible that I was not makingfor myself a Church by an effort of thought; I needed not to makean act of faith in her; I had not painfully to force myself into aposition, but my mind fell back upon itself in relaxation and inpeace, and I gazed at her almost passively as a great objective fact. I looked at her;--at her rites, her ceremonial, and her precepts; andI said, "This _is_ a religion;" and then, when I looked back upon thepoor Anglican Church, for which I had laboured so hard, and upon allthat appertained to it, and thought of our various attempts to dressit up doctrinally and esthetically, it seemed to me to be the veriestof nonentities. Vanity of vanities, all is vanity! How can I make arecord of what passed within me, without seeming to be satirical? ButI speak plain, serious words. As people call me credulous foracknowledging Catholic claims, so they call me satirical fordisowning Anglican pretensions; to them it _is_ credulity, to them it_is_ satire; but it is not so in me. What they think exaggeration, Ithink truth. I am not speaking of the Anglican Church in any disdain, though to them I seem contemptuous. To them of course it is "AutCæsar aut nullus, " but not to me. It may be a great creation, thoughit be not divine, and this is how I judge of it. Men, who abjure thedivine right of kings, would be very indignant, if on that accountthey were considered disloyal. And so I recognise in the AnglicanChurch a time-honoured institution, of noble historical memories, amonument of ancient wisdom, a momentous arm of political strength, agreat national organ, a source of vast popular advantage, and, to acertain point, a witness and teacher of religious truth. I do notthink that, if what I have written about it since I have been aCatholic, be equitably considered as a whole, I shall be found tohave taken any other view than this; but that it is something sacred, that it is an oracle of revealed doctrine, that it can claim a sharein St. Ignatius or St. Cyprian, that it can take the rank, contestthe teaching, and stop the path of the Church of St. Peter, that itcan call itself "the Bride of the Lamb, " this is the view of it whichsimply disappeared from my mind on my conversion, and which it wouldbe almost a miracle to reproduce. "I went by, and lo! it was gone; Isought it, but its place could no where be found;" and nothing canbring it back to me. And, as to its possession of an episcopalsuccession from the time of the apostles, well, it may have it, and, if the holy see ever so decided, I will believe it, as being thedecision of a higher judgment than my own; but, for myself, I musthave St. Philip's gift, who saw the sacerdotal character on theforehead of a gaily-attired youngster, before I can by my own witacquiesce in it, for antiquarian arguments are altogether unequal tothe urgency of visible facts. Why is it that I must pain dear friendsby saying so, and kindle a sort of resentment against me in thekindest of hearts? but I must, though to do it be not only a grief tome, but most impolitic at the moment. Anyhow, this is my mind; and, if to have it, if to have betrayed it, before now, involuntarily bymy words or my deeds, if on a fitting occasion, as now, to haveavowed it, if all this be a proof of the justice of the chargebrought against me of having "turned round upon my Mother-Church withcontumely and slander, " in this sense, but in no other sense, do Iplead guilty to it without a word in extenuation. 

In no other sense surely; the Church of England has been theinstrument of Providence in conferring great benefits on me; had Ibeen born in Dissent, perhaps I should never have been baptised; hadI been born an English Presbyterian, perhaps I should never haveknown our Lord's divinity; had I not come to Oxford, perhaps I nevershould have heard of the visible Church, or of Tradition, or otherCatholic doctrines. And as I have received so much good from theAnglican Establishment itself, can I have the heart, or rather thewant of charity, considering that it does for so many others, what ithas done for me, to wish to see it overthrown? I have no such wishwhile it is what it is, and while we are so small a body. Not for itsown sake, but for the sake of the many congregations to which itministers, I will do nothing against it. While Catholics are so weakin England, it is doing our work; and, though it does us harm in ameasure, at present the balance is in our favour. What our duty wouldbe at another time and in other circumstances, supposing, forinstance, the Establishment lost its dogmatic faith, or at least didnot preach it, is another matter altogether. In secular history weread of hostile nations having long truces, and renewing them fromtime to time, and that seems to be the position the Catholic Churchmay fairly take up at present in relation to the AnglicanEstablishment. 

Doubtless the National Church has hitherto been a serviceablebreakwater against doctrinal errors, more fundamental than its own. How long this will last in the years now before us, it is impossibleto say, for the nation drags down its Church to its own level; butstill the National Church has the same sort of influence over thenation that a periodical has upon the party which it represents, andmy own idea of a Catholic's fitting attitude towards the NationalChurch in this its supreme hour, is that of assisting and sustainingit, if it be in our power, in the interest of dogmatic truth. Ishould wish to avoid everything, except under the direct call ofduty, which went to weaken its hold upon the public mind, or tounsettle its establishment, or to embarrass and lessen itsmaintenance of those great Christian and Catholic principles anddoctrines which it has up to this time successfully preached. 

I say, "except under the call of duty;" and this exception, I amobliged to admit, is not a slight one; it is one which necessarilyplaces a bar to any closer relation between it and ourselves, thanthat of an armed truce. For, in the first place, it stands to reasonthat even a volume, such as this has been, exerts an influenceadverse to the Establishment--at least in the case of many minds; andthis I cannot avoid, though I have sincerely attempted to keep aswide of controversy in the course of it, as ever I could. And next Icannot deny, what must be ever a very sore point with Anglicans, that, if any Anglican comes to me after careful thought and prayer, and with deliberate purpose, and says, "I believe in the HolyCatholic Church, and that your Church and yours alone is it, and Idemand admittance into it, " it would be the greatest of sins in me toreject such a man, as being a distinct contravention of our Lord'smaxim, "Freely ye have received, freely give. "

I have written three volumes which may be considered controversial;Loss and Gain in 1847; Lectures on Difficulties felt by Anglicans insubmitting to the Catholic Church in 1850; and Lectures on thepresent Position of Catholics in England in 1851. And though I haveneither time nor need to go into the matter minutely, a few wordswill suffice for some general account of what has been my object andmy tone in these works severally. 

Of these three, the Lectures on the "Position of Catholics" havenothing to do with the Church of England, as such; they are directedagainst the Protestant or Ultra-Protestant tradition on the subjectof Catholicism since the time of Queen Elizabeth, in which partiesindeed in the Church of England have largely participated, but whichcannot be confused with Anglican teaching itself. Much less can thattradition be confused with the doctrine of the Laudian or of theTractarian School. I owe nothing to Protestantism; and I spokeagainst it even when I was an Anglican, as well as in these Catholiclectures. If I spoke in them against the Church Established, it wasbecause, and so far as, at the time when they were delivered theEstablishment took a violent part against the Catholic Church, on thebasis of the Protestant tradition. Moreover, I had never as anAnglican been a lover of the actual Establishment; Hurrell Froude'sRemains, in which it is called an "incubus" and "Upas Tree, " willstand in evidence, as for him, so for me; for I was one of theeditors. What I said even as an Anglican, it is not strange that Isaid when I was not. Indeed I have been milder in my thoughts of theEstablishment ever since I have been a Catholic than before, and foran obvious reason:--when I was an Anglican, I viewed it as repressinga higher doctrine than its own; and now I view it as keeping out alower and more dangerous. 

Then as to my Lectures on Anglican Difficulties. Neither were theseformally directed against the National Church. They were addressed tothe "Children of the Movement of 1833, " to impress upon them, that, whatever was the case with others, their duty at least was to becomeCatholics, since Catholicism was the real scope and issue of thatMovement. "There is but one thing, " I say, "that forces me tospeak. .. . It will be a miserable thing for you and for me, if I havebeen instrumental in bringing you but half-way, if I have co-operatedin removing your invincible ignorance, but am able to do nomore. "--p. 5. Such being the drift of the volume, the reasoningdirected against the Church of England goes no further than this, that it had no claims whatever on such of its members as wereproceeding onwards with the Movement into the Catholic Church. 

Lastly, as to Loss and Gain: it is the story, simply ideal, of theconversion of an Oxford man. Its drift is to show how little there isin Anglicanism to satisfy and retain a young and earnest heart. Inthis tale, all the best characters are sober Church-of-Englandpeople. No Tractarians proper are introduced: and this is noted inthe advertisement: "No _proper_ representative is intended in thistale, of the religious opinions, which had lately so much influencein the University of Oxford. " There _could_ not be such in the tale, without the introduction of friends, which was impossible in its verynotion. But, since the scene was to be laid during the very years, and at the head-quarters, of Tractarianism, some expedient wasnecessary in order to meet what was a great difficulty. My expedientwas the introduction of what may be called Tractarians _improper_;and I took them the more readily, because, though I knew that suchthere were, I knew none of them personally. I mean such men as I usedto consider of "the gilt-gingerbread school, " from whom I expectedlittle good, persons whose religion lay in ritualism or architecture, and who "played at Popery" or at Anglicanism. I repeat I knew no suchmen, because it is one thing to desire fine churches and ceremonies(which of course I did myself), and quite another thing to desirethese and nothing else; but at that day there was in some quarters, though not in those where I had influence, a strong movement in theesthetic direction. Doubtless I went too far in my apprehension ofsuch a movement: for one of the best, and most devoted andhard-working priests I ever knew was the late Father Hutchison, ofthe London Oratory, and I believe it was architecture that directedhis thoughts towards the Catholic Church. However, I had in my mindan external religion which was inordinate; and, as the men who wereconsidered instances of it, were personally unknown to me, even byname, I introduced them, under imaginary representatives, in Loss andGain, and that, in order to get clear of Tractarians proper; and ofthe three men, whom I have introduced, the Anglican is the best. Inlike manner I introduced two "gilt-gingerbread" young ladies, whowere ideal, absolutely, utterly, without a shred of concreteexistence about them; and I introduced them with the remark that theywere "really kind charitable persons, " and "_by no means_ put forthas _a type_ of a class, " that "among such persons were to be foundthe gentlest spirits and the tenderest hearts, " and that "thesesisters had open hands, if they had not wise heads, " but that "theydid not know much of matters ecclesiastical, and they knew less ofthemselves. "

It has been said, indeed, I know not to what extent, that Iintroduced my friends or partisans into the tale; this is utterlyuntrue. Only two cases of this misconception have come to myknowledge, and I at once denied each of them outright; and I takethis opportunity of denying generally the truth of all other similarcharges. No friend of mine, no one connected in any way with theMovement, entered into the composition of any one of the characters. Indeed, putting aside the two instances which have been distinctlybrought before me, I have not even any sort of suspicion who thepersons are, whom I am thus accused of introducing. 

Next, this writer goes on to speak of Tract 90; a subject of which Ihave treated at great length in a former passage of this narrative, and, in consequence, need not take up again now. 

4. Series of Lives of the English Saints

I have given the history of this publication above at pp. 195-196. Itwas to have consisted of almost 300 Lives, and I was to have been theeditor. It was brought to an end, before it was well begun, by theact of friends who were frightened at the first Life printed, theLife of St. Stephen Harding. Thus I was not responsible except forthe first two numbers; and the advertisements distinctly declaredthis. I had just the same responsibility about the other Lives, thatmy assailant had, and not a bit more. However, it answers his purposeto consider me responsible. 

Next, I observe, that his delusion about "hot-headed fanatic youngmen" continues: here again I figure with my strolling company. "Theysaid, " he observes, "what they believed; at least, what they had beentaught to believe that they ought to believe. And who had taughtthem? Dr. Newman can best answer that question, " p. 20. Well, I willdo what I can to solve the mystery. 

Now as to the juvenile writers in the proposed series. One was myfriend Mr. Bowden, who in 1843 was a man of 46 years old; he was tohave written St. Boniface. Another was Mr. Johnson, a man of 42; hewas to have written St. Aldelm. Another was the author of St. Augustine: let us hear something about him from this writer:--

"Dr. Newman, " he says, "might have said to the Author of the Life ofSt. Augustine, when he found him, in _the heat and haste of youthfulfanaticism_, outraging historic truth and the law of evidence, 'Thismust not be. '"--p. 20. 

Good. This juvenile was past 40--well, say 39. Blot _seventeen_. "This must not be. " This is what I ought to have said, it seems! Andthen, you see, I have not the talent, and never had, of some people, for lecturing my equals, much less men twenty years older thanmyself. 

But again, the author of St. Augustine's Life distinctly says in hisadvertisement, "_No one but himself_ is responsible for the way inwhich these materials have been used. " Blot _eighteen_. 

Thirty-three Lives were actually published. Out of the whole numberthis writer notices _three_. Of these one is "charming;" therefore Iam not to have the benefit of it. Another "outrages historic truthand the law of evidence;" therefore "it was notoriously sanctioned byDr. Newman. " And the third was "one of the most offensive, " and Dr. Newman must have formally connected himself with it in "a moment ofamiable weakness. "--p. 22. What even-handed justice is here! Blot_nineteen_. 

But to return to the juvenile author of St. Augustine:--"I found, "says this writer, "the Life of St. Augustine saying, that, though thepretended visit of St. Peter to England wanted _historic evidence_, 'yet it has undoubtedly been received as a _pious opinion_ by theChurch at large, as we learn from the often-quoted words of St. Innocent I. (who wrote A. D. 416) that St. Peter was instrumental inthe conversion of the West generally. '"--p. 21. He brings thispassage against me (with which, however, I have nothing more to dothan he has) as a great misdemeanour; but let us see what hiscriticism is worth. "And this sort of argument, " continues thepassage, "though it ought to be kept _quite distinct from_documentary and historic proof, will _not be without its effect_ ondevout minds, " etc. I should have thought this a very sober doctrine, viz. That we must not confuse together two things quite distinct fromeach other, criticism and devotion, so proof and opinion--that a_devout_ mind will hold _opinions_ which it cannot demonstrate by"historic _proof_. " What, I ask, is the harm of saying this? Is_this_ my assailant's definition of opinion, "a thing which _can_ beproved?" I cannot answer for him, but I can answer for men ingeneral. Let him read Sir David Brewster's "More Worlds thanOne;"--this principle, which is so shocking to my assailant, isprecisely the argument of Sir David's book; he tells us that theplurality of worlds _cannot_ be _proved_, but _will_ be _received_ byreligious men. He asks, p. 229, "_If_ the stars are _not_ suns, forwhat conceivable _purpose_ were they created?" and then he lays downdogmatically, p. 254, "There is no _opinion_, _out of_ the region of_pure demonstration_, more universally _cherished_ than the doctrineof the Plurality of worlds. " And in his title-page he styles this"opinion" "the _creed_ of the philosopher and the _hope_ of theChristian. " If Brewster may bring devotion into astronomy, why maynot my friend bring it into history? and that the more, when heactually declares that it ought to be kept _quite distinct_ fromhistory, and by no means assumes that he is an historian because heis a hagiographer; whereas, somehow or other, Sir David does seem tome to show a zeal greater than becomes a _savant_, and to assume thathe himself is a theologian because he is an astronomer. This writerowes Sir David as well as me an apology. Blot _twenty_. 

He ought to wish his original charge against me in the magazine deadand buried; but he has the good sense and good taste to revive itagain and again. This is one of the places which he has chosen forit. Let him then, just for a change, substitute Sir David Brewsterfor me in his sentence; Sir David has quite as much right to thecompliment as I have, as far as this Life of St. Augustine isconcerned. Then he will be saying, that, because Sir David teachesthat the belief in more worlds than one is a pious opinion, and not ademonstrated fact, he "does not care for truth for its own sake, orteach men to regard it as a virtue, " p. 21. Blot _twenty-one_. 

However, he goes on to give in this same page one other evidence ofmy disregard of truth. The author of St. Augustine's Life also asksthe following question: "_On what evidence_ do we put faith in theexistence of St. George, the patron of England? Upon such, assuredly, as an acute _critic or skillful pleader_ might easily scatter to thewinds; the belief of prejudiced or credulous witnesses, the unwrittenrecord of empty pageants and bauble decorations. On the side ofscepticism might be exhibited a powerful array of suspicious legendsand exploded acts. Yet, _after all, what Catholic is there but wouldcount it a profaneness to question the existence of St. George?_" Onwhich my assailant observes, "When I found Dr. Newman allowing hisdisciples . .. In page after page, in Life after Life, to talknonsense of this kind which is not only sheer Popery, _but saps thevery foundation of historic truth_, was it so wonderful that Iconceived him to have taught and thought like them?" p. 22, that is, to have taught lying. 

Well and good; here again take a parallel; not St. George, butLycurgus. 

Mr. Grote says: "Plutarch begins his biography of Lycurgus with thefollowing ominous words: 'Concerning the lawgiver Lycurgus, we canassert _absolutely nothing_, which is not controverted. There aredifferent stories in respect to his birth, his travels, his death, and also his mode of proceeding, political as well as legislative:least of all is the time in which he lived agreed on. ' And thisexordium _is but too well borne out_ by the unsatisfactory nature ofthe accounts which we read, not only in Plutarch himself, but inthose other authors, out of whom we are obliged to make up our ideaof the memorable Lycurgian system. "--Greece, vol. Ii. P 455. ButBishop Thirlwall says, "Experience proves that _scarcely any amountof variation_, as to the time or circumstances of a fact, in theauthors who record it, _can be a sufficient ground_ for doubting itsreality. "--Greece, vol. I. P. 332. 

Accordingly, my assailant is virtually saying of the latter of thesetwo historians, "When I found the Bishop of St. David's talkingnonsense of this kind, which saps the very foundation of historictruth, " was it "hasty or far-fetched" to conclude "that he did notcare for truth for its own sake, or teach his disciples to regard itas a virtue?" p. 21. Nay, further, the Author of St. Angustine is nomore a disciple of mine, than the Bishop of St. David's is of myassailant's, and therefore the parallel will be more exact if Iaccuse this professor of history of _teaching_ Dr. Thirlwall not tocare for truth, as a virtue, for its own sake. Blot _twenty-two_. 

It is hard on me to have this dull, profitless work. But I havepledged myself;--so now for St. Walburga. 

Now will it be believed that this writer suppresses the fact that themiracles of St. Walburga are treated by the author of her Life asmythical? yet that is the tone of the whole composition. This writercan notice it in the Life of St. Neot, the first of the three Liveswhich he criticises; these are his words: "Some of them, the writers, for instance, of Volume 4, which contains, among others, a charminglife of St. Neot, treat the stories openly as legends and myths, andtell them as they stand, without asking the reader, or themselves, tobelieve them altogether. The method is harmless enough, if thelegends had stood alone; but dangerous enough, when they stand sideby side with stories told in earnest, like that of St. Walburga. "--p. 22. 

Now, first, that the miraculous stories _are_ treated, in the Life ofSt. Walburga, as legends and myths. Throughout, the miracles andextraordinary occurrences are spoken of as "said" or "reported;" andthe suggestion is made that, even though they occurred, they mighthave been after all natural. Thus, in one of the very passages whichmy assailant quotes, the author says, "Illuminated men feel theprivileges of Christianity, and to them the evil influence of Satanicpower is horribly discernible, like the Egyptian darkness which couldbe felt; and _the only way to express_ their keen perception of it is_to say_, that they _see_ upon the countenances of the slaves of sin, the marks, and lineaments, and stamp of the evil one; and [that] they_smell_ with their nostrils the horrible fumes that arise from their_vices_ and uncleansed _heart_, " etc. P. 78. This introduces St. Sturme and the gambolling Germans; what does it mean but that "theintolerable scent" was nothing physical, or strictly miraculous, butthe horror, parallel to physical distress, with which the saint wasaffected, from his knowledge of the state of their souls? Myassailant is a lucky man, if mental pain has never come upon him witha substance and a volume, as forcible as if it were bodily. 

And so in like manner, the author of the Life says, as this writeractually has quoted him, "a story _was told and believed_, " p. 94. "One evening, _says her history_, " p. 87. "Another incident _is thusrelated_, " p. 88. "Immediately, _says_ Wülfhard, " p. 91. "A vastnumber of other cases are _recorded_, " p. 92. And there is a distinctintimation that they may be myths, in a passage which this assailanthimself quotes, "All these have the _character_ of a gentle mothercorrecting the idleness and faults of careless and thoughtlesschildren with tenderness. "--p. 95. I think the criticism which hemakes upon this Life is one of the most wanton passages in hispamphlet. The Life is beautifully written, full of poetry, and, as Ihave said, bears on its very surface the profession of a legendaryand mythical character. Blot _twenty-three_. 

In saying all this, I have no intention whatever of implying thatmiracles did not illustrate the Life of St. Walburga; but neither theauthor nor I have bound ourselves to the belief of certain instancesin particular. My assailant, in the passage which I just now quotedfrom him, made some distinction, which was apparently intended tosave St. Neot, while it condemned St. Walburga. He said that legendsare "dangerous enough, when they stand side by side with stories toldin earnest like St. Walburga. " He will find he has here Dr. Milmanagainst him, as he has already had Sir David Brewster, and the Bishopof St. David's. He accuses me of having "outraged historic truth andthe law of evidence, " because friends of mine have considered that, though opinions need not be convictions, nevertheless that legendsmay be connected with history: now, on the contrary, let us hear theDean of St. Paul's:--

"_History_, to be _true_, must condescend to speak the language of_legend_; the _belief_ of the times is _part_ of the _record_ of thetimes; and, though there may occur what may baffle its more calm andsearching philosophy, it _must not disdain_ that which was theprimal, almost universal, motive of human life. "--Latin. Christ. , vol. I. P. 388. Dr. Milman's decision justifies me in putting thisdown as Blot _twenty-four_. 

However, there is one miraculous account for which this writer makesme directly answerable, and with reason; and with it I shall concludemy reply to his criticisms on the "Lives of the English Saints. " Itis the medicinal oil which flows from the relics of St. Walburga. 

Now, as I shall have occasion to remark under my next head, these twoquestions among others occur, in judging of a miraculous story; viz. Whether the matter of it is extravagant, and whether it is a fact. And first, it is plain there is nothing extravagant in this report ofthe relics having a supernatural virtue; and for this reason, becausethere are such instances in Scripture, and Scripture cannot beextravagant. For instance, a man was restored to life by touching therelics of the prophet Eliseus. The sacred text runs thus:--"AndElisha died, and they buried him. And the bands of the Moabitesinvaded the land at the coming in of the year. And it came to pass, as they were burying a man, that, behold, they spied a band of men;and they cast the man into the sepulchre of Elisha. And, when the manwas let down, _and touched the bones of Elisha, he revived_, andstood upon his feet. " Again, in the case of an inanimate substance, which had touched a living saint: "And God wrought _special miracles_by the hands of Paul; so that _from his body_ were brought unto thesick _handkerchiefs or aprons_, and _the diseases departed fromthem_. " And again in the case of a pool: "An _angel went down_ at acertain season into the pool, and troubled the water; whosoever thenfirst, after the troubling of the water, stepped in, _was made wholeof whatsoever disease_ he had. " 2 Kings [4 Kings] xiii. 20, 21. Actsxix. 11, 12. John v. 4. Therefore there is nothing _extravagant_ inthe _character_ of the miracle. 

The main question then (I do not say the only remaining question, butthe main question) is the _matter of fact_:--_is_ there an oilflowing from St. Walburga's tomb, which is medicinal? To thisquestion I confined myself in the Preface to the volume. Of theaccounts of medieval miracles, I said that there was no_extravagance_ in their _general character_, but I could not affirmthat there was always _evidence_ for them. I could not simply acceptthem as _facts_, but I could not reject them in their _nature_; they_might_ be true, for they were not impossible: but they were _notproved_ to be true, because there was not trustworthy testimony. However, as to St. Walburga, I made _one_ exception, the fact of themedicinal oil, since for that miracle there was distinct andsuccessive testimony. And then I went on to give a chain ofwitnesses. It was my duty to state what those witnesses said in theirvery words; and I did so; they were in Latin, and I gave them inLatin. One of them speaks of the "sacrum oleum" flowing "de membrisejus virgineis, maximè tamen pectoralibus;" and I so printed it;--ifI had left it out, this sweet-tempered writer would have accused meof an "economy. " I gave the testimonies in full, tracing them fromthe saint's death. I said, "She is one of the principal Saints of herage and country. " Then I quoted Basnage, a Protestant, who says, "Sixwriters are extant, who have employed themselves in relating thedeeds or miracles of Walburga. " Then I said that her "renown was notthe mere natural _growth_ of ages, but begins with the very centuryof the Saint's death. " Then I observed that only two miracles seem tohave been "distinctly reported of her as occurring in her lifetime;and they were handed down apparently by tradition. " Also, that theyare said to have commenced about A. D. 777. Then I spoke of themedicinal oil as having testimony to it in 893, in 1306, after 1450, in 1615, and in 1620. Also, I said that Mabillon seems not to havebelieved some of her miracles; and that the earliest witness had gotinto trouble with his bishop. And so I left it, as a question to bedecided by evidence, not deciding anything myself. 

What was the harm of all this? but my critic has muddled it togetherin a most extraordinary manner, and I am far from sure that he knowshimself the definite categorical charge which he intends it to conveyagainst me. One of his remarks is, "What has become of the holy oilfor the last 240 years, Dr. Newman does not say, " p. 25. Of course Idid not, because I did not know; I gave the evidence as I found it;he assumes that I had a point to prove, and then asks why I did notmake the evidence larger than it was. I put this down as Blot_twenty-five_. 

I can tell him more about it now; the oil still flows; I have hadsome of it in my possession; it is medicinal; some think it is so bya natural quality, others by a divine gift. Perhaps it is on theconfines of both. 

5. Ecclesiastical Miracles

What is the use of going on with this writer's criticisms upon me, when I am confined to the dull monotony of exposing and oversettinghim again and again, with a persistence, which many will thinkmerciless, and few will have the interest to read? Yet I am obligedto do so, lest I should seem to be evading difficulties. 

Now as to Miracles. Catholics believe that they happen in any age ofthe Church, though not for the same purposes, in the same number, orwith the same evidence, as in apostolic times. The apostles wroughtthem in evidence of their divine mission; and with this object theyhave been sometimes wrought by evangelists of countries since, aseven Protestants allow. Hence we hear of them in the history of St. Gregory in Pontus, and St. Martin in Gaul; and in their case, as inthat of the apostles, they were both numerous and clear. As they aregranted to evangelists, so are they granted, though in less measureand evidence, to other holy men; and as holy men are not foundequally at all times and in all places, therefore miracles are insome places and times more than in others. And since, generally, theyare granted to faith and prayer, therefore in a country in whichfaith and prayer abound, they will be more likely to occur, thanwhere and when faith and prayer are not; so that their occurrence isirregular. And further, as faith and prayer obtain miracles, so stillmore commonly do they gain from above the ordinary interventions ofProvidence; and, as it is often very difficult to distinguish betweena providence and a miracle, and there will be more providences thanmiracles, hence it will happen that many occurrences will be calledmiraculous, which, strictly speaking, are not such, and not more thanprovidential mercies, or what are sometimes called "graces" or"favours. "

Persons who believe all this, in accordance with Catholic teaching, as I did and do, they, on the report of a miracle, will of necessity, the necessity of good logic, be led to say, first, "It _may_ be, " andsecondly, "But I must have _good evidence_ in order to believe it. "It _may_ be, because miracles take place in all ages; it must beclearly _proved_, because perhaps after all it may be only aprovidential mercy, or an exaggeration, or a mistake, or animposture. Well, this is precisely what I have said, which thiswriter considers so irrational. I have said, as he quotes me, p. 24, "In this day, and under our present circumstances, we can only reply, that there is no reason why they should not be. " Surely this is goodlogic, _provided_ that miracles _do_ occur in all ages; and so againis it logical to say, "There is nothing, _primâ facie_, in themiraculous accounts in question, to repel a _properly taught_ orreligiously disposed mind. " What is the matter with this statement?My assailant does not pretend to say _what_ the matter is, and hecannot; but he expresses a rude, unmeaning astonishment. Next, Istated _what_ evidence there is for the miracles of which I wasspeaking; what is the harm of that? He observes, "What evidence Dr. Newman requires, he makes evident at once. He at least will fear forhimself, and swallow the whole as it comes. "--p. 24. What randomabuse is this, or, to use _his own words_ of me just before, what"stuff and nonsense!" What is it I am "swallowing"? "the whole" what?the evidence? or the miracles? I have swallowed neither, nor impliedany such thing. Blot _twenty-six_. 

But to return: I have just said that a Catholic's state of mind, oflogical necessity, will be, "It _may_ be a miracle, but it has to be_proved_. " _What_ has to be proved? 1. That the event occurred asstated, and is not a false report or an exaggeration. 2. That it isclearly miraculous, and not a mere providence or answer to prayerwithin the order of nature. What is the fault of saying this? Theinquiry is parallel to that which is made about some extraordinaryfact in secular history. Supposing I hear that King Charles II. Dieda Catholic, I should say, 1. It _may_ be. 2. What is your _proof_?Accordingly, in the passage which this writer quotes, I observe, "Miracles are the kind of facts proper to ecclesiastical history, just as instances of sagacity or daring, personal prowess, or crime, are the facts proper to secular history. " What is the harm of this?But this writer says, "Verily his [Dr. Newman's] idea of secularhistory is almost as degraded as his idea of ecclesiastical, " p. 24, and he ends with this muddle of an _Ipse dixit_! Blot _twenty-seven_. 

In like manner, about the Holy Coat at Trèves, he says of me, "Dr. Newman . .. Seems _hardly sure_ of the authenticity of the Holy Coat. "Why _need_ I be, more than I am sure that Richard III. Murdered thelittle princes? If I have not _means_ of making up my mind one way orthe other, surely my most logical course is "_not_ to be sure. " Hecontinues, "Dr. Newman 'does not see _why it may not have been_ whatit professes to be. '" Well, is not that just what this writer wouldsay of a great number of the facts recorded in secular history? is itnot what he would be obliged to say of much that is told us about thearmour and other antiquities in the Tower of London? To this Ialluded in the passage from which he quotes; but he has _garbled_that passage, and I must show it. He quotes me to this effect: "Isthe Tower of London shut against sight-seers because the coats ofmail or pikes there may have half-legendary tales connected withthem? why then may not the country people come up in joyouscompanies, singing and piping, to _see_ the holy coat at Treves?" Onthis he remarks, "To _see_, forsooth! to _worship_, Dr. Newman wouldhave said, had he known (as I take for granted he does not) the factsof that imposture. " Here, if I understand him, he implies that thepeople came up, not only to see, but to worship, and that I haveslurred over the fact that their coming was an act of religioushomage, that is, what _he_ would call "worship. " Now, will it bebelieved that, so far from concealing this, I had carefully stated itin the sentence immediately preceding, and _he suppresses it_? I say, "The world pays civil honour to it [a jewel said to be Alfred's] onthe probability; we pay _religious honour_ to relics, if so be, onthe probability. Is the Tower of London, " I proceed, "shut, " etc. Blot _twenty-eight_. 

These words of mine, however, are but one sentence in a longargument, conveying the Catholic view on the subject ofecclesiastical miracles; and, as it is carefully worked out, and verymuch to the present point, and will save me doing over again what Icould not do better or more fully now, if I set about it, I shallmake a very long extract from the Lecture in which it occurs, and sobring this Head to an end. 

The argument, I should first observe, which is worked out, is this, that Catholics set out with a definite religious tenet as a firstprinciple, and Protestants with a contrary one, and that on thisaccount it comes to pass that miracles are credible to Catholics andincredible to Protestants. 

"We affirm that the Supreme Being has wrought miracles on earth eversince the time of the Apostles; Protestants deny it. Why do weaffirm, why do they deny? We affirm it on a first principle, theydeny it on a first principle; and on either side the first principleis made to be decisive of the question . .. Both they and we startwith the miracles of the Apostles; and then their first principle orpresumption against our miracles is this, 'What God did once, He is_not_ likely to do again;' while our first principle or presumptionfor our miracles is this; 'What God did once, He _is_ likely to doagain. ' They say, It cannot be supposed He will work _many_ miracles;we, It cannot be supposed He will work _few_. 

"The Protestant, I say, laughs at the very idea of miracles orsupernatural powers as occurring at this day; his first principle isrooted in him; he repels from him the idea of miracles; he laughs atthe notion of evidence; one is just as likely as another; they areall false. Why? because of his first principle, There are no miraclessince the Apostles. Here, indeed, is a short and easy way of gettingrid of the whole subject, not by reason, but by a first principlewhich he calls reason. Yes, it _is_ reason, granting his firstprinciple is true; it is not reason, supposing his first principle isfalse. 

"There is in the Church a vast tradition and testimony aboutmiracles; how is it to be accounted for? If miracles _can_ takeplace, then the _fact_ of the miracle will be a natural explanationof the _report_, just as the fact of a man dying accountssatisfactorily for the news that he is dead; but the Protestantcannot so explain it, because he thinks miracles cannot take place;so he is necessarily driven, by way of accounting for the report ofthem, to impute that report to fraud. He cannot help himself. Irepeat it; the whole mass of accusations which Protestants bringagainst us under this head, Catholic credulity, imposture, piousfrauds, hypocrisy, priestcraft, this vast and varied superstructureof imputation, you see, all rests on an assumption, on an opinion oftheirs, for which they offer no kind of proof. What then, in fact, dothey say more than this, _If_ Protestantism be true, you Catholicsare a most awful set of knaves? Here, at least, is a most sensibleand undeniable position. 

"Now, on the other hand, let me take our own side of the question, and consider how we ourselves stand relatively to the charge madeagainst us. Catholics, then, hold the mystery of the Incarnation;and the Incarnation is the most stupendous event which ever can takeplace on earth; and after it and henceforth, I do not see how wecan scruple at any miracle on the mere ground of its being unlikelyto happen. .. . When we start with assuming that miracles are notunlikely, we are putting forth a position which lies embedded, as itwere, and involved in the great revealed fact of the Incarnation. Somuch is plain on starting; but more is plain too. Miracles are notonly not unlikely, but they are positively likely; and for thissimple reason, because for the most part, when God begins, He goeson. We conceive, that when He first did a miracle, He began a series;what He commenced, He continued: what has been, will be. Surely thisis good and clear reasoning. To my own mind, certainly, it isincomparably more difficult to believe that the Divine Being shoulddo one miracle and no more, than that He should do a thousand; thatHe should do one great miracle only, than that He should do amultitude of lesser besides. .. . If the Divine Being does a thingonce, He is, judging by human reason, likely to do it again. Thissurely is common sense. If a beggar gets food at a gentleman's houseonce, does he not send others thither after him? If you are attackedby thieves once, do you forthwith leave your windows open at night?. .. Nay, suppose you yourselves were once to see a miracle, would younot feel the occurrence to be like passing a line? would you, inconsequence of it, declare, 'I never will believe another if I hearof one?' would it not, on the contrary, predispose you to listen to anew report? . .. 

"When I hear the report of a miracle, my first feeling would be ofthe same kind as if it were a report of any natural exploit or event. Supposing, for instance, I heard a report of the death of some publicman; it would not startle me, even if I did not at once credit it, for all men must die. Did I read of any great feat of valour, Ishould believe it, if imputed to Alexander or Coeur de Lion. DidI hear of any act of baseness, I should disbelieve it, if imputed toa friend whom I knew and loved. And so in like manner were a miraclereported to me as wrought by a Member of Parliament, or a Bishop ofthe Establishment, or a Wesleyan preacher, I should repudiate thenotion: were it referred to a saint, or the relic of a saint, or theintercession of a saint, I should not be startled at it, though Imight not at once believe it. And I certainly should be right inthis conduct, supposing my First Principle be true. Miracles tothe Catholic are historical facts, and nothing short of this; andthey are to be regarded and dealt with as other facts; and asnatural facts, under circumstances, do not startle Protestants, sosupernatural, under circumstances, do not startle the Catholic. Theymay or may not have taken place in particular cases; he may be unableto determine which, he may have no distinct evidence; he may suspendhis judgment, but he will say 'It is very possible;' he never willsay 'I cannot believe it. '

"Take the history of Alfred; you know his wise, mild, beneficent, yetdaring character, and his romantic vicissitudes of fortune. Thisgreat king has a number of stories, or, as you may call them, legendstold of him. Do you believe them all? no. Do you, on the other hand, think them incredible? no. Do you call a man a dupe or a block-headfor believing them? no. Do you call an author a knave or a cheat whorecords them? no. You go into neither extreme, whether of implicitfaith or of violent reprobation. You are not so extravagant; you seethat they suit his character, they may have happened: yet this isso romantic, that has so little evidence, a third is so confused indates or in geography, that you are in matter of fact indisposedtowards them. Others are probably true, others certainly. Nor do youforce every one to take your view of particular stories; you and yourneighbour think differently about this or that in detail, and agreeto differ. There is in the museum at Oxford, a jewel or trinket saidto be Alfred's; it is shown to all comers; I never heard the keeperof the museum accused of hypocrisy or fraud for showing, withAlfred's name appended, what he might or might not himself believe tohave belonged to that great king; nor did I ever see any party ofstrangers who were looking at it with awe, regarded by anyself-complacent bystander with scornful compassion. Yet the curiosityis not to a certainty Alfred's. The world pays civil honour to it onthe probability; we pay religious honour to relics, if so be, on theprobability. Is the Tower of London shut against sight-seers, becausethe coats of mail and pikes there may have half-legendary talesconnected with them? why then may not the country people come up injoyous companies, singing and piping, to see the Holy Coat at Trèves?There is our Queen again, who is so truly and justly popular; sheroves about in the midst of tradition and romance; she scatters mythsand legends from her as she goes along; she is a being of poetry, andyou might fairly be sceptical whether she had any personal existence. She is always at some beautiful, noble, bounteous work or other, ifyou trust the papers. She is doing alms-deeds in the Highlands; shemeets beggars in her rides at Windsor; she writes verses in albums, or draws sketches, or is mistaken for the house-keeper by someblind old woman, or she runs up a hill as if she were a child. Whofinds fault with these things? he would be a cynic, he would bewhite-livered, and would have gall for blood, who was not struck withthis graceful, touching evidence of the love her subjects bear her. Who could have the head, even if he had the heart, who could be socross and peevish, who could be so solemn and perverse, as to saythat some of these stories _may_ be simple lies, and all of themmight have stronger evidence than they carry with them? Do you thinkshe is displeased at them? Why then should He, the Great Father, whoonce walked the earth, look sternly on the unavoidable mistakes ofHis own subjects and children in their devotion to Him and His? Evengranting they mistake some cases in particular, from the infirmity ofhuman nature and the contingencies of evidence, and fancy there is orhas been a miracle here and there when there is not, though atradition, attached to a picture, or to a shrine, or a well, be verydoubtful, though one relic be sometimes mistaken for another, and St. Theodore stands for St. Eugenius or St. Agathocles, still, once takeinto account our First Principle, that He is likely to continuemiracles among us, which is as good as the Protestant's, and I do notsee why He should feel much displeasure with us on account of this, or should cease to work wonders in our behalf. In the Protestant'sview, indeed, who assumes that miracles never are, our thaumatologyis one great falsehood; but that is _his_ First Principle, as I havesaid so often, which he does not prove but assume. If _he_, indeed, upheld _our_ system, or _we_ held _his_ principle, in either case heor we should be impostors; but though we should be partners to afraud if we thought like Protestants, we surely are not if we thinklike Catholics. 

"Such then is the answer I make to those who would urge against usthe multitude of miracles recorded in our Saints' Lives anddevotional works, for many of which there is little evidence, andfor some next to none. We think them true in the same sense in whichProtestants think the history of England true. When they say _that_, they do not mean to say that there are no mistakes, but no mistakesof consequence, none which alter the general course of history. Nordo they mean they are equally sure of every part; for evidence isfuller and better for some things than for others. They do not staketheir credit on the truth of Froissart or Sully, they do not pledgethemselves for the accuracy of Doddington or Walpole, they do notembrace as an Evangelist Hume, Sharon Turner, or Macaulay. And yetthey do not think it necessary, on the other hand, to commence areligious war against all our historical catechisms, and abstracts, and dictionaries, and tales, and biographies, through the country;they have no call on them to amend and expurgate books of archæology, antiquities, heraldry, architecture, geography, and statistics, tore-write our inscriptions, and to establish a censorship on all newpublications for the time to come. And so as regards the miracles ofthe Catholic Church; if, indeed, miracles never can occur, then, indeed, impute the narratives to fraud; but till you prove they arenot likely, we shall consider the histories which have come downto us true on the whole, though in particular cases they may beexaggerated or unfounded. Where, indeed, they can certainly be provedto be false, there we shall be bound to do our best to get rid ofthem; but till that is clear, we shall be liberal enough to allowothers to use their private judgment in their favour, as we use oursin their disparagement. For myself, lest I appear in any way to beshrinking from a determinate judgment on the claims of some of thosemiracles and relics, which Protestants are so startled at, and to behiding particular questions in what is vague and general, I will avowdistinctly, that, _putting out of the question_ the _hypothesis ofunknown laws of nature_ (which is an evasion from the force of anyproof), I think it impossible to _withstand the evidence_ which isbrought for the liquefaction of the blood of St. Januarius at Naples, and for the motion of the eyes of the pictures of the Madonna in theRoman States. I _see no reason to doubt_ the material of the Lombardcrown at Monza; and I _do not see why_ the Holy Coat at Trèves maynot have been what it professes to be. I _firmly believe_ thatportions of the True Cross are at Rome and elsewhere, that the Cribof Bethlehem is at Rome, and the bodies of St. Peter and St. Paulalso. .. . Many men when they hear an educated man so speak, will atonce impute the avowal to insanity, or to an idiosyncrasy, or toimbecility of mind, or to decrepitude of powers, or to fanaticism, orto hypocrisy. They have a right to say so, if they will; and we havea right to ask them why they do not say it of those who bow downbefore the Mystery of mysteries, the Divine Incarnation?"

In my Essay on Miracles of the year 1826, I proposed three questionsabout a professed miraculous occurrence, 1. Is it antecedently_probable_? 2. Is it in its _nature_ certainly miraculous? 3. Has itsufficient _evidence_? These are the three heads under which I stillwish to conduct the inquiry into the miracles of ecclesiasticalhistory. 

6. Popular Religion

This writer uses much rhetoric against a lecture of mine, in which Ibring out, as honestly as I can, the state of countries which havelong received the Catholic Faith, and hold it by the force oftradition, universal custom, and legal establishment; a lecture inwhich I give pictures, drawn principally from the middle ages, ofwhat, considering the corruption of the human race generally, thatstate is sure to be--pictures of its special sins and offences, _suigeneris_, which are the result of that faith when it is separatedfrom love or charity, or of what Scripture calls a "dead faith, " ofthe light shining in darkness, and the truth held in unrighteousness. The nearest approach which this writer is able to make towardsstating what I have said in this lecture, is to state the veryreverse. Observe: we have already had some instances of the hazinessof his ideas concerning the "Notes of the Church. " These notes are, as any one knows who has looked into the subject, certain great andsimple characteristics, which He who founded the Church has stampedupon her in order to draw both the reason and the imagination of mento her, as being really a divine work, and a religion distinct fromall other religious communities; the principal of these notes beingthat she is Holy, One, Catholic, and Apostolic, as the Creed says. Now, to use his own word, he has the incredible "audacity" to say, that I have declared, not the divine characteristics of the Church, but the sins and scandals in her, to be her Notes--as if I made Godthe author of evil. He says distinctly, "Dr. Newman, with a kind ofdesperate audacity, _will_ dig forth such _scandals_ as _Notes_ ofthe Catholic Church. " This is what I get at his hands for my honesty. Blot _twenty-nine_. 

Again, he says, "[Dr. Newman uses] the blasphemy and profanity whichhe confesses to be so common in Catholic countries, as an argument_for_, and not _against_ the 'Catholic Faith. '"--p. 34. That is, because I admit that profaneness exists in the Church, therefore Iconsider it a token of the Church. Yes, certainly, just as ournational form of cursing is an evidence of the being of a God, and asa gallows is the glorious sign of a civilised country, --but in noother way. Blot _thirty_. 

What is it that I really say? I say as follows: Protestants objectthat the communion of Rome does not fulfil satisfactorily theexpectation which we may justly form concerning the true Church, asit is delineated in the four notes, enumerated in the Creed; andamong others, _e. G. _ in the note of sanctity; and they point, inproof of what they assert, to the state of Catholic countries. Now, in answer to this objection, it is plain what I might have done, if Ihad not had a conscience. I might have denied the fact. I might havesaid, for instance, that the middle ages were as virtuous, as theywere believing. I might have denied that there was any violence, anysuperstition, any immorality, any blasphemy during them. And so as tothe state of countries which have long had the light of Catholictruth, and have degenerated. I might have admitted nothing againstthem, and explained away everything which plausibly told to theirdisadvantage. I did nothing of the kind; and what effect has this hadupon this estimable critic? "Dr. Newman takes a seeming pleasure, " hesays, "in detailing instances of dishonesty on the part ofCatholics. "--p. 34. Blot _thirty-one_. Any one who knows me well, would testify that my "seeming pleasure, " as he calls it, at suchthings, is just the impatient sensitiveness, which relieves itself bymeans of a definite delineation of what is so hateful to it. 

However, to pass on. All the miserable scandals of Catholiccountries, taken at the worst, are, as I view the matter, no argumentagainst the Church itself; and the reason which I give in the lectureis, that, according to the proverb, Corruptio optimi est pessima. TheJews could sin in a way no other contemporary race could sin, fortheirs was a sin against light; and Catholics can sin with a depthand intensity with which Protestants cannot sin. There will be moreblasphemy, more hatred of God, more of diabolical rebellion, more ofawful sacrilege, more of vile hypocrisy in a Catholic country thananywhere else, because there is in it more of sin against light. Surely, this is just what Scripture says, "Woe unto thee, Chorazin!woe unto thee, Bethsaida!" And, again, surely what is told us byreligious men, say by Father Bresciani, about the present unbelievingparty in Italy, fully bears out the divine text: "If, after they haveescaped the pollutions of the world . .. They are again entangledtherein and overcome, the latter end is worse with them than thebeginning. For it had been better for them not to have known the wayof righteousness, than, after they have known it, to turn from theholy commandments delivered unto them. "

And what is true of those who thus openly oppose themselves to thetruth, as it was true of the Evil One in the beginning, will in ananalogous way be true in the case of all sin, be it of a heavier orlighter character, which is found in a Catholic country:--sin will bestrangely tinged or dyed by religious associations or beliefs, andwill exhibit the tragical inconsistencies of the excess of knowledgeover love, or of much faith with little obedience. The mysteriousbattle between good and evil will assume in a Catholic country itsmost frightful shape, when it is not the collision of two distinctand far-separated hosts, but when it is carried on in heartsand souls, taken one by one, and when the eternal foes are sointermingled and interfused that to human eyes they seem to coalesceinto a multitude of individualities. This is in course of years, thereal, the hidden condition of a nation, which has been bathed inChristian ideas, whether it be a young vigorous race, or an old anddegenerate; and it will manifest itself socially and historicallyin those characteristics, sometimes grotesque, sometimes hideous, sometimes despicable, of which we have so many instances, medievaland modern, both in this hemisphere and in the western. It is, I say, the necessary result of the intercommunion of divine faith and humancorruption. 

But it has a light side as well as a dark. First, much which seemsprofane, is not in itself profane, but in the subjective view of theProtestant beholder. Scenic representations of our Lord's Passion arenot profane to a Catholic population; in like manner, there areusages, customs, institutions, actions, often of an indifferentnature, which will be necessarily mixed up with religion in aCatholic country, because all things whatever are so mixed up. Protestants have been sometimes shocked, most absurdly as a Catholicrightly decides, at hearing that Mass is sometimes said for a goodhaul of fish. There is no sin here, but only a difference fromProtestant customs. Other phenomena of a Catholic nation are at mostmere extravagances. And then as to what is really sinful, if there bein it fearful instances of blasphemy or superstition, there are alsospecial and singular fruits and exhibitions of sanctity; and, ifthe many do not seem to lead better lives for all their religiousknowledge, at least they learn, as they can learn nowhere else, howto repent thoroughly and to die well. 

The visible state of a country, which professes Catholicism, need notbe the measure of the spiritual result of that Catholicism, at theeternal judgment seat; but no one could say that that visible statewas a note that Catholicism was divine. 

All this I attempted to bring out in the lecture of which I amspeaking; and that I had some success, I am glad to infer from themessage of congratulation upon it, which I received at the time, froma foreign Catholic layman, of high English reputation, with whom Ihad not the honour of a personal acquaintance. And having given thekey to the lecture, which the writer so wonderfully misrepresents, I pass on to another head. 

7. The Economy

For the subject of the Economy, I shall refer to my discussion uponit in my History of the Arians, after one word about this writer. Heputs into his title-page these words from a sermon of mine: "It isnot more than an hyperbole to say, that, in certain cases, a lie isthe nearest approach to truth. " This sermon he attacks; but I do notthink it necessary to defend it here, because any one who reads it, will see that he is simply incapable of forming a notion of what itis about. It treats of subjects which are entirely out of his depth;and, as I have already shown in other instances, and observed in thebeginning of this volume, he illustrates in his own person the verything that shocks him, viz. That the nearest approach to truth, ingiven cases, is a lie. He does his best to make something of it, Ibelieve; but he gets simply perplexed. He finds that it annihilatesspace, robs him of locomotion, almost scoffs at the existence of theearth, and he is simply frightened and cowed. He can but say "the manwho wrote that sermon was already past the possibility of consciousdishonesty, " p. 41. Perhaps it is hardly fair, after such aconfession on his part of being fairly beat, to mark down a blot;however, let it be Blot _thirty-two_. 

Then again, he quotes from me thus: "Many a theory or view of things, on which an institution is founded, or a party held together, is ofthe same kind (economical). Many an argument, used by zealous andearnest men, has this economical character, being not the very groundon which they act (for they continue in the same course, though it berefuted), yet in a certain sense, a representation of it, a proximatedescription of their feelings, in the shape of argument, on whichthey can rest, to which they can recur when perplexed, and appealwhen they are questioned. " He calls these "startling words, " p. 39. Yet here again he illustrates their truth; for in his own case, hehas acted on them in this very controversy with the most happyexactness. Surely he referred to my sermon on Wisdom and Innocence, when called on to prove me a liar, as "a proximate description of hisfeelings about me, in the shape of argument, " and he has "continuedin the same course though it has been refuted. " Blot _thirty-three_. 

Then, as to "a party being held together by a mythicalrepresentation, " or economy. Surely "Church and King, " "Reform, ""Non-intervention, " are such symbols; or let this writer answer Mr. Kinglake's question in his "Crimean War, " "Is it true that . .. Greatarmies were gathering, and that for the sake of the _Key_ and the_Star_ the peace of the nations was brought into danger?" Blot_thirty-four_. 

In the beginning of this work, pp. 17-23, I refuted his gratuitousaccusation against me at p. 42, founded on my calling one of myAnglican sermons a Protestant one: so I have nothing to do but toregister it here as Blot _thirty-five_. 

Then he says that I committed an economy in placing in my originaltitle-page, that the question between him and me, was whether "Dr. Newman teaches that Truth is no virtue. " It was a "wisdom of theserpentine type, " since I did not add, "for its own sake. " Nowobserve: First, as to the matter of fact, in the course of myLetters, which bore that title-page, I printed the words "for its ownsake, " _five_ times over. Next, pray, what kind of a virtue is that, which is _not_ done for its own sake? So this, after all, is thiswriter's idea of virtue! a something that is done for the sake ofsomething _else_; a sort of expedience! He is honest, it seems, simply _because_ honesty is "the best policy, " and on that score itis that he thinks himself virtuous. Why, "for its own sake" entersinto the very idea or definition of a virtue. Defend me from suchvirtuous men, as this writer would inflict upon us! Blot_thirty-six_. 

These blots are enough just now; so I proceed to a brief sketch ofwhat I held in 1833 upon the Economy, as a rule of practice. I wrotethis two months ago; perhaps the composition is not quite in keepingwith the run of this Appendix; and it is short; but I think it willbe sufficient for my purpose:--

The doctrine of the _Economia_, had, as I have shown, pp. 49-51, alarge signification when applied to the divine ordinances; it alsohad a definite application to the duties of Christians, whetherclergy or laity, in preaching, in instructing or catechizing, or inordinary intercourse with the world around them. 

As Almighty God did not all at once introduce the Gospel to theworld, and thereby gradually prepared men for its profitablereception, so, according to the doctrine of the early Church, it wasa duty, for the sake of the heathen among whom they lived, to observea great reserve and caution in communicating to them the knowledge of"the whole counsel of God. " This cautious dispensation of the truth, after the manner of a discreet and vigilant steward, is denoted bythe word "economy. " It is a mode of acting which comes under the headof prudence, one of the four cardinal virtues. 

The principle of the economy is this; that out of various courses, inreligious conduct or statement, all and each _allowable antecedentlyand in themselves_, that ought to be taken which is most expedientand most suitable at the time for the object in hand. 

Instances of its application and exercise in Scripture are such asthe following:--1. Divine Providence did but gradually impart to theworld in general, and to the Jews in particular, the knowledge of Hiswill:--He is said to have "winked at the times of ignorance among theheathen;" and He suffered in the Jews divorce "because of thehardness of their hearts. " 2. He has allowed Himself to berepresented as having eyes, ears, and hands, as having wrath, jealousy, grief, and repentance. 3. In like manner, our Lord spokeharshly to the Syro-Phoenician woman, whose daughter He was aboutto heal, and made as if He would go further, when the two discipleshad come to their journey's end. 4. Thus too Joseph "made himselfstrange to his brethren, " and Elisha kept silence on request ofNaaman to bow in the house of Rimmon. 5. Thus St. Paul circumcisedTimothy, while he cried out "Circumcision availeth not. "

It may be said that this principle, true in itself, yet is dangerous, because it admits of an easy abuse, and carries men away into whatbecomes insincerity and cunning. This is undeniable; to do evil thatgood may come, to consider that the means, whatever they are, justifythe end, to sacrifice truth to expedience, unscrupulousness, recklessness, are grave offences. These are abuses of the economy. But to call them _economical_ is to give a fine name to what occursevery day, independent of any knowledge of the _doctrine_ of theEconomy. It is the abuse of a rule which nature suggests to everyone. Every one looks out for the "mollia tempora fandi, " and "molliaverba" too. 

Having thus explained what is meant by the economy as a rule ofsocial intercourse between men of different religious, or, again, political, or social views, next I go on to state what I said in theArians. 

I say in that volume first, that our Lord has given us the_principle_ in His own words--"Cast not your pearls before swine;"and that He exemplified it in His teaching by parables; that St. Paulexpressly distinguishes between the milk which is necessary to oneset of men, and the strong meat which is allowed to others, and that, in two Epistles. I say, that the apostles in the Acts observe thesame rule in their speeches, for it is a fact, that they do notpreach the high doctrines of Christianity, but only "Jesus and theresurrection" or "repentance and faith. " I also say, that this isthe very reason that the Fathers assign for the silence of variouswriters in the first centuries on the subject of our Lord's divinity. I also speak of the catechetical system practised in the earlyChurch, and the _disciplina arcani_ as regards the doctrine of theHoly Trinity, to which Bingham bears witness; also of the defence ofthis rule by Basil, Cyril of Jerusalem, Chrysostom, and Theodoret. 

And next the question may be asked, whether I have said anything inmy volume _to guard_ the doctrine, thus laid down, from the abuse towhich it is obviously exposed: and my answer is easy. Of course, hadI had any idea that I should have been exposed to such hostilemisrepresentations, as it has been my lot to undergo on the subject, I should have made more direct avowals than I have done of my senseof the gravity and the danger of that abuse. Since I could notforesee when I wrote, that I should have been wantonly slandered, Ionly wonder that I have anticipated the charge as fully as will beseen in the following extracts. 

For instance, speaking of the Disciplina Arcani, I say:--(1) "Theelementary information given to the heathen or catechumen was _in nosense undone_ by the subsequent secret teaching, which was in factbut the _filling up of a bare but correct outline_, " p. 58, and Icontrast this with the conduct of the Manichæans "who represented theinitiatory discipline as founded on a _fiction_ or hypothesis, whichwas to be forgotten by the learner as he made progress in the _real_doctrine of the Gospel. " (2) As to allegorising, I say that theAlexandrians erred, whenever and as far as they proceeded "to_obscure_ the primary meaning of Scripture, and to _weaken the forceof historical facts_ and express declarations, " p. 69. (3) And thatthey were "more open to _censure_, " when, on being "_urged byobjections_ to various passages in the history of the Old Testament, as derogatory to the divine perfections or to the Jewish Saints, theyhad _recourse to an allegorical explanation by way of answer_, " p. 71. (4) I add, "_It is impossible to defend such a procedure_, whichseems to imply a _want of faith_ in those who had recourse to it;"for "God has given us _rules of right and wrong_, " _ibid_. (5) Again, I say--"The _abuse of the Economy_ in _the hands of unscrupulousreasoners_, is obvious. _Even the honest_ controversialist or teacherwill find it very difficult to represent, _without misrepresenting_, what it is yet his duty to present to his hearers with caution orreserve. Here the obvious rule to guide our practice is, to becareful ever to maintain _substantial truth_ in our use of theeconomical method, " pp. 79, 80. (6) And so far from concurring at allhazards with Justin, Gregory, or Athanasius, I say, "It _is plain_[they] _were justified or not_ in their Economy, _according_ as theydid or did not _practically mislead their opponents_, " p. 80. (7) Iproceed, "It is so difficult to hit the mark in these perplexingcases, that it is not wonderful, should these or other Fathers havefailed at times, and said more or less than was proper, " _ibid_. 

The principle of the economy is familiarly acted on among us everyday. When we would persuade others, we do not begin by treading ontheir toes. Men would be thought rude who introduced their ownreligious notions into mixed society, and were devotional in adrawing-room. Have we never thought lawyers tiresome who came downfor the assizes and talked law all through dinner? Does the sameargument tell in the House of Commons, on the hustings, and at ExeterHall? Is an educated gentleman never worsted at an election by thetone and arguments of some clever fellow, who, whatever hisshortcomings in other respects, understands the common people?

As to the Catholic religion in England at the present day, this onlywill I observe--that the truest expedience is to answer right out, when you are asked; that the wisest economy is to have no management;that the best prudence is not to be a coward; that the most damagingfolly is to be found out shuffling; and that the first of virtues isto "tell truth, and shame the devil. "

8. Lying and Equivocation

This writer says, "Though [a lie] be a sin, the fact of its being avenial one seems to have gained for it as yet a very slightpenance. "--p. 46. Yet he says also that Dr. Newman takes "a perversepleasure in eccentricities, " because I say that "it is better for sunand moon to drop from heaven than that one soul should tell onewilful untruth. "--p. 30. That is, he first accuses us withoutfoundation of making light of a lie; and, when he finds that wedon't, then he calls us inconsistent. I have noticed these words ofmine, and two passages besides, which he quotes, above at pp. 222-224. Here I will but observe on the subject of venial singenerally, that he altogether forgets our doctrine of purgatory. Thispunishment may last till the day of judgment; so much for duration;then as to intensity, let the image of fire, by which we denote it, show what we think of it. Here is the expiation of venial sins. YetProtestants, after the manner of this writer, are too apt to playfast and loose; to blame us because we hold that sin may be venial, and to blame us again when we tell them what we think will be itspunishment. Blot _thirty-seven_. 

At the end of his pamphlet he makes a distinction between theCatholic clergy and gentry in England, which I know the latterconsider to be very impertinent; and he makes it apropos of a passagein one of my original letters in January. He quotes me as saying that"Catholics differ from Protestants, as to whether this or that act inparticular is conformable to the rule of truth, " p. 48; and then hegoes on to observe, that I have "calumniated the Catholic gentry, "because "there is no difference whatever, of detail or other, betweentheir truthfulness and honour, and the truthfulness and honour of theProtestant gentry among whom they live. " But again he has garbled mywords; they run thus:

"Truth is the same in itself and in substance, to Catholic andProtestant; so is purity; both virtues are to be referred to thatmoral sense which is the natural possession of us all. But, when wecome to the question in detail, whether this or that act inparticular is conformable to the rule of truth, or again to the ruleof purity, then _sometimes_ there is a difference of opinion _betweenindividuals, sometimes_ between schools, and _sometimes_ betweenreligious communions. " I knew indeed perfectly well, and I confessedthat "_Protestants_ think that the Catholic system, as such, leads toa lax observance of the rule of truth;" but I added, "I am very sorrythat they should think so, " and I never meant myself to grant thatall Protestants were on the strict side, and all Catholics on thelax. Far from it; there is a stricter party as well as a laxer partyamong Catholics, there is a laxer party as well as a stricter partyamong Protestants. I have already spoken of Protestant writers who incertain cases allow of lying, I have also spoken of Catholic writerswho do not allow of equivocation; when I wrote "a difference ofopinion between individuals, " and "between schools, " I meant betweenProtestant and Protestant, and particular instances were in my mind. I did not say then, or dream of saying, that Catholics, priests andlaity, were lax on the point of lying, and that Protestants werestrict, any more than I meant to say that all Catholics were pure, and all Protestants impure; but I meant to say that, whereas the ruleof truth is one and the same both to Catholic and Protestant, nevertheless some Catholics were lax, some strict, and again someProtestants were strict, some lax; and I have already hadopportunities of recording my own judgment on which side this writeris _himself_, and therefore he may keep his forward vindication of"honest gentlemen and noble ladies, " who, in spite of their priests, are still so truthful, till such time as he can find a worseassailant of them than I am, and they no better champion of them thanhimself. And as to the Priests of England, those who know them, as hedoes _not_, will pronounce them no whit inferior in this great virtueto the gentry, whom he says that he _does_; and I cannot say more. Blot _thirty-eight_. 

Lastly, this writer uses the following words, which I have more thanonce quoted, and with a reference to them I shall end my remarks uponhim. "I am henceforth, " he says, "in doubt and fear, as much as _anhonest man can be_, concerning every word Dr. Newman may write. Howcan 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 blessedSt. Alfonso da Liguori and his pupils, even when confirmed with anoath. .. ?"

I will tell him why he need not fear; because he has _left out_ onevery important condition in the statement of St. Alfonso--and veryapplicable to my own case, even if I followed St. Alfonso's view ofthe subject. St. Alfonso says "_ex justâ causâ_;" but our "honestman, " as he styles himself, has _omitted these words_; which are akey to the whole question. Blot _thirty-nine_. Here endeth our"honest man. " Now for the subject of lying. 

Almost all authors, Catholic and Protestant, admit, that _when a justcause is present_, there is some kind or other of verbal misleading, which is not sin. Even silence is in certain cases virtually such amisleading, according to the proverb, "Silence gives consent. " Again, silence is absolutely forbidden to a Catholic, as a mortal sin, undercertain circumstances, _e. G. _ to keep silence, instead of making aprofession of faith. 

Another mode of verbal misleading, and the most direct, is actuallysaying the thing that is not; and it is defended on the principlethat such words are not a lie, when there is a "justa causa, " askilling is not murder in the case of an executioner. 

Another ground of certain authors for saying that an untruth is not alie where there is a just cause, is, that veracity is a kind ofjustice, and therefore, when we have no duty of justice to tell truthto another, it is no sin not to do so. Hence we may say the thingthat is not, to children, to madmen, to men who ask impertinentquestions, to those whom we hope to benefit by misleading. 

Another ground, taken in defending certain untruths, _ex justâcausâ_, as if not lies, is that veracity is for the sake of society, and, if in no case we might lawfully mislead others, we shouldactually be doing society great harm. 

Another mode of verbal misleading is equivocation or a play uponwords; and it is defended on the view that to lie is to use words ina sense which they will not bear. But an equivocator uses them in areceived sense, though there is another received sense, andtherefore, according to this definition, he does not lie. 

Others say that all equivocations are, after all, a kind of lying, faint lies or awkward lies, but still lies; and some of thesedisputants infer, that therefore we must not equivocate, and othersthat equivocation is but a half measure, and that it is better to sayat once that in certain cases untruths are not lies. 

Others will try to distinguish between evasions and equivocations;but they will be answered, that, though there are evasions which areclearly not equivocations, yet that it is difficult scientifically todraw the line between them. 

To these must be added the unscientific way of dealing with lies, viz. That on a great or cruel occasion a man cannot help telling alie, and he would not be a man, did he not tell it, but still it iswrong and he ought not to do it, and he must trust that the sin willbe forgiven him, though he goes about to commit it. It is a frailty, and had better not be anticipated, and not thought of again, afterit is once over. This view cannot for a moment be defended, but, Isuppose, it is very common. 

And now I think the historical course of thought upon the matter hasbeen this: the Greek Fathers thought that, when there was a _justacausa_, an untruth need not be a lie. St. Augustine took anotherview, though with great misgiving; and, whether he is rightlyinterpreted or not, is the doctor of the great and common view thatall untruths are lies, and that there can be _no_ just cause ofuntruth. In these later times, this doctrine has been found difficultto work, and it has been largely taught that, though all untruths arelies, yet that certain equivocations, when there is a just cause, arenot untruths. 

Further, there have been and all along through these later ages, other schools, running parallel with the above mentioned, one ofwhich says that equivocations, etc. After all _are_ lies, and anotherwhich says that there are untruths which are not lies. 

And now as to the "just cause, " which is the condition, _sine quânon_. The Greek Fathers make them such as these, self-defence, charity, zeal for God's honour, and the like. 

St. Augustine seems to deal with the same "just causes" as the GreekFathers, even though he does not allow of their availableness asdepriving untruths, spoken with such objects, of their sinfulness. Hementions defence of life and of honour, and the safe custody of asecret. Also the Anglican writers, who have followed the GreekFathers, in defending untruths when there is the "just cause, "consider that just cause to be such as the preservation of life andproperty, defence of law, the good of others. Moreover, their moralrights, _e. G. _ defence against the inquisitive, etc. 

St. Alfonso, I consider, would take the same view of the "justacausa" as the Anglican divines; he speaks of it as "quicunque finis_honestus_, ad servanda bona spiritui vel corpori utilia;" which isvery much the view which they take of it, judging by the instanceswhich they give. 

In all cases, however, and as contemplated by all authors, Clement ofAlexandria, or Milton, or St. Alfonso, such a causa is, in fact, extreme, rare, great, or at least special. Thus the writer in theMélanges Théologiques (Liège, 1852-3, p. 453) quotes Lessius:"Si absque justa causa fiat, est abusio orationis contra virtutemveritatis, et civilem consuetudinem, etsi proprie non sit mendacium. "That is, the virtue of truth, and the civil custom, are the _measure_of the just cause. And so Voit, "If a man has used a reservation(restrictione non purè mentali) without a _grave_ cause, he hassinned gravely. " And so the author himself, from whom I quote, and who defends the Patristic and Anglican doctrine that thereare untruths which are not lies, says, "Under the name of mentalreservation theologians authorise many lies, _when there is for thema grave reason_ and proportionate, " _i. E. _ to their character--p. 459. And so St. Alfonso, in another treatise, quotes St. Thomas tothe effect, that, if from one cause two immediate effects follow, and, if the good effect of that cause is _equal in value_ to the badeffect (bonus _æquivalet_ malo), then nothing hinders that the goodmay be intended and the evil permitted. From which it will followthat, since the evil to society from lying is very great, the justcause which is to make it allowable, must be very great also. Andso Kenrick: "It is confessed by all Catholics that, in the commonintercourse of life, all ambiguity of language is to be avoided; butit is debated whether such ambiguity is ever lawful. Most theologiansanswer in the affirmative, supposing a _grave cause_ urges, and the[true] mind of the speaker can be collected from the adjuncts, thoughin fact it be not collected. "

However, there are cases, I have already said, of another kind, inwhich Anglican authors would think a lie allowable; such as when aquestion is _impertinent_. Accordingly, I think the best word forembracing all the cases which would come under the "justa causa, " is, not "extreme, " but "special, " and I say the same as regards St. Alfonso; and therefore, above in pp. 242 and 244, whether I speak ofSt. Alfonso or Paley, I should have used the word "special, " or"extraordinary, " not "extreme. "

What I have been saying shows what different schools of opinion thereare in the Church in the treatment of this difficult doctrine; and, by consequence, that a given individual, such as I am, _cannot_ agreewith all, and has a full right to follow which he will. The freedomof the schools, indeed, is one of those rights of reason, which theChurch is too wise really to interfere with. And this applies not tomoral questions only, but to dogmatic also. 

It is supposed by Protestants that, because St. Alfonso's writingshave had such high commendation bestowed upon them by authority, therefore they have been invested with a quasi-infallibility. Thishas arisen in good measure from Protestants not knowing the forceof theological terms. The words to which they refer are theauthoritative decision that "nothing in his works has been found_worthy of censure_, " "censurâ dignum;" but this does not lead to theconclusions which have been drawn from it. Those words occur in alegal document, and cannot be interpreted except in a legal sense. Inthe first place, the sentence is negative; nothing in St. Alfonso'swritings is positively approved; and secondly it is not said thatthere are no faults in what he has written, but nothing which comesunder the ecclesiastical _censura_, which is something very definite. To take and interpret them, in the way commonly adopted in England, is the same mistake, as if one were to take the word "apologia" inthe English sense of apology, or "infant" in law to mean a littlechild. 

1. Now first as to the meaning of the form of words viewed as aproposition. When they were brought before the fitting authorities atRome by the Archbishop of Besançon, the answer returned to himcontained the condition that those words were to be interpreted, "with due regard to the mind of the Holy See concerning theapprobation of writings of the servants of God, ad effectumCanonisationis. " This is intended to prevent any Catholic taking thewords about St. Alfonso's works in too large a sense. Before a saintis canonised, his works are examined and a judgment pronounced uponthem. Pope Benedict XIV. Says, "The _end_ or _scope_ of this judgmentis, that it may appear, whether the doctrine of the servant of God, which he has brought out in his writings, is free from any soever_theological censure_. " And he remarks in addition, "It never can besaid that the doctrine of a servant of God is _approved_ by the HolySee, but at most it can [only] be said that it is not disapproved(non reprobatam) in case that the revisers had reported that there isnothing found by them in his works, which is adverse to the decreesof Urban VIII. , and that the judgment of the Revisers has beenapproved by the sacred Congregation, and confirmed by the SupremePontiff. " The Decree of Urban VIII. Here referred to is, "Let worksbe examined, whether they contain errors against faith or good morals(bonos mores), or any new doctrine, or a doctrine foreign and aliento the common sense and custom of the Church. " The author from whom Iquote this (M. Vandenbroeck, of the diocese of Malines) observes, "Itis therefore clear, that the approbation of the works of the HolyBishop touches not the truth of every proposition, adds nothing tothem, nor even gives them by consequence a degree of intrinsicprobability. " He adds that it gives St. Alfonso's theology anextrinsic probability, from the fact that, in the judgment of theHoly See, no proposition deserves to receive a censure; but that"that probability will cease nevertheless in a particular case, forany one who should be convinced, whether by evident arguments, or bya decree of the Holy See, or otherwise, that the doctrine of theSaint deviates from the truth. " He adds, "From the fact that theapprobation of the works of St. Alfonso does not decide the truth ofeach proposition, it follows, as Benedict XIV. Has remarked, that wemay combat the doctrine which they contain; only, since a canonisedsaint is in question, who is honoured by a solemn _culte_ in theChurch, we ought not to speak except with respect, nor to attack hisopinions except with temper and modesty. "

2. Then, as to the meaning of the word _censura_: Benedict XIV. Enumerates a number of "Notes" which come under that name; he says, "Out of propositions which are to be noted with theological censure, some are heretical, some erroneous, some close upon error, somesavouring of heresy, " and so on; and each of these terms has its owndefinite meaning. Thus by "erroneous" is meant, according to Viva, aproposition which is not _immediately_ opposed to a revealedproposition, but only to a theological _conclusion_ drawn frompremisses which are _de fide_; "savouring of heresy, " when aproposition is opposed to a theological conclusion not evidentlydrawn from premisses which are _de fide_, but most probably andaccording to the common mode of theologising, and so with the rest. Therefore when it was said by the revisers of St. Alfonso's worksthat they were not "worthy of _censure_, " it was only meant that theydid not fall under these particular Notes. 

But the answer from Rome to the Archbishop of Besançon went furtherthan this; it actually took pains to declare that any one who pleasedmight follow other theologians instead of St. Alfonso. After sayingthat no priest was to be interfered with who followed St. Alfonso inthe Confessional, it added, "This is said, however, without on thataccount judging that they are reprehended who follow opinions handeddown by other approved authors. "

And this too, I will observe, that St. Alfonso made many changes ofopinion himself in the course of his writings; and it could notfor an instant be supposed that we were bound to every one of hisopinions, when he did not feel himself bound to them in his ownperson. And, what is more to the purpose still, there are opinions, or some opinion, of his which actually has been proscribed by theChurch since, and cannot now be put forward or used. I do not pretendto be a well-read theologian myself, but I say this on the authorityof a theological professor of Breda, quoted in the Mélanges Théol. For 1850-1. He says: "It may happen, that, in the course of time, errors may be found in the works of St. Alfonso and be proscribed bythe Church, _a thing which in fact has already occurred_. "

In not ranging myself then with those who consider that it isjustifiable to use words in a double sense, that is, to equivocate, Iput myself, first, under the protection of Cardinal Gerdil, who, in awork lately published at Rome, has the following passage, which I oweto the kindness of a friend:

Gerdil

"In an oath one ought to have respect to the intention of the partyswearing, and the intention of the party to whom the oath is taken. Whoso swears binds himself in virtue of the words, not according tothe sense he retains in his own mind, but _in the sense according towhich he perceives that they are understood by him to whom the oathis made_. When the mind of the one is discordant with the mind of theother, if this happens by deceit or cheat of the party swearing, heis bound to observe the oath according to the right sense (sanamente) of the party receiving it; but, when the discrepancy inthe sense comes of misunderstanding, without deceit of the partyswearing, in that case he is not bound, except to that to which hehad in mind to wish to be bound. It follows hence, that _whoso usesmental reservation or equivocation in the oath_, in order to deceivethe party to whom he offers it, _sins most grievously_, and is alwaysbound to observe the oath _in the sense in which he knew that hiswords were_ taken by the other party, according to the decision ofSt. Augustine, 'They are perjured, who, having kept the words, havedeceived the expectations of those to whom the oath was taken. ' Hewho swears externally, without the inward intention of swearing, commits a most grave sin, and remains all the same under theobligation to fulfil it. .. . In a word, all that is contrary to goodfaith, is iniquitous, and by introducing the name of God the iniquityis aggravated by the guilt of sacrilege. "

Natalis Alexander

"They certainly lie, who utter the words of an oath, and without thewill to swear or bind themselves; or who _make use of mentalreservations and equivocations_ in swearing, since they signify bywords what they have not in mind, contrary to the end for whichlanguage was instituted, viz. As signs of ideas. Or they meansomething else than the words signify in themselves, and thecommon custom of speech, and the circumstances of persons andbusiness-matters; and thus they abuse words which were instituted forthe cherishing of society. "

Contenson

"Hence is apparent how worthy of condemnation is the temerity ofthose half-taught men, who give a colour to lies and _equivocations_by the words and instances of Christ. Than whose doctrine, which isan art of deceiving, nothing can be more pestilent. And that, bothbecause what you do not wish done to yourself, you should not do toanother; now the patrons of equivocations and mental reservationswould not like to be themselves deceived by others, etc. .. . And alsobecause St. Augustine, etc. .. . In truth, as there is no pleasantliving with those whose language we do not understand, and, as St. Augustine teaches, a man would more readily live with his dog thanwith a foreigner, less pleasant certainly is our converse with thosewho make use of frauds artificially covered, overreach their hearersby deceits, address them insidiously, observe the right moment, andcatch at words to their purpose, by which truth is hidden under acovering; and so on the other hand nothing is sweeter than thesociety of those, who both love and speak the naked truth, . .. Without their mouth professing one thing and their mind hidinganother, or spreading before it the cover of double words. Nor doesit matter that they colour their lies with the name of _equivocationsor mental reservations_. For Hilary says, 'The sense, not the speech, makes the crime. '"

Concina allows of what I shall presently call _evasions_, but nothingbeyond, if I understand him; but he is most vehement against mentalreservation of every kind, so I quote him. 

Concina

"That mode of speech, which some theologians call pure mentalreservation, others call reservation not simply mental; that languagewhich to me is lying, to the greater part of recent authors is onlyamphibological. .. . I have discovered that nothing is adduced by morerecent theologians for the lawful use of _amphibologies_ which hasnot been made use of already by the ancients, whether philosophers orsome Fathers, in defence of lies. Nor does there seem to me otherdifference when I consider their respective grounds, except that theancients frankly called those modes of speech lies, and the morerecent writers, not a few of them, call them amphibological, equivocal, and _material_. "

In another place he quotes Caramuel, so I suppose I may do so too, for the very reason that his theological reputation does not placehim on the side of strictness. Concina says, "Caramuel himself, whobore away the palm from all others in relaxing the evangelical andnatural law, says:

Caramuel

"I have an innate aversion to mental reservations. If they arecontained within the bounds of piety and sincerity, then they are notnecessary; . .. But if [otherwise] they are the destruction of humansociety and sincerity, and are to be condemned as pestilent. Onceadmitted, they open the way to all lying, all perjury. And the wholedifference in the matter is, that what yesterday was called a lie, changing, not its nature and malice, but its name, is today entitled'mental reservation;' and this is to sweeten poison with sugar, andto colour guilt with the appearance of virtue. "

St. Thomas

"When the sense of the party swearing, and of the party to whom heswears, is not the same, if this proceeds from the deceit of theformer, the oath ought to be kept according to the right sense of theparty to whom it is made. But if the party swearing does not make useof deceit, then he is bound according to his own sense. "

St. Isidore

"With whatever artifice of words a man swears, nevertheless God whois the witness of his conscience, so takes the oath as he understandsit, to whom it is sworn. And he becomes twice guilty, who both takesthe name of God in vain, and deceives his neighbour. "

St. Augustine

"I do not question that this is most justly laid down, that thepromise of an oath must be fulfilled, not according to the words ofthe party taking it, but according to the expectation of the party towhom it is taken, of which he who takes it is aware. "

And now, under the protection of these authorities, I say asfollows:--

Casuistry is a noble science, but it is one to which I am led, neither by my abilities nor my turn of mind. Independently, then, ofthe difficulties of the subject, and the necessity, before formingan opinion, of knowing more of the arguments of theologians upon itthan I do, I am very unwilling to say a word here on the subject oflying and equivocation. But I consider myself bound to speak; andtherefore, in this strait, I can do nothing better, even for my ownrelief, than submit myself and what I shall say to the judgment ofthe Church, and to the consent, so far as in this matter there be aconsent, of the Schola Theologorum. 

Now, in the case of one of those special and rare exigencies oremergencies, which constitute the _justa causa_ of dissembling ormisleading, whether it be extreme as the defence of life, or a dutyas the custody of a secret, or of a personal nature as to repel animpertinent inquirer, or a matter too trivial to provoke question, asin dealing with children or madmen, there seem to be four courses:

1. _To say the thing that is not_. Here I draw the reader's attentionto the words _material_ and _formal_. "Thou shalt not kill;" _murder_is the _formal_ transgression of this commandment, but _accidentalhomicide_ is the _material_ transgression. The _matter_ of the act isthe same in both cases; but in the _homicide_, there is nothing morethan the act, whereas in _murder_ there must be the intention, etc. Which constitutes the formal sin. So, again, an executioner commitsthe material act, but not that formal killing which is a breach ofthe commandment. So a man, who, simply to save himself from starving, takes a loaf which is not his own, commits only the material, not theformal act of stealing, that is, he does not commit a sin. And so abaptised Christian, external to the Church, who is in invincibleignorance, is a material heretic, and not a formal. And in likemanner, if to say the thing which is not be in special cases lawful, it may be called a _material lie_. 

The first mode then which has been suggested of meeting those specialcases, in which to mislead by words has a sufficient object, or has a_just cause_, is by a material lie. 

The second mode is by an _æquivocatio_, which is not equivalent tothe English word "equivocation, " but means sometimes a _play uponwords_, sometimes an _evasion_. 

2. _A play upon words_. St. Alfonso certainly says that a play uponwords is allowable; and, speaking under correction, I should say thathe does so on the ground that lying is _not_ a sin against justice, that is, against our neighbour, but a sin against God; because wordsare the signs of ideas, and therefore if a word denotes two ideas, weare at liberty to use it in either of its senses: but I think I mustbe incorrect here in some respect, because the Catechism of theCouncil, as I have quoted it at p. 248, says, "Vanitate et mendaciofides ac veritas tolluntur, arctissima vincula _societatis humanæ_;quibus sublatis, sequitur summa vitæ _confusio_, ut _homines nihil adæmonibus differre videantur_. "

3. _Evasion_;--when, for instance, the speaker diverts the attentionof the hearer to another subject; suggests an irrelevant fact ormakes a remark, which confuses him and gives him something to thinkabout; throws dust into his eyes; states some truth, from which he isquite sure his hearer will draw an illogical and untrue conclusion, and the like. Bishop Butler seems distinctly to sanction such aproceeding, in a passage which I shall extract below. 

The greatest school of evasion, I speak seriously, is the House ofCommons; and necessarily so, from the nature of the case. And thehustings is another. 

An instance is supplied in the history of St. Athanasius: he was in aboat on the Nile, flying persecution; and he found himself pursued. On this he ordered his men to turn his boat round, and ran right tomeet the satellites of Julian. They asked him, Have you seenAthanasius? and he told his followers to answer, "Yes, he is close toyou. " _They_ went on their course, and _he_ ran into Alexandria, andthere lay hid till the end of the persecution. 

I gave another instance above, in reference to a doctrine ofreligion. The early Christians did their best to conceal their Creedon account of the misconceptions of the heathen about it. Were thequestion asked of them, "Do you worship a Trinity?" and did theyanswer, "We worship one God, and none else;" the inquirer might, orwould, infer that they did not acknowledge the Trinity of DivinePersons. 

It is very difficult to draw the line between these evasions, andwhat are commonly called in English _equivocations_; and of thisdifficulty, again, I think, the scenes in the House of Commons supplyus with illustrations. 

4. The fourth method is _silence_. For instance, not giving the_whole_ truth in a court of law. If St. Alban, after dressing himselfin the priest's clothes, and being taken before the persecutor, hadbeen able to pass off for his friend, and so gone to martyrdomwithout being discovered; and had he in the course of examinationanswered all questions truly, but not given the whole truth, the mostimportant truth, that he was the wrong person, he would have comevery near to telling a lie, for a half-truth is often a falsehood. And his defence must have been the _justa causa_, viz. Either that hemight in charity or for religion's sake save a priest, or again thatthe judge had no right to interrogate him on the subject. 

Now, of these four modes of misleading others by the tongue, whenthere is a _justa causa_ (supposing there can be such)--a materiallie, that is an untruth which is not a lie, an equivocation, anevasion, and silence, --First, I have no difficulty whatever inrecognizing as allowable the method of _silence_. 

Secondly, But, if I allow of _silence_, why not of the method of_material lying_, since half of a truth _is_ often a lie? And, again, if all killing be not murder, nor all taking from another stealing, why must all untruths be lies? Now I will say freely that I think itdifficult to answer this question, whether it be urged by St. Clementor by Milton; at the same time, I never have acted, and I think, whenit came to the point, I never should act upon such a theory myself, except in one case, stated below. This I say for the benefit of thosewho speak hardly of Catholic theologians, on the ground that theyadmit text-books which allow of equivocation. They are asked, how canwe trust you, when such are your views? but such views, as I alreadyhave said, need not have anything to do with their own practice, merely from the circumstance that they are contained in theirtext-books. A theologian draws out a system; he does it partly as ascientific speculation: but much more for the sake of others. He islax for the sake of others, not of himself. His own standard ofaction is much higher than that which he imposes upon men in general. One special reason why religious men, after drawing out a theory, areunwilling to act upon it themselves, is this: that they practicallyacknowledge a broad distinction between their reason and theirconscience; and that they feel the latter to be the safer guide, though the former may be the clearer, nay even though it be thetruer. They would rather be wrong with their conscience, than rightwith their reason. And again here is this more tangible difficulty inthe case of exceptions to the rule of veracity, that so very littleexternal help is given us in drawing the line, as to when untruthsare allowable and when not; whereas that sort of killing which is notmurder, is most definitely marked off by legal enactments, so that itcannot possibly be mistaken for such killing as _is_ murder. On theother hand the cases of exemption from the rule of Veracity are leftto the private judgment of the individual, and he may easily be ledon from acts which are allowable to acts which are not. Now thisremark does _not_ apply to such acts as are related in Scripture, asbeing done by a particular inspiration, for in such cases there _is_a command. If I had my own way, I would oblige society, that is, itsgreat men, its lawyers, its divines, its literature, publicly toacknowledge, as such, those instances of untruth which are not lies, as for instance, untruths in war; and then there could be no dangerin them to the individual Catholic, for he would be acting under arule. 

Thirdly, as to playing upon words, or equivocation, I suppose it isfrom the English habit, but, without meaning any disrespect to agreat Saint, or wishing to set myself up, or taking my conscience formore than it is worth, I can only say as a fact, that I admit it aslittle as the rest of my countrymen: and, without any reference tothe right and the wrong of the matter, of this I am sure, that, ifthere is one thing more than another which prejudices Englishmenagainst the Catholic Church, it is the doctrine of great authoritieson the subject of equivocation. For myself, I can fancy myselfthinking it was allowable in extreme cases for me to lie, but neverto equivocate. Luther said, "Pecca fortiter. " I anathematise theformal sentiment, but there is a truth in it, when spoken of materialacts. 

Fourthly, I think _evasion_, as I have described it, to be perfectlyallowable; indeed, I do not know, who does not use it, undercircumstances; but that a good deal of moral danger is attached toits use; and that, the cleverer a man is, the more likely he is topass the line of Christian duty. 

But it may be said, that such decisions do not meet the particulardifficulties for which provision is required; let us then take someinstances. 

1. I do not think it right to tell lies to children, even on thisaccount, that they are sharper than we think them, and will soon findout what we are doing; and our example will be a very bad trainingfor them. And so of equivocation: it is easy of imitation, and weourselves shall be sure to get the worst of it in the end. 

2. If an early Father defends the patriarch Jacob in his mode ofgaining his father's blessing, on the ground that the blessing wasdivinely pledged to him already, that it was his, and that his fatherand brother were acting at once against his own rights and the divinewill, it does not follow from this that such conduct is a pattern tous, who have no supernatural means of determining _when_ an untruthbecomes a _material_ and not a _formal_ lie. It seems to me verydangerous, be it allowable or not, to lie or equivocate in order topreserve some great temporal or spiritual benefit, nor does St. Alfonso here say anything to the contrary, for he is not discussingthe question of danger or expedience. 

3. As to Johnson's case of a murderer asking you which way a man hadgone, I should have anticipated that, had such a difficulty happenedto him, his first act would have been to knock the man down, and tocall out for the police; and next, if he was worsted in the conflict, he would not have given the ruffian the information he asked, atwhatever risk to himself. I think he would have let himself be killedfirst. I do not think that he would have told a lie. 

4. A secret is a more difficult case. Supposing something has beenconfided to me in the strictest secrecy, which could not be revealedwithout great disadvantage to another, what am I to do? If I am alawyer, I am protected by my profession. I have a right to treat withextreme indignation any question which trenches on the inviolabilityof my position; but, supposing I was driven up into a corner, I thinkI should have a right to say an untruth, or that, under suchcircumstances, a lie would be _material_, but it is almost animpossible case, for the law would defend me. In like manner, as apriest, I should think it lawful to speak as if I knew nothing ofwhat passed in confession. And I think in these cases, I do in factpossess that guarantee, that I am not going by private judgment, which just now I demanded; for society would bear me out, whether asa lawyer or as a priest, that I had a duty to my client or penitent, such, that an untruth in the matter was not a lie. A common type ofthis permissible denial, be it _material lie_ or _evasion_, is at themoment supplied to me: an artist asked a Prime Minister, who wassitting to him, "What news, my Lord, from France?" He answered, "_I do not know_; I have not read the Papers. "

5. A more difficult question is, when to accept confidence has notbeen a duty. Supposing a man wishes to keep the secret that he isthe author of a book, and he is plainly asked on the subject. HereI should ask the previous question, whether any one has a rightto publish what he dare not avow. It requires to have traced thebearings and results of such a principle, before being sure of it;but certainly, for myself, I am no friend of strictly anonymouswriting. Next, supposing another has confided to you the secret ofhis authorship: there are persons who would have no scruple at all ingiving a denial to impertinent questions asked them on the subject. Ihave heard a great man in his day at Oxford, warmly contend, as if hecould not enter into any other view of the matter, that, if he hadbeen trusted by a friend with the secret of his being author of acertain book, and he were asked by a third person, if his friend wasnot (as he really was) the author of it, he ought without any scrupleand distinctly to answer that he did not know. He had an existingduty towards the author; he had none towards his inquirer. The authorhad a claim on him; an impertinent questioner had none at all. Buthere again I desiderate some leave, recognised by society, as in thecase of the formulas "Not at home, " and "Not guilty, " in order togive me the right of saying what is a _material_ untruth. Andmoreover, I should here also ask the previous question, Have I anyright to accept such a confidence? have I any right to make such apromise? and, if it be an unlawful promise, is it binding at theexpense of a lie? I am not attempting to solve these difficultquestions, but they have to be carefully examined. 

As I put into print some weeks ago various extracts from authorsrelating to the subject which I have been considering, I conclude byinserting them here, though they will not have a very methodicalappearance. 

For instance, St. Dorotheus: "Sometimes the _necessity_ of somematter urges (incumbit), which, unless you somewhat conceal anddissemble it, will turn into a greater trouble. " And he goes on tomention the case of saving a man who has committed homicide from hispursuers: and he adds that it is not a thing that can be done often, but once in a long time. 

St. Clement in like manner speaks of it only as a necessity, and as anecessary medicine. 

Origen, after saying that God's commandment makes it a plain duty tospeak the truth, adds, that a man, "when necessity urges, " may availhimself of a lie, as medicine, that is, to the extent of Judith'sconduct towards Holofernes; and he adds that that necessity may bethe obtaining of a great good, as Jacob hindered his father fromgiving the blessing to Esau against the will of God. 

Cassian says, that the use of a lie, in order to be allowable, mustbe like the use of hellebore, which is itself poison, unless a manhas a fatal disease on him. He adds, "Without the condition of anextreme necessity, it is a present ruin. "

St. John Chrysostom defends Jacob on the ground that his deceivinghis father was not done for the sake of temporal gain, but in orderto fulfil the providential purpose of God; and he says, that, asAbraham was not a murderer, though he was minded to kill his son, soan untruth need not be a lie. And he adds, that often such a deceitis the greatest possible benefit to the man who is deceived, andtherefore allowable. Also St. Hilary, St. John Climacus, etc. , inThomassin, Concina, the _Mélanges_, etc. 

Various modern Catholic divines hold this doctrine of the "materiallie" also. I will quote three passages in point. 

Cataneo: "Be it then well understood, that the obligation toveracity, that is, of conforming our words to the sentiments of ourmind, is founded principally upon the necessity of human intercourse, for which reason they (_i. E. _ words) ought not and cannot be lawfullyopposed to this end, so just, so necessary, and so important, withoutwhich, the world would become a Babylon of confusion. And this wouldin a great measure be really the result, as often as a man should beunable to defend secrets of high importance, and other evils wouldfollow, even worse than confusion, in their nature destructive ofthis very intercourse between man and man for which speech wasinstituted. Every body must see the advantage a hired assassin wouldhave, if supposing he did not know by sight the person he wascommissioned to kill, I being asked by the rascal at the moment hewas standing in doubt with his gun cocked, were obliged to approve ofhis deed by keeping silence, or to hesitate, or lastly to answer'Yes, that is the man. ' [Then follow other similar cases. ] In suchand similar cases, in which your sincerity is unjustly assailed, whenno other way more prompt or more efficacious presents itself, andwhen it is not enough to say, 'I do not know, ' let such persons bemet openly with a downright resolute 'No' without thinking uponanything else. For such a 'No' is conformable to the universalopinion of men, who are the judges of words, and who certainly havenot placed upon them obligations to the injury of the Human Republic, nor ever entered into a compact to use them in behalf of rascals, spies, incendiaries, and thieves. I repeat that such a 'No' isconformable to the universal mind of man, and with this mind your ownmind ought to be in union and alliance. Who does not see the manifestadvantage which highway robbers would derive, were travellers whenasked if they had gold, jewels, etc. , obliged either to inventtergiversations or to answer 'Yes, we have?' Accordingly in suchcircumstances that 'No' which you utter [see Card. Pallav. Lib. Iii. C. Xi. N. 23, de Fide, Spe, etc. ] remains deprived of its propermeaning, and is like a piece of coin, from which by the command ofthe government the current value has been withdrawn, so that by usingit you become in no sense guilty of lying. "

Bolgeni says, "We have therefore proved satisfactorily, and with morethan moral certainty, that an _exception_ occurs to the general lawof not speaking untruly, viz. When it is impossible to observe acertain other precept, more important, _without_ telling a lie. Somepersons indeed say, that in the cases of impossibility which areabove drawn out, what is said is _not_ a lie. But a man who thusspeaks confuses ideas and denies the essential characters of things. What is a lie? It is 'locutio contra mentem;' this is its commondefinition. But in the cases of impossibility, a man speaks _contramentem_; that is clear and evident. Therefore he tells a lie. Let usdistinguish between the lie and the sin. In the above cases, the manreally tells a lie, but this lie is not a sin, by reason of theexisting impossibility. To say that in those cases no one has a rightto ask, that the words have a meaning according to the common consentof men, and the like, as is said by certain authors in order in thosecases to exempt the lie from sin, this is to commit oneself tofrivolous excuses, and to subject oneself to a number of retorts, when there is the plain reason of the above-mentioned fact ofimpossibility. "

And the Author in the _Mélanges Théologiques_: "We have then gainedthis truth, and it is a conclusion of which we have not the smallestdoubt, that if the intention of deceiving our neighbour is essentialto a lie, it is allowable in certain cases to say what we know to befalse, as, _e. G. _ to escape from a great danger. .. . 

"But, let no one be alarmed, it is never allowable to lie; in this weare in perfect agreement with the whole body of theologians. The onlypoint in which we differ from them is in what we mean by a lie. Theycall that a lie which is not such in our view, or rather, if youwill, what in our view is only a material lie they account to be bothformal and material. "

Now to come to Anglican authorities. 

Taylor: "Whether it can in any case be lawful to tell a lie? To thisI answer, that the holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testamentdo indefinitely and severely forbid lying. Prov. Xiii. 5; xxx. 8. Ps. V. 6. John viii. 44. Col. Iii. 9. Rev. Xxi. 8, 27. Beyond thesethings, nothing can be said in condemnation of lying. 

"_But then_ lying is to be understood to be _something said orwritten to the hurt of our neighbour_, which cannot be understoodotherwise than to differ from the mind of him that speaks. 'A lie ispetulantly or from a desire of hurting, to say one thing, or tosignify it by gesture, and to think another thing;'[6] so Melancthon, 'To lie is to deceive our neighbour to his hurt. ' For _in this sense_a lie is naturally or _intrinsically_ evil; that is, to speak a lie_to our neighbour_ is naturally evil . .. _not_ because it isdifferent from an eternal truth. .. . A lie is an _injury_ to ourneighbour. .. . There is in mankind a universal _contract_ implied inall their intercourses. .. . _In justice_ we are bound to speak, so asthat our neighbour do not lose his _right_, which by our speaking wegive him to the truth, that is, in our heart. And of a lie, _thusdefined_, which is _injurious_ to our neighbour, so long as his_right_ to truth remains, it is that St. Austin affirms it to besimply unlawful, and that it can in no case be permitted, nisi forteregulas quasdam daturus es. .. . If a lie be _unjust_, it can neverbecome lawful; but, _if it can be separate from injustice_, then itmay be _innocent_. Here then I consider

"This right, though it be regularly and commonly belonging to allmen, yet it may be _taken away_ by a superior right intervening; orit may be lost, or it may be hindered, or it may cease, upon agreater reason. 

"Therefore upon this account it was lawful for the children of Israelto borrow jewels of the Egyptians, _which supposes a promise ofrestitution, though they intended not to pry them back again_. Godgave commandment so to spoil them, and the Egyptians were divested oftheir _rights_, and _were to be used like enemies_. 

"_It is lawful to tell a lie to children or to madmen_; because they, having no powers of judging, have no _right_ to truth; but then, _thelie must be charitable and useful_. .. . _If a lie be told_, it must besuch as is _for their good_ . .. And so do physicians to theirpatients. .. . This and the like were so usual, so permitted tophysicians, that it grew to a proverb, 'You lie like a doctor;'[7]which yet was always to be understood in the way of charity, and withhonour to the profession. .. . To tell a lie for charity, to save aman's life, the life of a friend, of a husband, of a prince, of auseful and a public person, hath not only been done at all times, butcommended by great and wise and good men. .. . Who would not save hisfather's life . .. At the charge of a _harmless lie_, from the rage ofpersecutors or tyrants? . .. When the telling of a truth will certainlybe the cause of evil to a man, though he have right to truth, yet itmust not be given to him to his harm. .. . _Every_ truth is no more_justice_, than every restitution of a straw to the right owner is aduty. 'Be not over-righteous, ' says Solomon. .. . If it be objected, that we must not tell a lie for God, therefore much less for ourbrother, I answer, that it does not follow; for God needs not a lie, _but our brother does_. .. . _Deceiving_ the enemy by the stratagem ofactions or _words_, is _not properly lying_; for this supposes aconversation, of law or peace, trust or _promise_ explicit orimplicit. A lie is a deceiving of a _trust or confidence_. "--Taylor, vol. Xiii. Pp. 351-371, ed. Heber. 

It is clear that Taylor thought that veracity was one branch ofjustice; a social virtue; under the second table of the law, notunder the first; only binding, when those to whom we speak have aclaim of justice upon us, which ordinarily all men have. Accordingly, in cases where a neighbour has no claim of justice upon us, there isno opportunity of exercising veracity, as, for instance, when he ismad, or is deceived by us for his own advantage. And hence, in suchcases, a lie is _not really_ a lie, as he says in one place, "Deceiving the enemy is _not properly_ lying. " Here he seems to makethat distinction common to Catholics; viz. Between what they call a_material_ act and a _formal_ act. Thus Taylor would maintain, thatto say the thing that is not to a madman, has the _matter_ of a lie, but the man who says it as little tells a formal lie, as the judge, sheriff, or executioner murders the man whom he certainly kills byforms of law. 

Other English authors take precisely the same view, viz. Thatveracity is a kind of justice--that our neighbour generally has a_right_ to have the truth told him; but that he may forfeit thatright, or lose it for the time, and then to say the thing that is notto him is no sin against veracity, that is, no lie. Thus Milton says, "Veracity is a virtue, by which we speak true things to him _to whomit_ is equitable, and concerning what things it is suitable for the_good of our neighbour_. .. . All dissimulation is not wrong, for it isnot necessary for us always openly to bring out the truth; that onlyis blamed which is _malicious_. .. . I do not see why that cannot besaid of lying which can be said of homicide and other matters, whichare not weighed so much by the _deed_ as by _the object and end ofacting_. _What man in his senses will deny_ that there are those whomwe have the best of grounds for considering that we ought todeceive--as boys, madmen, the sick, the intoxicated, enemies, men inerror, thieves? . .. Is it a point of conscience not to deceive them?. .. I would ask, by which of the commandments is a lie forbidden? Youwill say, by the ninth. Come, read it out, and you will agree withme. For whatever is here forbidden comes under the head of injuringone's neighbour. If then any lie does _not_ injure one's neighbour, certainly it is not forbidden by this commandment. It is on thisground that, by the judgment of theologians, we shall acquit so manyholy men of lying. Abraham, who said to his servants that he wouldreturn with his son; . .. The wise man understood that it did notmatter to his servants to know [that his son would not return], andthat it was at the moment expedient for himself that they should notknow. .. . Joseph would be a man of many lies if the common definitionof lying held; [also] Moses, Rahab, Ehud, Jael, Jonathan. " Here againveracity is due only on the score of _justice_ towards the personwhom we speak with; and, if he has _no claim_ upon us to speak thetruth, we _need_ not speak the truth to him. 

And so, again, Paley: "_A lie is a breach of promise_; for whoeverseriously addresses his discourse to another tacitly promises tospeak the truth, because he knows that the truth is expected. Or the_obligation_ of veracity may be made out from the direct illconsequences of lying to social happiness. .. . There are _falsehoods_which are not _lies_; _that is, which are not criminal_. " (Here, letit be observed, is the same distinction as in Taylor between_material_ and _formal_ untruths. ) "1. When no one is deceived. .. . 2. When the person to whom you speak has no _right_ to know the truth, or, more properly, when little or no inconveniency results from thewant of confidence in such cases, as _where you tell a falsehood to amadman_ for his own advantage; to a robber, to conceal your property;to an assassin, to defeat or divert him from his purpose. .. . It isupon this principle that, by the laws of war, it is allowableto deceive an enemy by feints, false colours, spies, falseintelligence. .. . Many people indulge, in serious discourse, a habitof fiction or exaggeration. .. . So long as . .. Their narratives, though false, are _inoffensive_, it may seem a superstitious regardto truth to censure them _merely for truth's sake_. " Then he goes onto mention reasons _against_ such a practice, adding, "I have seldomknown any one who deserted truth in trifles that could be trusted inmatters of importance. "--Works, vol. Iv. P. 123. 

Dr. Johnson, who, if any one, has the reputation of being a sturdymoralist, thus speaks:

"We talked, " says Boswell, "of the casuistical question--whether itwas allowable at any time to depart from _truth_. " Johnson. "Thegeneral rule is, that truth should never be violated; because it isof the utmost importance to the comfort of life, that we should havea full security by mutual faith; and occasional inconveniences shouldbe willingly suffered, that we may preserve it. There must, however, be some exceptions. If, for instance, a murderer should ask you whichway a man is gone, you may tell him what is not true, because youare under a previous obligation not to betray a man to a murderer. "Boswell. "Supposing the person who wrote Junius were asked whether hewas the author, might he deny it?" Johnson. "I don't know what to sayto this. If you were _sure_ that he wrote Junius, would you, if hedenied it, think as well of him afterwards? Yet it may be urged, thatwhat a man has no right to ask, you may refuse to communicate; andthere is no other effectual mode of preserving a secret, and animportant secret, the discovery of which may be very hurtful to you, but a flat denial; for if you are silent, or hesitate, or evade, it will be held equivalent to a confession. But stay, sir; here isanother case. Supposing the author had told me confidentially that hehad written Junius, and I were asked if he had, I should hold myselfat liberty to deny it, as being under a previous promise, express orimplied, to conceal it. Now what I ought to do for the author, may Inot do for myself? But I deny the lawfulness of telling a lie to asick man for fear of alarming him. You have no business withconsequences; you are to tell the truth. Besides, you are not surewhat effect your telling him that he is in danger may have; it maybring his distemper to a crisis, and that may cure him. Of all lyingI have the greatest abhorrence of this, because I believe it has beenfrequently practised on myself. "--Boswell's Life, vol. Iv. P. 277. 

There are English authors who allow of mental reservation andequivocation; such is Jeremy Taylor. 

He says, "In the same cases in which it is lawful to tell a lie, inthe same cases it is lawful to use a mental reservation. "--Ibid. P. 374. 

He says, too, "When the things are true in _several senses_, the notexplicating in _what sense_ I mean the words is not a criminalreservation. .. . But 1, this liberty is not to be used by inferiors, but by superiors only; 2, not by those that are interrogated, but bythem which speak voluntarily; 3, not by those which speak of duty, but which speak of grace and kindness. "--Ibid. P. 378. 

Bishop Butler, the first of Anglican authorities, writing in hisgrave and abstract way, seems to assert a similar doctrine in thefollowing passage:

"Though veracity, as well as justice, is to be our rule of life, itmust be added, otherwise a snare will be laid in the way of someplain men, that the use of common forms of speech generallyunderstood, cannot be falsehood; and, in general, that there can beno designed falsehood without designing to deceive. It must likewisebe observed, that, _in numberless cases, a man may be under thestrictest obligations to what he foresees will deceive, without hisintending it_. For _it is impossible not to foresee_, that the wordsand actions of men in different ranks and employments, and ofdifferent educations, _will perpetually be mistaken by each other_;and it cannot but be so, whilst they will judge with the utmostcarelessness, as they daily do, _of what they are not perhaps enoughinformed to be competent judges of_, even though they considered itwith great attention. "--_Nature of Virtue_, fin. These last wordsseem in a measure to answer to the words in Scavini, that anequivocation is permissible, because "then we do not deceive ourneighbour, but allow him to deceive himself. " In thus speaking, Ihave not the slightest intention of saying anything disrespectful toBishop Butler; and still less of course to St. Alfonso. 

And a third author, for whom I have a great respect, as differentfrom the above two as they are from each other, bears testimony tothe same effect in his "Comment on Scripture, " Thomas Scott. Hemaintains indeed that Ehud and Jael were divinely directed in whatthey did; but they could have no divine direction for what was initself wrong. 

Thus on Judges iii. 15-21:

"'And Ehud said, I have a secret errand unto thee, O king; I havea message from God unto thee, and Ehud thrust the dagger into hisbelly. ' Ehud, indeed, " says Scott, "had a secret errand, a messagefrom God unto him; _but it was of a far different nature thanEglon expected_. "

And again on Judges iv. 18-21:

"'And Jael said, Turn in, my lord, fear not. And he said to her, When any man doth inquire, Is there any man here? thou shalt say, No. Then Jael took a nail, and smote the nail into his temple. 'Jael, " says Scott, "is not said to have promised Sisera thatshe would deny his being there; she would give him shelter andrefreshment, but not utter a falsehood to oblige him. "

Footnotes

[6] "Mendacium est petulanter, aut cupiditate nocendi, aliud loqui, seu gestu significare, et aliud sentire. "

[7] Mentiris ut medicus. 

POSTSCRIPTUM

June 4, 1864

While I was engaged with these concluding pages, I received anotherof those special encouragements, which from several quarters havebeen bestowed upon me, since my controversy began. It was theextraordinary honour done me of an address from the clergy of thislarge diocese, who had been assembled for the Synod. 

It was followed two days afterwards by a most gracious testimonialfrom my Bishop, Dr. Ullathorne, in the shape of a letter which hewrote to me, and also inserted in the Birmingham papers. With hisleave I transfer it to my own volume, as a very precious document, completing and recompensing, in a way most grateful to my feelings, the anxious work which has occupied me so fully for nearly tenweeks. 

"Bishop's House, June 2, 1864. 

"My dear Dr. Newman, --It was with warm gratification that, after theclose of the Synod yesterday, I listened to the Address presented toyou by the clergy of the diocese, and to your impressive reply. ButI should have been little satisfied with the part of the silentlistener, except on the understanding with myself that I also mightafterwards express to you my own sentiments in my own way. 

"We have now been personally acquainted, and much more thanacquainted, for nineteen years, during more than sixteen of which wehave stood in special relation of duty towards each other. This hasbeen one of the singular blessings which God has given me amongst thecares of the Episcopal office. What my feelings of respect, ofconfidence, and of affection have been towards you, you know well, nor should I think of expressing them in words. But there is onething that has struck me in this day of explanations, which you couldnot, and would not, be disposed to do, and which no one could do soproperly or so authentically as I could, and which it seems to me isnot altogether uncalled for, if every kind of erroneous impressionthat some persons have entertained with no better evidence thanconjecture is to be removed. 

"It is difficult to comprehend how, in the face of facts, the notionshould ever have arisen that, during your Catholic life, you havebeen more occupied with your own thoughts than with the service ofreligion and the work of the Church. If we take no other work intoconsideration beyond the written productions which your Catholic penhas given to the world, they are enough for the life's labour ofanother. There are the Lectures on Anglican Difficulties, theLectures on Catholicism in England, the great work on the Scopeand End of University Education, that on the Office and Work ofUniversities, the Lectures and Essays on University Subjects, and thetwo Volumes of Sermons; not to speak of your contributions to theAtlantis, which you founded, and to other periodicals; then there arethose beautiful offerings to Catholic literature, the Lectures on theTurks, Loss and Gain, and Callista, and though last, not least, theApologia, which is destined to put many idle rumours to rest, andmany unprofitable surmises; and yet all these productions representbut a portion of your labour, and that in the second half of yourperiod of public life. 

"These works have been written in the midst of labour and cares ofanother kind, and of which the world knows very little. I willspecify four of these undertakings, each of a distinct character, andany one of which would have made a reputation for untiring energy inthe practical order. 

"The first of these undertakings was the establishment of thecongregation of the Oratory of St. Philip Neri--that great ornamentand accession to the force of English Catholicity. Both the Londonand the Birmingham Oratory must look to you as their founder and asthe originator of their characteristic excellences; whilst that ofBirmingham has never known any other presidency. 

"No sooner was this work fairly on foot than you were called by thehighest authority to commence another, and one of yet greatermagnitude and difficulty, the founding of a University in Ireland. After the Universities had been lost to the Catholics of thesekingdoms for three centuries, everything had to be begun from thebeginning: the idea of such an institution to be inculcated, the planto be formed that would work, the resources to be gathered, and thestaff of superiors and professors to be brought together. Your namewas then the chief point of attraction which brought these elementstogether. You alone know what difficulties you had to conciliate andwhat to surmount, before the work reached that state of consistencyand promise, which enabled you to return to those responsibilities inEngland which you had never laid aside or suspended. And here, excuseme if I give expression to a fancy which passed through my mind. 

"I was lately reading a poem, not long published, from the MSS. De Rerum Natura, by Neckham, the foster-brother of Richard theLion-hearted. He quotes an old prophecy, attributed to Merlin, andwith a sort of wonder, as if recollecting that England owed so muchof its literary learning to that country; and the prophecy says thatafter long years Oxford will pass into Ireland--'Vada boum suotempore transibunt in Hiberniam. ' When I read this, I could notbut indulge the pleasant fancy that in the days when the DublinUniversity shall arise in material splendour, an allusion to thisprophecy might form a poetic element in the inscription on thepedestal of the statue which commemorates its first Rector. 

"The original plan of an oratory did not contemplate any parochialwork, but you could not contemplate so many souls in want of pastorswithout being prompt and ready at the beck of authority to strain allyour efforts in coming to their help. And this brings me to the thirdand the most continuous of those labours to which I have alluded. Themission in Alcester Street, its church and schools, were the firstwork of the Birmingham Oratory. After several years of close and hardwork, and a considerable call upon the private resources of theFathers who had established this congregation, it was delivered overto other hands, and the Fathers removed to the district of Edgbaston, where up to that time nothing Catholic had appeared. Then arose underyour direction the large convent of the Oratory, the church expandedby degrees into its present capaciousness, a numerous congregationhas gathered and grown in it; poor schools and other piousinstitutions have grown up in connection with it, and, moreover, equally at your expense and that of your brethren, and, as I havereason to know, at much inconvenience, the Oratory has relieved theother clergy of Birmingham all this while by constantly doing theduty in the poor-house and gaol of Birmingham. 

"More recently still, the mission and the poor school at Smethwickowe their existence to the Oratory. And all this while the founderand father of these religious works has added to his othersolicitudes the toil of frequent preaching, of attendance in theconfessional, and other parochial duties. 

"I have read on this day of its publication the seventh part of theApologia, and the touching allusion in it to the devotedness of theCatholic clergy to the poor in seasons of pestilence reminds me thatwhen the cholera raged so dreadfully at Bilston, and the two priestsof the town were no longer equal to the number of cases to which theywere hurried day and night, I asked you to lend me two fathers tosupply the place of other priests whom I wished to send as a furtheraid. But you and Father St. John preferred to take the place ofdanger which I had destined for others, and remained at Bilston tillthe worst was over. 

"The fourth work which I would notice is one more widely known. Irefer to the school for the education of the higher classes, which atthe solicitation of many friends you have founded and attached to theOratory. Surely after reading this bare enumeration of work done, noman will venture to say that Dr. Newman is leading a comparativelyinactive life in the service of the Church. 

"To spare, my dear Dr. Newman, any further pressure on those feelingswith which I have already taken so large a liberty, I will only addone word more for my own satisfaction. During our long intercoursethere is only one subject on which, after the first experience, Ihave measured my words with some caution, and that has been wherequestions bearing on ecclesiastical duty have arisen. I found somelittle caution necessary, because you were always so prompt and readyto go even beyond the slightest intimation of my wish or desires. 

"That God may bless you with health, life, and all the spiritualgood which you desire, you and your brethren of the Oratory, isthe earnest prayer now and often of, my dear Dr. Newman, youraffectionate friend and faithful servant in Christ, "+ W. B. ULLATHORNE. "