{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_19690/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_19690","id":"gutenberg_19690","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/19690","summary":null,"tags":["Cardinals -- England -- Biography","Category: Biographies","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Catholic Church -- Apologetic works","Catholic Church -- Doctrines","Newman, John Henry, Saint, 1801-1890"],"text":"Produced by Andrew Sly\n\n\n\n\n\n\nAPOLOGIA PRO VITA SUA\n\nBy John Henry (Cardinal) Newman\n\nLondon: Published\nby J. M. Dent & Sons Ltd.\nAnd in New York\nby E.P. Dutton & Co.\n\n\n\n\nIntroduction\n\n\n_\"No autobiography in the English language has been more read; to\nthe nineteenth century it bears a relation not less characteristic\nthan Boswell's 'Johnson' to the eighteenth.\"_\n\nRev. Wm. Barry, D.D.\n\nNewman was already a recognised spiritual leader of over thirty\nyear's standing, but not yet a Cardinal, when in 1864 he wrote the\n_Apologia_. He was London born, and he had, as many Londoners have\nhad, a foreign strain in him. His father came of Dutch stock; his\nmother was a Fourdrinier, daughter of an old French Huguenot family\nsettled in this country. The date of his birth, 21st of February\n1801, relates him to many famous contemporaries, from Heine to Renan,\nfrom Carlyle to Pusey. Sent to school at Ealing--an imaginative\nseven-year-old schoolboy, he was described even then as being fond of\nbooks and seriously minded. It is certain he was deeply read in the\nEnglish Bible, thanks to his mother's care, before he began Latin and\nGreek. Another lifelong influence--as we may be prepared to find by a\nsignal reference in the following autobiography, was Sir Walter\nScott; and in a later page he speaks of reading in bed _Waverley_ and\n_Guy Mannering_ when they first came out--\"in the early summer\nmornings,\" and of his delight in hearing _The Lay of the Last\nMinstrel_ read aloud. Like Ruskin, another nineteenth-century master\nof English prose, he was finely affected by these two powerful\ninductors. They worked alike upon his piety and his imagination which\nwas its true servant, and they helped to foster his seemingly\ninstinctive style and his feeling for the English tongue.\n\nIn 1816 he went to Oxford--to Trinity College--and two years later\ngained a scholarship there. His father's idea was that he should read\nfor the bar, and he kept a few terms at Lincoln's Inn; but in the end\nOxford, which had, about the year of his birth, experienced a rebirth\nof ideas, thanks to the widening impulse of the French Revolution,\nheld him, and Oriel College--the centre of the \"Noetics,\" as old\nOxford called the Liberal set in contempt--made him a fellow. His\nassociation there with Pusey and Keble is a matter of history; and\nthe Oxford Movement, in which the three worked together, was the\ndirect result, according to Dean Church, of their \"searchings of\nheart and communing\" for seven years, from 1826 to 1833. A word might\nbe said of Whately too, whose _Logic_ Newman helped to beat into\nfinal form in these Oxford experiences. Not since the days of Colet\nand Erasmus had the University experienced such a shaking of the\nbranches. However, there is no need to do more than allude to these\nintimately dealt with in the _Apologia_ itself.\n\nThere, indeed, the stages of Newman's pilgrimage are related with a\ngrace and sincerity of style that have hardly been equalled in\nEnglish or in any northern tongue. It ranges from the simplest facts\nto the most complicated polemical issues and is always easily in\naccord with its changing theme. So much so, that the critics\nthemselves have not known whether to admire more the spiritual logic\nor the literary art of the writer and self-confessor. We may take, as\ntwo instances of Newman's power, the delightful account in Part III.\nof his childhood and the first growth of his religious belief; and\nthe remarkable opening to Part IV., where he uses the figure of the\ndeath-bed with that finer reality which is born of the creative\ncommunion of thought and word in a poet's brain. Something of this\npower was felt, it is clear, in his sermons at Oxford. Dr. Barry\ndescribes the effect that Newman made at the time of his parting with\nthe Anglican Church: \"Every sermon was an experience;\" made memorable\nby that \"still figure, and clear, low, penetrating voice, and the\nmental hush that fell upon his audience while he meditated, alone\nwith the Alone, in words of awful austerity. His discourses were\npoems, but transcripts too from the soul, reasonings in a heavenly\ndialectic....\"\n\nAbout his controversy with Charles Kingsley, the immediate cause of\nhis _Apologia_, what new thing need be said? It is clear that\nKingsley, who was the type of a class of mind then common enough in\nhis Church, impulsive, prejudiced, not logical, gave himself away\nboth by the mode and by the burden of his unfortunate attack. But we\nneed not complain of it to-day, since it called out one of the\nnoblest pieces of spiritual history the world possesses: one indeed\nwhich has the unique merit of making only the truth that is intrinsic\nand devout seem in the end to matter.\n\nMidway in the forties, as the _Apologia_ tells us, twenty years that\nis before it was written, Newman left Oxford and the Anglican Church\nfor the Church in which he died. Later portraits make us realise him\nbest in his robes as a Cardinal, as he may be seen in the National\nPortrait Gallery, or in the striking picture by Millais (now in\nthe Duke of Norfolk's collection). There is one delightful earlier\nportrait too, which shows him with a peculiarly radiant face, full of\ncharm and serene expectancy; and with it we may associate these lines\nof his--sincere expression of one who was in all his earthly and\nheavenly pilgrimage a truth-seeker, heart and soul:\n\n   \"When I would search the truths that in me burn,\n     And mould them into rule and argument,\n   A hundred reasoners cried,--'Hast thou to learn\n     Those dreams are scatter'd now, those fires are spent?'\n   And, did I mount to simpler thoughts, and try\n   Some theme of peace, 'twas still the same reply.\n\n   Perplex'd, I hoped my heart was pure of guile,\n     But judged me weak in wit, to disagree;\n   But now, I see that men are mad awhile,\n     'Tis the old history--Truth without a home,\n   Despised and slain, then rising from the tomb.\"\n\nThe following is a list of the chief works of Cardinal Newman:--\n\nThe Arians of the Fourth Century, 1833; 29 Tracts to Tracts for the\nTimes, 1834-1841; Lyra Apostolica, 1834; Elucidations of Dr.\nHampden's Theological Statements, 1836; Parochial Sermons, 6 vols.,\n1837-1842; A Letter to the Rev. G. Faussett on Certain Points of\nFaith and Practice, 1838; Lectures on Justification, 1838; Sermons on\nSubjects of the Day, 1842; Plain Sermons, 1843; Sermons before the\nUniversity of Oxford, 1843; The Cistercian Saints of England, 1844;\nAn Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine, 1845; Loss and\nGain, 1848; Discourse addressed to Mixed Congregations, 1849;\nLectures on Certain Difficulties Felt by Anglicans in Catholic\nTeaching, 1850; Lectures on the Present Position of Catholics in\nEngland, 1851; The Idea of a University, 1852; Callista, 1856; Mr.\nKingsley and Dr. Newman, 1864; Apologia pro Vita Sua, 1864; The Dream\nof Gerontius, 1865; Letter to the Rev. E. B. Pusey on his Eirenicon,\n1866; Verses on Various Occasions, 1868; An Essay in Aid of a Grammar\nof Assent, 1870; Letter addressed to His Grace the Duke of Norfolk on\nOccasion of Mr. Gladstone's Expostulation, 1875; Meditations and\nDevotions, 1893.\n\nBiographies.--By W. Meynell, 1890; by Dr. Wm Barry, 1890; by R. H.\nHutton, 1891; Letters and Correspondence of J. H. Newman, during his\nlife in the English Church (with a brief autobiography), edited by\nMiss Anne Mozley, 1891; Anglican Career of Cardinal Newman, by Rd. E.\nA. Abbott, 1892; as a Musician, by E. Bellasis, 1892; by A. R. Waller\nand G. H. S. Burrow, 1901; an Appreciation, by Dr. A. Whyte, 1901;\nAddresses to Cardinal Newman, with his Replies, edited by Rev. W. P.\nNeville, 1905; by W. Ward (in Ten Personal Studies), 1908; Newman's\nTheology, by Charles Sarolea, 1908; The Authoritative Biography, by\nWilfrid P. Ward (based on Cardinal Newman's private journals and\ncorrespondence), 1912.\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n  PART                                                          PAGE\n    I. Mr. Kingsley's Method of Disputation                        1\n   II. True Mode of Meeting Mr. Kingsley                          15\n  III. History of My Religious Opinions up to 1833                29\n   IV. History of My Religious Opinions from 1833 to 1839         57\n    V. History of My Religious Opinions from 1839 to 1841        101\n   VI. History of My Religious Opinions from 1841 to 1845        147\n  VII. General Answer to Mr. Kingsley                            215\n       APPENDIX: Answer in Detail to Mr. Kingsley's Accusations  253\n\n\n\n\nAPOLOGIA PRO VITA SUA\n\nPart I\n\nMr. Kingsley's Method of Disputation\n\n\nI cannot be sorry to have forced Mr. Kingsley to bring out in\nfulness his charges against me. It is far better that he should\ndischarge his thoughts upon me in my lifetime, than after I am dead.\nUnder the circumstances I am happy in having the opportunity of\nreading the worst that can be said of me by a writer who has taken\npains with his work and is well satisfied with it. I account it a\ngain to be surveyed from without by one who hates the principles\nwhich are nearest to my heart, has no personal knowledge of me to set\nright his misconceptions of my doctrine, and who has some motive or\nother to be as severe with me as he can possibly be.\n\nAnd first of all, I beg to compliment him on the motto in his\ntitle-page; it is felicitous. A motto should contain, as in a\nnutshell, the contents, or the character, or the drift, or the\n_animus_ of the writing to which it is prefixed. The words which he\nhas taken from me are so apposite as to be almost prophetical. There\ncannot be a better illustration than he thereby affords of the\naphorism which I intended them to convey. I said that it is not more\nthan an hyperbolical expression to say that in certain cases a\nlie is the nearest approach to truth. Mr. Kingsley's pamphlet\nis emphatically one of such cases as are contemplated in that\nproposition. I really believe, that his view of me is about as near\nan approach to the truth about my writings and doings, as he is\ncapable of taking. He has done his worst towards me; but he has also\ndone his best. So far well; but, while I impute to him no malice, I\nunfeignedly think, on the other hand, that, in his invective against\nme, he as faithfully fulfils the other half of the proposition also.\n\nThis is not a mere sharp retort upon Mr. Kingsley, as will be seen,\nwhen I come to consider directly the subject to which the words of\nhis motto relate. I have enlarged on that subject in various passages\nof my publications; I have said that minds in different states and\ncircumstances cannot understand one another, and that in all cases\nthey must be instructed according to their capacity, and, if not\ntaught step by step, they learn only so much the less; that children\ndo not apprehend the thoughts of grown people, nor savages the\ninstincts of civilization, nor blind men the perceptions of sight,\nnor pagans the doctrines of Christianity, nor men the experiences of\nAngels. In the same way, there are people of matter-of-fact, prosaic\nminds, who cannot take in the fancies of poets; and others of\nshallow, inaccurate minds, who cannot take in the ideas of\nphilosophical inquirers. In a lecture of mine I have illustrated\nthis phenomenon by the supposed instance of a foreigner, who, after\nreading a commentary on the principles of English Law, does not\nget nearer to a real apprehension of them than to be led to accuse\nEnglishmen of considering that the queen is impeccable and\ninfallible, and that the Parliament is omnipotent. Mr. Kingsley\nhas read me from beginning to end in the fashion in which the\nhypothetical Russian read Blackstone; not, I repeat, from malice, but\nbecause of his intellectual build. He appears to be so constituted as\nto have no notion of what goes on in minds very different from his\nown, and moreover to be stone-blind to his ignorance. A modest man or\na philosopher would have scrupled to treat with scorn and scoffing,\nas Mr. Kingsley does in my own instance, principles and convictions,\neven if he did not acquiesce in them himself, which had been held so\nwidely and for so long--the beliefs and devotions and customs which\nhave been the religious life of millions upon millions of Christians\nfor nearly twenty centuries--for this in fact is the task on which he\nis spending his pains. Had he been a man of large or cautious mind,\nhe would not have taken it for granted that cultivation must lead\nevery one to see things precisely as he sees them himself. But the\nnarrow-minded are the more prejudiced by very reason of their\nnarrowness. The apostle bids us \"in malice be children, but in\nunderstanding be men.\" I am glad to recognise in Mr. Kingsley an\nillustration of the first half of this precept; but I should not be\nhonest, if I ascribed to him any sort of fulfilment of the second.\n\nI wish I could speak as favourably either of his drift or of his\nmethod of arguing, as I can of his convictions. As to his drift, I\nthink its ultimate point is an attack upon the Catholic Religion. It\nis I indeed, whom he is immediately insulting--still, he views me\nonly as a representative, and on the whole a fair one, of a class or\ncaste of men, to whom, conscious as I am of my own integrity, I\nascribe an excellence superior to mine. He desires to impress upon\nthe public mind the conviction that I am a crafty, scheming man,\nsimply untrustworthy; that, in becoming a Catholic, I have just found\nmy right place; that I do but justify and am properly interpreted by\nthe common English notion of Roman casuists and confessors; that I\nwas secretly a Catholic when I was openly professing to be a\nclergyman of the Established Church; that so far from bringing, by\nmeans of my conversion, when at length it openly took place, any\nstrength to the Catholic cause, I am really a burden to it--an\nadditional evidence of the fact, that to be a pure, german, genuine\nCatholic, a man must be either a knave or a fool.\n\n\nThese last words bring me to Mr. Kingsley's method of disputation,\nwhich I must criticise with much severity;--in his drift he does but\nfollow the ordinary beat of controversy, but in his mode of arguing\nhe is actually dishonest.\n\nHe says that I am either a knave or a fool, and (as we shall see by\nand by) he is not quite sure which, probably both. He tells his\nreaders that on one occasion he said that he had fears I should \"end\nin one or other of two misfortunes.\" \"He would either,\" he continues,\n\"destroy his own sense of honesty, _i.e._ conscious truthfulness--and\nbecome a dishonest person; or he would destroy his common sense,\n_i.e._ unconscious truthfulness, and become the slave and puppet\nseemingly of his own logic, really of his own fancy.... I thought for\nyears past that he had become the former; I now see that he has\nbecome the latter.\" (p. 20). Again, \"When I read these outrages upon\ncommon sense, what wonder if I said to myself, 'This man cannot\nbelieve what he is saying?'\" (p. 26). Such has been Mr. Kingsley's\nstate of mind till lately, but now he considers that I am possessed\nwith a spirit of \"almost boundless silliness,\" of \"simple\ncredulity, the child of scepticism,\" of \"absurdity\" (p. 41), of a\n\"self-deception which has become a sort of frantic honesty\" (p. 26).\nAnd as to his fundamental reason for this change, he tells us, he\nreally does not know what it is (p. 44). However, let the reason be\nwhat it will, its upshot is intelligible enough. He is enabled at\nonce, by this professed change of judgment about me, to put forward\none of these alternatives, yet to keep the other in reserve;--and\nthis he actually does. He need not commit himself to a definite\naccusation against me, such as requires definite proof and admits of\ndefinite refutation; for he has two strings to his bow;--when he is\nthrown off his balance on the one leg, he can recover himself by the\nuse of the other. If I demonstrate that I am not a knave, he may\nexclaim, \"Oh, but you are a fool!\" and when I demonstrate that I am\nnot a fool, he may turn round and retort, \"Well, then, you are a\nknave.\" I have no objection to reply to his arguments in behalf of\neither alternative, but I should have been better pleased to have\nbeen allowed to take them one at a time.\n\nBut I have not yet done full justice to the method of disputation,\nwhich Mr. Kingsley thinks it right to adopt. Observe this first:--He\nmeans by a man who is \"silly\" not a man who is to be pitied, but a\nman who is to be _abhorred_. He means a man who is not simply weak\nand incapable, but a moral leper; a man who, if not a knave, has\neverything bad about him except knavery; nay, rather, has together\nwith every other worst vice, a spice of knavery to boot. _His_\nsimpleton is one who has become such, in judgment for his having once\nbeen a knave. _His_ simpleton is not a born fool, but a self-made\nidiot, one who has drugged and abused himself into a shameless\ndepravity; one, who, without any misgiving or remorse, is guilty of\ndrivelling superstition, of reckless violation of sacred things, of\nfanatical excesses, of passionate inanities, of unmanly audacious\ntyranny over the weak, meriting the wrath of fathers and brothers.\nThis is that milder judgment, which he seems to pride himself upon as\nso much charity; and, as he expresses it, he \"does not know\" why.\nThis is what he really meant in his letter to me of January 14, when\nhe withdrew his charge of my being dishonest. He said, \"The _tone_ of\nyour letters, even more than their language, makes me feel, _to my\nvery deep pleasure_,\"--what? that you have gambled away your reason,\nthat you are an intellectual sot, that you are a fool in a frenzy.\nAnd in his pamphlet, he gives us this explanation why he did not say\nthis to my face, viz. that he had been told that I was \"in weak\nhealth,\" and was \"averse to controversy,\" (pp. 6 and 8). He \"felt\nsome regret for having disturbed me.\"\n\nBut I pass on from these multiform imputations, and confine myself to\nthis one consideration, viz. that he has made any fresh imputation\nupon me at all. He gave up the charge of knavery; well and good: but\nwhere was the logical necessity of his bringing another? I am sitting\nat home without a thought of Mr. Kingsley; he wantonly breaks in upon\nme with the charge that I had \"_informed_\" the world \"that Truth for\nits own sake _need not_ and on the whole _ought not to be_ a virtue\nwith the Roman clergy.\" When challenged on the point he cannot bring\na fragment of evidence in proof of his assertion, and he is convicted\nof false witness by the voice of the world. Well, I should have\nthought that he had now nothing whatever more to do. \"Vain man!\" he\nseems to make answer, \"what simplicity in you to think so! If you\nhave not broken one commandment, let us see whether we cannot convict\nyou of the breach of another. If you are not a swindler or forger,\nyou are guilty of arson or burglary. By hook or by crook you shall\nnot escape. Are _you_ to suffer or _I_? What does it matter to you\nwho are going off the stage, to receive a slight additional daub\nupon a character so deeply stained already? But think of me, the\nimmaculate lover of Truth, so observant (as I have told you p. 8) of\n'_hault courage_ and strict honour,'--and (_aside_)--'and not as this\npublican'--do you think I can let you go scot free instead of myself?\nNo; _noblesse oblige_. Go to the shades, old man, and boast that\nAchilles sent you thither.\"\n\nBut I have not even yet done with Mr. Kingsley's method of\ndisputation. Observe secondly:--when a man is said to be a knave or a\nfool, it is commonly meant that he is _either_ the one _or_ the\nother; and that,--either in the sense that the hypothesis of his\nbeing a fool is too absurd to be entertained; or, again, as a sort of\ncontemptuous acquittal of one, who after all has not wit enough to be\nwicked. But this is not at all what Mr. Kingsley proposes to himself\nin the antithesis which he suggests to his readers. Though he speaks\nof me as an utter dotard and fanatic, yet all along, from the\nbeginning of his pamphlet to the end, he insinuates, he proves from\nmy writings, and at length in his last pages he openly pronounces,\nthat after all he was right at first, in thinking me a conscious liar\nand deceiver.\n\nNow I wish to dwell on this point. It cannot be doubted, I say, that,\nin spite of his professing to consider me as a dotard and driveller,\non the ground of his having given up the notion of my being a knave,\nyet it is the very staple of his pamphlet that a knave after all I\nmust be. By insinuation, or by implication, or by question, or by\nirony, or by sneer, or by parable, he enforces again and again a\nconclusion which he does not categorically enunciate.\n\nFor instance (1) P. 14. \"I know that men _used to suspect Dr.\nNewman_, I have been inclined to do so myself, of writing a whole\nsermon ... for the sake of one single passing hint, one phrase, one\nepithet, one little barbed arrow which ... he delivered unheeded, as\nwith his finger tip, to the very heart of an initiated hearer, _never\nto be withdrawn again_.\"\n\n(2) P. 15. \"How _was_ I to know that the preacher, who had the\nreputation of being the most _acute_ man of his generation, and of\nhaving a specially intimate acquaintance with the weaknesses of the\nhuman heart, was utterly blind to the broad meaning and the plain\npractical result of a sermon like this, delivered before fanatic and\nhot-headed young men, who hung upon his every word? That he did not\n_foresee_ that they would think that they obeyed him, _by becoming\naffected, artificial, sly, shifty, ready for concealments and\nequivocations_?\"\n\n(3) P. 17. \"No one _would have_ suspected him to be a dishonest man,\nif he had not perversely chosen _to assume a style_ which (as he\nhimself confesses) the world always associates with dishonesty.\"\n\n(4) Pp. 29, 30. \"_If_ he will indulge in subtle paradoxes, in\nrhetorical exaggerations; if, _whenever he touches on the question of\ntruth and honesty_, he will take a perverse pleasure in saying\nsomething shocking to plain English notions, he _must take the\nconsequences of his own eccentricities_.\"\n\n(5) P. 34. \"At which most of my readers will be inclined to cry: 'Let\nDr. Newman alone, after that.... He had a human reason once, no\ndoubt: but he has gambled it away.' ... True: so true, etc.\"\n\n(6) P. 34. He continues: \"I should never have written these pages,\nsave because it was my duty to show the world, if not Dr. Newman, how\nthe mistake (!) of his _not caring_ for truth _arose_.\"\n\n(7) P. 37. \"And this is the man, who when accused of countenancing\nfalsehood, puts on first a tone of _plaintive_ (!) and startled\ninnocence, and then one of smug self-satisfaction--as who should ask,\n'What have I said? What have I done? Why am I on my trial?'\"\n\n(8) P. 40. \"What Dr. Newman teaches is clear at last, and _I see now\nhow deeply I have wronged him_. So far from thinking truth for its\nown sake to be no virtue, _he considers it a virtue so lofty as to be\nunattainable by man_.\"\n\n(9) P. 43. \"There is no use in wasting words on this 'economical'\nstatement of Dr. Newman's. I shall only say that there are people in\nthe world whom it is very difficult to _help_. As soon as they are\ngot out of one scrape, they walk straight into another.\"\n\n(10) P. 43. \"Dr. Newman has shown 'wisdom' enough of that\n_serpentine_ type which is his professed ideal.... Yes, Dr. Newman is\na very economical person.\"\n\n(11) P. 44. \"Dr. Newman _tries_, by _cunning sleight-of-hand logic_,\nto prove that I did not believe the accusation when I made it.\"\n\n(12) P. 45. \"These are hard words. If Dr. Newman shall complain of\nthem, I can only remind him of the fate which befel the stork caught\namong the cranes, _even though_ the stork had _not_ done all he could\nto make himself like a crane, _as Dr. Newman has_, by 'economising'\non the very title-page of his pamphlet.\"\n\nThese last words bring us to another and far worse instance of these\nslanderous assaults upon me, but its place is in a subsequent page.\n\nNow it may be asked of me, \"Well, why should not Mr. Kingsley take a\ncourse such as this? It was his original assertion that Dr. Newman\nwas a professed liar, and a patron of lies; he spoke somewhat at\nrandom, granted; but now he has got up his references and he is\nproving, not perhaps the very thing which he said at first, but\nsomething very like it, and to say the least quite as bad. He is now\nonly aiming to justify morally his original assertion; why is he not\nat liberty to do so?\"\n\n_Why_ should he _not_ now insinuate that I am a liar and a knave! he\nhad of course a perfect right to make such a charge, if he chose; he\nmight have said, \"I was virtually right, and here is the proof of\nit,\" but this he has not done, but on the contrary has professed that\nhe no longer draws from my works, as he did before, the inference of\nmy dishonesty. He says distinctly, p. 26, \"When I read these outrages\nupon common sense, what wonder if I said to myself, 'This man cannot\nbelieve what he is saying?' _I believe I was wrong_.\" And in p. 31,\n\"I said, This man has no real care for truth. Truth for its own sake\nis no virtue in his eyes, and he teaches that it need not be. _I do\nnot say that now_.\" And in p. 41, \"I do not call this conscious\ndishonesty; the man who wrote that sermon _was already past the\npossibility_ of such a sin.\"\n\n_Why_ should he _not_! because it is on the ground of my not being a\nknave that he calls me a fool; adding to the words just quoted, \"[My\nreaders] have fallen perhaps into the prevailing superstition that\ncleverness is synonymous with wisdom. They cannot believe that (as is\ntoo certain) great literary and even barristerial ability may\nco-exist with almost boundless silliness.\"\n\n_Why_ should he _not_! because he has taken credit to himself for\nthat high feeling of honour which refuses to withdraw a concession\nwhich once has been made; though (wonderful to say!), at the very\ntime that he is recording this magnanimous resolution, he lets it out\nof the bag that his relinquishment of it is only a profession and a\npretence; for he says, p. 8: \"I have accepted Dr. Newman's denial\nthat [the Sermon] means what I thought it did; and _heaven forbid_\"\n(oh!) \"that I should withdraw my word once given, _at whatever\ndisadvantage to myself_.\" Disadvantage! but nothing can be\nadvantageous to him which is _untrue_; therefore in proclaiming that\nthe concession of my honesty is a disadvantage to him, he thereby\nimplies unequivocally that there is some probability still, that I am\n_dis_honest. He goes on, \"I am informed by those from whose judgment\non such points there is no appeal, that '_en hault courage_,' and\nstrict honour, I am also _precluded_, by the _terms_ of my\nexplanation, from using any other of Dr. Newman's past writings to\nprove my assertion.\" And then, \"I have declared Dr. Newman to have\nbeen an honest man up to the 1st of February, 1864; it was, as I\nshall show, only Dr. Newman's fault that I ever thought him to be\nanything else. It depends entirely on Dr. Newman whether he shall\n_sustain_ the reputation which he has so recently acquired,\" (by\ndiploma of course from Mr. Kingsley.) \"If I give him thereby a fresh\nadvantage in this argument, he is _most welcome_ to it. He needs, it\nseems to me, _as many advantages as possible_.\"\n\nWhat a princely mind! How loyal to his rash promise, how delicate\ntowards the subject of it, how conscientious in his interpretation of\nit! I have no thought of irreverence towards a Scripture Saint, who\nwas actuated by a very different spirit from Mr. Kingsley's, but\nsomehow since I read his pamphlet words have been running in my head,\nwhich I find in the Douay version thus; \"Thou hast also with thee\nSemei the son of Gera, who cursed me with a grievous curse when I\nwent to the camp, but I swore to him, saying, I will not kill thee\nwith the sword. Do not thou hold him guiltless. But thou art a wise\nman and knowest what to do with him, and thou shalt bring down his\ngrey hairs with blood to hell.\"\n\nNow I ask, Why could not Mr. Kingsley be open? If he intended still\nto arraign me on the charge of lying, why could he not say so as a\nman? Why must he insinuate, question, imply, and use sneering and\nirony, as if longing to touch a forbidden fruit, which still he was\nafraid would burn his fingers, if he did so? Why must he \"palter in a\ndouble sense,\" and blow hot and cold in one breath? He first said he\nconsidered me a patron of lying; well, he changed his opinion; and as\nto the logical ground of this change, he said that, if any one asked\nhim what it was, he could only answer that _he really did not know_.\nWhy could not he change back again, and say he did not know why? He\nhad quite a right to do so; and then his conduct would have been so\nfar straightforward and unexceptionable. But no;--in the very act of\nprofessing to believe in my sincerity, he takes care to show the\nworld that it is a profession and nothing more. That very proceeding\nwhich at p. 15 he lays to my charge (whereas I detest it), of avowing\none thing and thinking another, that proceeding he here exemplifies\nhimself; and yet, while indulging in practices as offensive as this,\nhe ventures to speak of his sensitive admiration of \"hault courage\nand strict honour!\" \"I forgive you, Sir Knight,\" says the heroine in\nthe Romance, \"I forgive you as a Christian.\" \"That means,\" said\nWamba, \"that she does not forgive him at all.\" Mr. Kingsley's word of\nhonour is about as valuable as in the jester's opinion was the\nChristian charity of Rowena. But here we are brought to a further\nspecimen of Mr. Kingsley's method of disputation, and having duly\nexhibited it, I shall have done with him.\n\nIt is his last, and he has intentionally reserved it for his last.\nLet it be recollected that he professed to absolve me from his\noriginal charge of dishonesty up to February 1. And further, he\nimplies that, _at the time when he was writing_, I had not _yet_\ninvolved myself in any fresh acts suggestive of that sin. He says\nthat I have had a great _escape_ of conviction, that he hopes I shall\ntake warning, and act more cautiously. \"It depends entirely,\" he\nsays, \"on _Dr. Newman, whether_ he shall _sustain_ the reputation\nwhich he has so recently acquired\" (p. 8). Thus, in Mr. Kingsley's\njudgment, I was _then_, when he wrote these words, _still_ innocent\nof dishonesty, for a man cannot sustain what he actually has not got;\n_only he could not be sure of my future_. Could not be sure! Why at\nthis very time he had already noted down valid proofs, as he thought\nthem, that I _had_ already forfeited the character which he\ncontemptuously accorded to me. He had cautiously said \"_up to_\nFebruary 1st,\" _in order_ to reserve the title-page and last three\npages of my pamphlet, which were not published till February 12th,\nand out of these four pages, which he had _not_ whitewashed, he had\n_already_ forged charges against me of dishonesty at the very time\nthat he implied that as yet there was nothing against me. When he\ngave me that plenary condonation, as it seemed to be, he had already\ndone his best that I should never enjoy it. He knew well at p. 8,\nwhat he meant to say at pp. 44 and 45. At best indeed I was only out\nupon ticket of leave; but that ticket was a pretence; he had made\nit forfeit when he gave it. But he did not say so at once, first,\nbecause between p. 8 and p. 44 he meant to talk a great deal about my\nidiotcy and my frenzy, which would have been simply out of place, had\nhe proved me too soon to be a knave again; and next, because he meant\nto exhaust all those insinuations about my knavery in the past, which\n\"strict honour\" did not permit him to countenance, in order thereby\nto give colour and force to his direct charges of knavery in the\npresent, which \"strict honour\" _did_ permit him to handsel. So in the\nfifth act he gave a start, and found to his horror that, in my\nmiserable four pages, I had committed the \"enormity\" of an \"economy,\"\nwhich in matter of fact he had got by heart before he began the play.\nNay, he suddenly found two, three, and (for what he knew) as many as\nfour profligate economies in that title-page and those Reflections,\nand he uses the language of distress and perplexity at this appalling\ndiscovery.\n\nNow why this _coup de theatre_? The reason soon breaks on us. Up to\nFebruary 1, he could not categorically arraign me for lying, and\ntherefore could not involve me (as was so necessary for his case), in\nthe popular abhorrence which is felt for the casuists of Rome: but,\nas soon as ever he could openly and directly pronounce (saving his\n\"hault courage and strict honour\") that I am guilty of three or four\nnew economies, then at once I am made to bear, not only my own sins,\nbut the sins of other people also, and, though I have been condoned\nthe knavery of my antecedents, I am guilty of the knavery of a whole\npriesthood instead. So the hour of doom for Semei is come, and the\nwise man knows what to do with him;--he is down upon me with the\nodious names of \"St. Alfonso da Liguori,\" and \"Scavini\" and\n\"Neyraguet,\" and \"the Romish moralists,\" and their \"compeers and\npupils,\" and I am at once merged and whirled away in the gulph of\nnotorious quibblers, and hypocrites, and rogues.\n\nBut we have not even yet got at the real object of the stroke, thus\nreserved for his _finale_. I really feel sad for what I am obliged\nnow to say. I am in warfare with him, but I wish him no ill;--it is\nvery difficult to get up resentment towards persons whom one has\nnever seen. It is easy enough to be irritated with friends or foes,\n_vis-a-vis_; but, though I am writing with all my heart against what\nhe has said of me, I am not conscious of personal unkindness towards\nhimself. I think it necessary to write as I am writing, for my own\nsake, and for the sake of the Catholic priesthood; but I wish to\nimpute nothing worse to Kingsley than that he has been furiously\ncarried away by his feelings. But what shall I say of the upshot of\nall this talk of my economies and equivocations and the like? What is\nthe precise _work_ which it is directed to effect? I am at war with\nhim; but there is such a thing as legitimate warfare: war has its\nlaws; there are things which may fairly be done, and things which may\nnot be done. I say it with shame and with stern sorrow;--he has\nattempted a great transgression; he has attempted (as I may call it)\nto _poison the wells_. I will quote him and explain what I mean.\n\n\"Dr. Newman tries, by cunning sleight-of-hand logic, to prove that I\ndid not believe the accusation when I made it. Therein he is\nmistaken. I did believe it, and I believed also his indignant denial.\nBut when he goes on to ask with sneers, why I should believe his\ndenial, if I did not consider him trustworthy in the first instance?\nI can only answer, I really do not know. There is a _great deal_ to\nbe said for _that_ view, _now that_ Dr. Newman has become (one must\nneeds suppose) _suddenly_ and _since_ the 1st of February, 1864, a\nconvert to the _economic_ views of St. Alfonso da Liguori and his\ncompeers. I am _henceforth_ in doubt and _fear_, as much as any\nhonest man can be, _concerning every word_ Dr. Newman may write. _How\ncan I tell that I shall not be the dupe of some cunning\nequivocation_, of one of the three kinds laid down as permissible by\nthe blessed Alfonso da Liguori and his pupils, even when confirmed by\nan oath, because 'then we do not deceive our neighbour, but allow him\nto deceive himself?' ... It is admissible, therefore, to use words\nand sentences which have a double signification, and leave the\nhapless hearer to take which of them he may choose. _What proof have\nI, then, that by 'mean it? I never said it!' Dr. Newman does not\nsignify_, I did not say it, but I did mean it?\"--Pp. 44, 45.\n\nNow these insinuations and questions shall be answered in their\nproper places; here I will but say that I scorn and detest lying, and\nquibbling, and double-tongued practice, and slyness, and cunning, and\nsmoothness, and cant, and pretence, quite as much as any Protestants\nhate them; and I pray to be kept from the snare of them. But all this\nis just now by the bye; my present subject is Mr. Kingsley; what I\ninsist upon here, now that I am bringing this portion of my\ndiscussion to a close, is this unmanly attempt of his, in his\nconcluding pages, to cut the ground from under my feet;--to poison by\nanticipation the public mind against me, John Henry Newman, and to\ninfuse into the imaginations of my readers, suspicion and mistrust of\neverything that I may say in reply to him. This I call _poisoning the\nwells_.\n\n\"I am henceforth in _doubt and fear_,\" he says, \"as much as any\n_honest_ man can be, _concerning every word_ Dr. Newman may write.\n_How can I tell that I shall not be the dupe of some cunning\nequivocation?_ ... What proof have I, that by 'mean it? I never said\nit!' Dr. Newman does not signify, 'I did not say it, but I did mean\nit'?\"\n\nWell, I can only say, that, if his taunt is to take effect, I am but\nwasting my time in saying a word in answer to his foul calumnies; and\nthis is precisely what he knows and intends to be its fruit. I can\nhardly get myself to protest against a method of controversy so base\nand cruel, lest in doing so, I should be violating my self-respect\nand self-possession; but most base and most cruel it is. We all know\nhow our imagination runs away with us, how suddenly and at what a\npace;--the saying, \"Caesar's wife should not be suspected,\" is an\ninstance of what I mean. The habitual prejudice, the humour of the\nmoment, is the turning-point which leads us to read a defence in a\ngood sense or a bad. We interpret it by our antecedent impressions.\nThe very same sentiments, according as our jealousy is or is not\nawake, or our aversion stimulated, are tokens of truth or of\ndissimulation and pretence. There is a story of a sane person being\nby mistake shut up in the wards of a lunatic asylum, and that, when\nhe pleaded his cause to some strangers visiting the establishment,\nthe only remark he elicited in answer was, \"How naturally he talks!\nyou would think he was in his senses.\" Controversies should be\ndecided by the reason; is it legitimate warfare to appeal to the\nmisgivings of the public mind and to its dislikings? Anyhow, if\nMr. Kingsley is able thus to practise upon my readers, the more I\nsucceed, the less will be my success. If I am natural, he will tell\nthem, \"Ars est celare artem;\" if I am convincing, he will suggest\nthat I am an able logician; if I show warmth, I am acting the\nindignant innocent; if I am calm, I am thereby detected as a smooth\nhypocrite; if I clear up difficulties, I am too plausible and perfect\nto be true. The more triumphant are my statements, the more certain\nwill be my defeat.\n\nSo will it be if Mr. Kingsley succeeds in his manoeuvre; but I do\nnot for an instant believe that he will. Whatever judgment my readers\nmay eventually form of me from these pages, I am confident that they\nwill believe me in what I shall say in the course of them. I have no\nmisgiving it all, that they will be ungenerous or harsh with a man\nwho has been so long before the eyes of the world; who has so many to\nspeak of him from personal knowledge; whose natural impulse it has\never been to speak out; who has ever spoken too much rather than too\nlittle; who would have saved himself many a scrape, if he had been\nwise enough to hold his tongue; who has ever been fair to the\ndoctrines and arguments of his opponents; who has never slurred over\nfacts and reasonings which told against himself; who has never given\nhis name or authority to proofs which he thought unsound, or to\ntestimony which he did not think at least plausible; who has never\nshrunk from confessing a fault when he felt that he had committed\none; who has ever consulted for others more than for himself; who has\ngiven up much that he loved and prized and could have retained, but\nthat he loved honesty better than name, and truth better than dear\nfriends.\n\n\nAnd now I am in a train of thought higher and more serene than any\nwhich slanders can disturb. Away with you, Mr. Kingsley, and fly into\nspace. Your name shall occur again as little as I can help, in the\ncourse of these pages. I shall henceforth occupy myself not with you,\nbut with your charges.\n\n\n\n\nPart II\n\nTrue Mode of Meeting Mr. Kingsley\n\n\nWhat shall be the special imputation, against which I shall throw\nmyself in these pages, out of the thousand and one which my accuser\ndirects upon me? I mean to confine myself to one, for there is only\none about which I much care--the charge of untruthfulness. He may\ncast upon me as many other imputations as he pleases, and they may\nstick on me, as long as they can, in the course of nature. They will\nfall to the ground in their season.\n\nAnd indeed I think the same of the charge of untruthfulness, and I\nselect it from the rest, not because it is more formidable, but\nbecause it is more serious. Like the rest, it may disfigure me for a\ntime, but it will not stain: Archbishop Whately used to say, \"Throw\ndirt enough, and some will stick;\" well, will stick, but not stain. I\nthink he used to mean \"stain,\" and I do not agree with him. Some dirt\nsticks longer than other dirt; but no dirt is immortal. According to\nthe old saying, Praevalebit Veritas. There are virtues indeed, which\nthe world is not fitted to judge about or to uphold, such as faith,\nhope, and charity: but it can judge about truthfulness; it can judge\nabout the natural virtues, and truthfulness is one of them. Natural\nvirtues may also become supernatural; truthfulness is such; but that\ndoes not withdraw it from the jurisdiction of mankind at large. It\nmay be more difficult in this or that particular case for men to take\ncognizance of it, as it may be difficult for the Court of Queen's\nBench at Westminster to try a case fairly which took place in\nHindoostan; but that is a question of capacity, not of right. Mankind\nhas the right to judge of truthfulness in the case of a Catholic, as\nin the case of a Protestant, of an Italian, or of a Chinese. I have\nnever doubted, that in my hour, in God's hour, my avenger will\nappear, and the world will acquit me of untruthfulness, even though\nit be not while I live.\n\nStill more confident am I of such eventual acquittal, seeing that my\njudges are my own countrymen. I think, indeed, Englishmen the most\nsuspicious and touchy of mankind; I think them unreasonable and\nunjust in their seasons of excitement; but I had rather be an\nEnglishman (as in fact I am) than belong to any other race under\nheaven. They are as generous, as they are hasty and burly; and their\nrepentance for their injustice is greater than their sin.\n\nFor twenty years and more I have borne an imputation, of which I am\nat least as sensitive, who am the object of it, as they can be, who\nare only the judges. I have not set myself to remove it, first,\nbecause I never have had an opening to speak, and, next, because I\nnever saw in them the disposition to hear. I have wished to appeal\nfrom Philip drunk to Philip sober. When shall I pronounce him to be\nhimself again? If I may judge from the tone of the public press,\nwhich represents the public voice, I have great reason to take heart\nat this time. I have been treated by contemporary critics in this\ncontroversy with great fairness and gentleness, and I am grateful to\nthem for it. However, the decision of the time and mode of my defence\nhas been taken out of my hands; and I am thankful that it has been\nso. I am bound now as a duty to myself, to the Catholic cause, to the\nCatholic priesthood, to give account of myself without any delay,\nwhen I am so rudely and circumstantially charged with untruthfulness.\nI accept the challenge; I shall do my best to meet it, and I shall be\ncontent when I have done so.\n\nI confine myself then, in these pages, to the charge of\nuntruthfulness; and I hereby cart away, as so much rubbish, the\nimpertinences, with which the pamphlet of Accusation swarms. I shall\nnot think it necessary here to examine, whether I am \"worked into a\npitch of confusion,\" or have \"carried self-deception to perfection,\"\nor am \"anxious to show my credulity,\" or am \"in a morbid state of\nmind,\" or \"hunger for nonsense as my food,\" or \"indulge in subtle\nparadoxes\" and \"rhetorical exaggerations,\" or have \"eccentricities\"\nor teach in a style \"utterly beyond\" my accuser's \"comprehension,\" or\ncreate in him \"blank astonishment,\" or \"exalt the magical powers of\nmy Church,\" or have \"unconsciously committed myself to a statement\nwhich strikes at the root of all morality,\" or \"look down on the\nProtestant gentry as without hope of heaven,\" or \"had better be sent\nto the furthest\" Catholic \"mission among the savages of the South\nseas,\" than \"to teach in an Irish Catholic University,\" or have\n\"gambled away my reason,\" or adopt \"sophistries,\" or have published\n\"sophisms piled upon sophisms,\" or have in my sermons \"culminating\nwonders,\" or have a \"seemingly sceptical method,\" or have\n\"barristerial ability\" and \"almost boundless silliness,\" or \"make\ngreat mistakes,\" or am \"a subtle dialectician,\" or perhaps have \"lost\nmy temper,\" or \"misquote Scripture,\" or am \"antiscriptural,\" or\n\"border very closely on the Pelagian heresy.\"--Pp. 5, 7, 26,\n29-34, 37, 38, 41, 43, 44, 48.\n\nThese all are impertinences; and the list is so long that I am almost\nsorry to have given them room which might be better used. However,\nthere they are, or at least a portion of them; and having noticed\nthem thus much, I shall notice them no more.\n\n\nComing then to the subject, which is to furnish the staple of my\npublication, the question of my truthfulness, I first direct\nattention to the passage which the Act of Accusation contains at p. 8\nand p. 42. I shall give my reason presently, why I begin with it.\n\nMy accuser is speaking of my sermon on Wisdom and Innocence, and he\nsays, \"It must be _remembered always_ that it is not a Protestant,\nbut a Romish sermon.\"--P. 8.\n\nThen at p. 42 he continues, \"Dr. Newman does not apply to it that\nepithet. He called it in his letter to me of the 7th of January\n(published by him) a 'Protestant' one. I remarked that, but\nconsidered it a mere slip of the pen. Besides, I have now nothing to\nsay to that letter. It is to his 'Reflections,' in p. 32, which are\nopen ground to me, that I refer. In them he deliberately repeats the\nepithet 'Protestant:' only he, in an utterly imaginary conversation,\nputs it into my mouth, 'which you preached when a Protestant.' I call\nthe man who preached that Sermon a Protestant? I should have sooner\ncalled him a Buddhist. _At that very time he was teaching his\ndisciples to scorn_ and repudiate that name of Protestant, under\nwhich, for some reason or other, he _now finds it convenient to take\nshelter_. If _he_ forgets, the world does not, the famous article in\nthe _British Critic_ (the then organ of his party), of three years\nbefore, July 1841, which, after denouncing the name of Protestant,\ndeclared the object of the party to be none other than the\n'_unprotestantising_' the English Church.\"\n\nIn this passage my accuser asserts or implies, 1, that the sermon, on\nwhich he originally grounded his slander against me in the January\nNo. of the magazine, was really and in matter of fact a \"Romish\"\nSermon; 2, that I ought in my pamphlet to have acknowledged this\nfact; 3, that I didn't. 4, That I actually called it instead a\nProtestant Sermon. 5, That at the time when I published it, twenty\nyears ago, I should have denied that it was a Protestant sermon. 6,\nBy consequence, I should in that denial have avowed that it was a\n\"Romish\" Sermon; 7, and therefore, not only, when I was in the\nEstablished Church, was I guilty of the dishonesty of preaching what\nat the time I knew to be a \"Romish\" Sermon, but now too, in 1864, I\nhave committed the additional dishonesty of calling it a Protestant\nsermon. If my accuser does not mean this, I submit to such reparation\nas I owe him for my mistake, but I cannot make out that he means\nanything else.\n\nHere are two main points to be considered; 1, I in 1864 have called\nit a Protestant Sermon. 2, He in 1844 and now has styled it a Popish\nSermon. Let me take these two points separately.\n\n1. Certainly, when I was in the English Church, I _did_ disown the\nword \"Protestant,\" and that, even at an earlier date than my accuser\nnames; but just let us see whether this fact is anything at all to\nthe purpose of his accusation. Last January 7th I spoke to this\neffect: \"How can you prove that _Father_ Newman informs us of a\ncertain thing about the Roman Clergy,\" by referring to a _Protestant_\nsermon of the Vicar of St. Mary's? My accuser answers me thus:\n\"There's a quibble! why, _Protestant_ is _not_ the word which you\nwould have used when at St. Mary's, and yet you use it now!\" Very\ntrue; I do; but what on earth does this matter to my _argument_? how\ndoes this word \"Protestant,\" which I used, tend in any degree to make\nmy argument a quibble? What word _should_ I have used twenty years\nago instead of \"Protestant?\" \"Roman\" or \"Romish?\" by no manner of\nmeans.\n\nMy accuser indeed says that \"it must always be remembered that it is\nnot a Protestant _but_ a Romish sermon.\" He implies, and, I suppose,\nhe thinks, that not to be a Protestant is to be a Roman; he may say\nso, if he pleases, but so did not say that large body who have been\ncalled by the name of Tractarians, as all the world knows. The\nmovement proceeded on the very basis of denying that position which\nmy accuser takes for granted that I allowed. It ever said, and it\nsays now, that there is something _between_ Protestant and Romish;\nthat there is a \"Via Media\" which is neither the one nor the other.\nHad I been asked twenty years ago, what the doctrine of the\nEstablished Church was, I should have answered, \"Neither Romish _nor_\nProtestant, _but_ 'Anglican' or 'Anglo-catholic.'\" I should never\nhave granted that the sermon was Romish; I should have denied, and\nthat with an internal denial, quite as much as I do now, that it was\na Roman or Romish sermon. Well then, substitute the word \"Anglican\"\nor \"Anglo-catholic\" for \"Protestant\" in my question, and see if the\nargument is a bit the worse for it--thus: \"How can you prove that\n_Father_ Newman informs us a certain thing about the Roman Clergy, by\nreferring to an _Anglican_ or _Anglo-catholic_ Sermon of the Vicar of\nSt. Mary's?\" The cogency of the argument remains just where it was.\nWhat have I gained in the argument, what has he lost, by my having\nsaid, not \"an Anglican Sermon,\" but \"a Protestant Sermon?\" What dust\nthen is he throwing into our eyes!\n\nFor instance: in 1844 I lived at Littlemore; two or three miles\ndistant from Oxford; and Littlemore lies in three, perhaps in four,\ndistinct parishes, so that of particular houses it is difficult to\nsay, whether they are in St. Mary's, Oxford, or in Cowley, or in\nIffley, or in Sandford, the line of demarcation running even through\nthem. Now, supposing I were to say in 1864, that \"twenty years ago I\ndid not live in Oxford, _because_ I lived out at Littlemore, in the\nparish of Cowley;\" and if upon this there were letters of mine\nproduced dated Littlemore, 1844, in one of which I said that \"I\nlived, not in Cowley, but at Littlemore, in St. Mary's parish,\" how\nwould that prove that I contradicted myself, and that therefore after\nall I must be supposed to have been living in Oxford in 1844? The\nutmost that would be proved by the discrepancy, such as it was,\nwould be, that there was some confusion either in me, or in the state\nof the fact as to the limits of the parishes. There would be no\nconfusion about the place or spot of my residence. I should be saying\nin 1864, \"I did not live in Oxford twenty years ago, because I lived\nat Littlemore in the Parish of Cowley.\" I should have been saying\nin 1844, \"I do not live in Oxford, because I live in St. Mary's,\nLittlemore.\" In either case I should be saying that my _habitat_ in\n1844 was _not_ Oxford, but Littlemore; and I should be giving the\nsame reason for it. I should be proving an _alibi_. I should be\nnaming the same place for the _alibi_; but twenty years ago I should\nhave spoken of it as St. Mary's, Littlemore, and to-day I should have\nspoken of it as Littlemore in the Parish of Cowley.\n\nAnd so as to my Sermon; in January, 1864, I called it a _Protestant_\nsermon, and not a Roman; but in 1844 I should, if asked, have called\nit an _Anglican_ sermon, and not a Roman. In both cases I should have\ndenied that it was Roman, and that on the ground of its being\nsomething else; though I should have called that something else, then\nby one name, now by another. The doctrine of the _Via Media_ is a\n_fact_, whatever name we give to it; I, as a Roman Priest, find it\nmore natural and usual to call it Protestant: I, as all Oxford Vicar,\nthought it more exact to call it Anglican; but, whatever I then\ncalled it, and whatever I now call it, I mean one and the same object\nby my name, and therefore not another object--viz. not the Roman\nChurch. The argument, I repeat, is sound, whether the _Via Media_ and\nthe Vicar of St. Mary's be called Anglican or Protestant.\n\nThis is a specimen of what my accuser means by my \"economies;\" nay,\nit is actually one of those special two, three, or four, committed\nafter February 1, which he thinks sufficient to connect me with the\nshifty casuists and the double-dealing moralists, as he considers\nthem, of the Catholic Church. What a \"Much ado about nothing!\"\n\n2. But, whether or not he can prove that I in 1864 have committed any\nlogical fault in calling my Sermon on Wisdom and Innocence a\nProtestant Sermon, he is and has been all along, most firm in the\nbelief himself that a Romish sermon it is; and this is the point on\nwhich I wish specially to insist. It is for this cause that I made\nthe above extract from his pamphlet, not merely in order to answer\nhim, though, when I had made it, I could not pass by the attack on me\nwhich it contains. I shall notice his charges one by one by and by;\nbut I have made this extract here in order to insist and to dwell on\nthis phenomenon--viz. that he does consider it an undeniable fact,\nthat the sermon is \"Romish,\"--meaning by \"Romish\" not \"savouring of\nRomish doctrine\" merely, but \"the work of a real Romanist, of a\nconscious Romanist.\" This belief it is which leads him to be so\nsevere on me, for now calling it \"Protestant.\" He thinks that,\nwhether I have committed any logical self-contradiction or not, I am\nvery well aware that, when I wrote it, I ought to have been\nelsewhere, that I was a conscious Romanist, teaching Romanism;--or if\nhe does not believe this himself, he wishes others to think so, which\ncomes to the same thing; certainly I prefer to consider that he\nthinks so himself, but, if he likes the other hypothesis better, he\nis welcome to it.\n\nHe believes then so firmly that the sermon was a \"Romish Sermon,\"\nthat he pointedly takes it for granted, before he has adduced a\nsyllable of proof of the matter of fact. He _starts_ by saying that\nit is a fact to be \"remembered.\" \"It _must_ be _remembered always_,\"\nhe says, \"that it is not a Protestant, but a Romish Sermon,\" (p. 8).\nIts Romish parentage is a great truth for the memory, not a thesis\nfor inquiry. Merely to refer his readers to the sermon is, he\nconsiders, to secure them on his side. Hence it is that, in his\nletter of January 18, he said to me, \"It seems to me, that, by\n_referring_ publicly to the Sermon on which my allegations are\nfounded, I have given every one _an opportunity of judging of their\ninjustice_,\" that is, an opportunity of seeing that they are\ntransparently just. The notion of there being a _Via Media_, held all\nalong by a large party in the Anglican Church, and now at least not\nless than at any former time, is too subtle for his intellect.\nAccordingly, he thinks it was an allowable figure of speech--not\nmore, I suppose, than an \"hyperbole\"--when referring to a sermon of\nthe Vicar of St. Mary's in the magazine, to say that it was the\nwriting of a Roman priest; and as to serious arguments to prove the\npoint, why, they may indeed be necessary, as a matter of form, in an\nact of accusation, such as his pamphlet, but they are superfluous to\nthe good sense of any one who will only just look into the matter\nhimself.\n\nNow, with respect to the so-called arguments which he ventures to put\nforward in proof that the sermon is Romish, I shall answer them,\ntogether with all his other arguments, in the latter portion of this\nreply; here I do but draw the attention of the reader, as I have said\nalready, to the phenomenon itself, which he exhibits, of an unclouded\nconfidence that the sermon is the writing of a virtual member of the\nRoman communion, and I do so because it has made a great impression\non my own mind, and has suggested to me the course that I shall\npursue in my answer to him.\n\nI say, he takes it for granted that the Sermon is the writing of a\nvirtual or actual, of a conscious Roman Catholic; and is impatient at\nthe very notion of having to prove it. Father Newman and the Vicar of\nSt. Mary's are one and the same: there has been no change of mind in\nhim; what he believed then he believes now, and what he believes now\nhe believed then. To dispute this is frivolous; to distinguish\nbetween his past self and his present is subtlety, and to ask for\nproof of their identity is seeking opportunity to be sophistical.\nThis writer really thinks that he acts a straightforward honest part,\nwhen he says \"A Catholic Priest informs us in his Sermon on Wisdom\nand Innocence preached at St. Mary's,\" and he thinks that I am the\nshuffler and quibbler when I forbid him to do so. So singular a\nphenomenon in a man of undoubted ability has struck me forcibly, and\nI shall pursue the train of thought which it opens.\n\nIt is not he alone who entertains, and has entertained, such an\nopinion of me and my writings. It is the impression of large classes\nof men; the impression twenty years ago and the impression now. There\nhas been a general feeling that I was for years where I had no right\nto be; that I was a \"Romanist\" in Protestant livery and service; that\nI was doing the work of a hostile church in the bosom of the English\nEstablishment, and knew it, or ought to have known it. There was no\nneed of arguing about particular passages in my writings, when the\nfact was so patent, as men thought it to be.\n\nFirst it was certain, and I could not myself deny it, that I scouted\nthe name \"Protestant.\" It was certain again, that many of the\ndoctrines which I professed were popularly and generally known as\nbadges of the Roman Church, as distinguished from the faith of the\nReformation. Next, how could I have come by them? Evidently, I had\ncertain friends and advisers who did not appear; there was some\nunderground communication between Stonyhurst or Oscott and my rooms\nat Oriel. Beyond a doubt, I was advocating certain doctrines, not\nby accident, but on an understanding with ecclesiastics of the old\nreligion. Then men went further, and said that I had actually been\nreceived into that religion, and withal had leave given me to profess\nmyself a Protestant still. Others went even further, and gave it out\nto the world, as a matter of fact, of which they themselves had the\nproof in their hands, that I was actually a Jesuit. And when the\nopinions which I advocated spread, and younger men went further than\nI, the feeling against me waxed stronger and took a wider range.\n\nAnd now indignation arose at the knavery of a conspiracy such as\nthis:--and it became of course all the greater, in consequence of its\nbeing the received belief of the public at large, that craft and\nintrigue, such as they fancied they beheld with their own eyes, were\nthe very instruments to which the Catholic Church has in these last\ncenturies been indebted for her maintenance and extension.\n\nThere was another circumstance still, which increased the irritation\nand aversion felt by the large classes, of whom I have been speaking,\nas regards the preachers of doctrines, so new to them and so\nunpalatable; and that was, that they developed them in so measured a\nway. If they were inspired by Roman theologians (and this was taken\nfor granted), why did they not speak out at once? Why did they keep\nthe world in such suspense and anxiety as to what was coming next,\nand what was to be the upshot of the whole? Why this reticence, and\nhalf-speaking, and apparent indecision? It was plain that the plan of\noperations had been carefully mapped out from the first, and that\nthese men were cautiously advancing towards its accomplishment, as\nfar as was safe at the moment; that their aim and their hope was to\ncarry off a large body with them of the young and the ignorant; that\nthey meant gradually to leaven the minds of the rising generation,\nand to open the gate of that city, of which they were the sworn\ndefenders, to the enemy who lay in ambush outside of it. And when in\nspite of the many protestations of the party to the contrary, there\nwas at length an actual movement among their disciples, and one went\nover to Rome, and then another, the worst anticipations and the worst\njudgments which had been formed of them received their justification.\nAnd, lastly, when men first had said of me, \"You will see, _he_ will\ngo, he is only biding his time, he is waiting the word of command\nfrom Rome,\" and, when after all, after my arguments and denunciations\nof former years, at length I did leave the Anglican Church for the\nRoman, then they said to each other, \"It is just as we said: I told\nyou so.\"\n\nThis was the state of mind of masses of men twenty years ago, who\ntook no more than an external and common-sense view of what was going\non. And partly the tradition, partly the effect of that feeling,\nremains to the present time. Certainly I consider that, in my own\ncase, it is the great obstacle in the way of my being favourably\nheard, as at present, when I have to make my defence. Not only am I\nnow a member of a most un-English communion, whose great aim is\nconsidered to be the extinction of Protestantism and the Protestant\nChurch, and whose means of attack are popularly supposed to be\nunscrupulous cunning and deceit, but besides, how came I originally\nto have any relations with the Church of Rome at all? did I, or my\nopinions, drop from the sky? how came I, in Oxford, _in gremio\nUniversitatis_, to present myself to the eyes of men in that\nfull-blown investiture of Popery? How could I dare, how could I have\nthe conscience, with warnings, with prophecies, with accusations\nagainst me, to persevere in a path which steadily advanced towards,\nwhich ended in, the religion of Rome? And how am I now to be trusted,\nwhen long ago I was trusted, and was found wanting?\n\nIt is this which is the strength of the case of my accuser against\nme;--not his arguments in themselves, which I shall easily crumble\ninto dust, but the bias of the court. It is the state of the\natmosphere; it is the vibration all around which will more or less\necho his assertion of my dishonesty; it is that prepossession against\nme, which takes it for granted that, when my reasoning is convincing\nit is only ingenious, and that when my statements are unanswerable,\nthere is always something put out of sight or hidden in my sleeve; it\nis that plausible, but cruel conclusion to which men are so apt to\njump, that when much is imputed, something must be true, and that it\nis more likely that one should be to blame, than that many should be\nmistaken in blaming him;--these are the real foes which I have to\nfight, and the auxiliaries to whom my accuser makes his court.\n\nWell, I must break through this barrier of prejudice against me, if I\ncan; and I think I shall be able to do so. When first I read the\npamphlet of Accusation, I almost despaired of meeting effectively\nsuch a heap of misrepresentation and such a vehemence of animosity.\nWhat was the good of answering first one point, and then another, and\ngoing through the whole circle of its abuse; when my answer to the\nfirst point would be forgotten, as soon as I got to the second? What\nwas the use of bringing out half a hundred separate principles or\nviews for the refutation of the separate counts in the indictment,\nwhen rejoinders of this sort would but confuse and torment the\nreader by their number and their diversity? What hope was there of\ncondensing into a pamphlet of a readable length, matter which ought\nfreely to expand itself into half a dozen volumes? What means was\nthere, except the expenditure of interminable pages, to set right\neven one of that series of \"single passing hints,\" to use my\nassailant's own language, which, \"as with his finger tip, he had\ndelivered\" against me?\n\nAll those separate charges of his had their force in being\nillustrations of one and the same great imputation. He had a positive\nidea to illuminate his whole matter, and to stamp it with a form, and\nto quicken it with an interpretation. He called me a _liar_--a\nsimple, a broad, an intelligible, to the English public a plausible\narraignment; but for me, to answer in detail charge one by reason\none, and charge two by reason two, and charge three by reason three,\nand so to proceed through the whole string both of accusations and\nreplies, each of which was to be independent of the rest, this would\nbe certainly labour lost as regards any effective result. What I\nneeded was a corresponding antagonist unity in my defence, and where\nwas that to be found? We see, in the case of commentators on the\nprophecies of Scripture, an exemplification of the principle on\nwhich I am insisting; viz. how much more powerful even a false\ninterpretation of the sacred text is than none at all;--how a certain\nkey to the visions of the Apocalypse, for instance, may cling to the\nmind--(I have found it so in my own case)--mainly because they are\npositive and objective, in spite of the fullest demonstration that\nthey really have no claim upon our belief. The reader says, \"What\nelse can the prophecy mean?\" just as my accuser asks, \"What, then,\ndoes Dr. Newman mean?\" ... I reflected, and I saw a way out of my\nperplexity.\n\nYes, I said to myself, his very question is about my _meaning_; \"What\ndoes Dr. Newman mean?\" It pointed in the very same direction as that\ninto which my musings had turned me already. He asks what I _mean_;\nnot about my words, not about my arguments, not about my actions, as\nhis ultimate point, but about that living intelligence, by which I\nwrite, and argue, and act. He asks about my mind and its beliefs and\nits sentiments; and he shall be answered;--not for his own sake, but\nfor mine, for the sake of the religion which I profess, and of the\npriesthood in which I am unworthily included, and of my friends and\nof my foes, and of that general public which consists of neither one\nnor the other, but of well-wishers, lovers of fair play, sceptical\ncross-questioners, interested inquirers, curious lookers-on, and\nsimple strangers, unconcerned yet not careless about the issue.\n\nMy perplexity did not last half an hour. I recognised what I had to\ndo, though I shrank from both the task and the exposure which it\nwould entail. I must, I said, give the true key to my whole life; I\nmust show what I am that it may be seen what I am not, and that the\nphantom may be extinguished which gibbers instead of me. I wish to be\nknown as a living man, and not as a scarecrow which is dressed up in\nmy clothes. False ideas may be refuted indeed by argument, but by\ntrue ideas alone are they expelled. I will vanquish, not my accuser,\nbut my judges. I will indeed answer his charges and criticisms on me\none by one, lest any one should say that they are unanswerable, but\nsuch a work shall not be the scope nor the substance of my reply. I\nwill draw out, as far as may be, the history of my mind; I will state\nthe point at which I began, in what external suggestion or accident\neach opinion had its rise, how far and how they were developed from\nwithin, how they grew, were modified, were combined, were in\ncollision with each other, and were changed; again how I conducted\nmyself towards them, and how, and how far, and for how long a time, I\nthought I could hold them consistently with the ecclesiastical\nengagements which I had made and with the position which I filled. I\nmust show--what is the very truth--that the doctrines which I held,\nand have held for so many years, have been taught me (speaking\nhumanly) partly by the suggestions of Protestant friends, partly by\nthe teaching of books, and partly by the action of my own mind: and\nthus I shall account for that phenomenon which to so many seems so\nwonderful, that I should have left \"my kindred and my father's house\"\nfor a Church from which once I turned away with dread;--so wonderful\nto them! as if forsooth a religion which has flourished through so\nmany ages, among so many nations, amid such varieties of social life,\nin such contrary classes and conditions of men, and after so many\nrevolutions, political and civil, could not subdue the reason and\novercome the heart, without the aid of fraud and the sophistries of\nthe schools.\n\n\nWhat I had proposed to myself in the course of half an hour, I\ndetermined on at the end of ten days. However, I have many\ndifficulties in fulfilling my design. How am I to say all that has to\nbe said in a reasonable compass? And then as to the materials of my\nnarrative; I have no autobiographical notes to consult, no written\nexplanations of particular treatises or of tracts which at the\ntime gave offence, hardly any minutes of definite transactions\nor conversations, and few contemporary memoranda, I fear, of the\nfeelings or motives under which from time to time I acted. I have an\nabundance of letters from friends with some copies or drafts of my\nanswers to them, but they are for the most part unsorted, and, till\nthis process has taken place, they are even too numerous and various\nto be available at a moment for my purpose. Then, as to the volumes\nwhich I have published, they would in many ways serve me, were I well\nup in them; but though I took great pains in their composition, I\nhave thought little about them, when they were at length out of my\nhands, and, for the most part, the last time I read them has been\nwhen I revised their proof sheets.\n\nUnder these circumstances my sketch will of course be incomplete. I\nnow for the first time contemplate my course as a whole; it is a\nfirst essay, but it will contain, I trust, no serious or substantial\nmistake, and so far will answer the purpose for which I write it. I\npurpose to set nothing down in it as certain, for which I have not a\nclear memory, or some written memorial, or the corroboration of some\nfriend. There are witnesses enough up and down the country to verify,\nor correct, or complete it; and letters moreover of my own in\nabundance, unless they have been destroyed.\n\nMoreover, I mean to be simply personal and historical: I am not\nexpounding Catholic doctrine, I am doing no more than explaining\nmyself, and my opinions and actions. I wish, as far as I am able,\nsimply to state facts, whether they are ultimately determined to\nbe for me or against me. Of course there will be room enough for\ncontrariety of judgment among my readers, as to the necessity, or\nappositeness, or value, or good taste, or religious prudence of the\ndetails which I shall introduce. I may be accused of laying stress on\nlittle things, of being beside the mark, of going into impertinent or\nridiculous details, of sounding my own praise, of giving scandal; but\nthis is a case above all others, in which I am bound to follow my own\nlights and to speak out my own heart. It is not at all pleasant for\nme to be egotistical; nor to be criticised for being so. It is not\npleasant to reveal to high and low, young and old, what has gone on\nwithin me from my early years. It is not pleasant to be giving to\nevery shallow or flippant disputant the advantage over me of knowing\nmy most private thoughts, I might even say the intercourse between\nmyself and my Maker. But I do not like to be called to my face a liar\nand a knave: nor should I be doing my duty to my faith or to my name,\nif I were to suffer it. I know I have done nothing to deserve such an\ninsult; and if I prove this, as I hope to do, I must not care for\nsuch incidental annoyances as are involved in the process.\n\n\n\n\nPart III\n\nHistory of My Religious Opinions\n\n\nIt may easily be conceived how great a trial it is to me to write the\nfollowing history of myself; but I must not shrink from the task. The\nwords, \"Secretum meum mihi,\" keep ringing in my ears; but as men draw\ntowards their end, they care less for disclosures. Nor is it the\nleast part of my trial, to anticipate that my friends may, upon first\nreading what I have written, consider much in it irrelevant to my\npurpose; yet I cannot help thinking that, viewed as a whole, it will\neffect what I wish it to do.\n\n\nI was brought up from a child to take great delight in reading the\nBible; but I had no formed religious convictions till I was fifteen.\nOf course I had perfect knowledge of my Catechism.\n\nAfter I was grown up, I put on paper such recollections as I had of\nmy thoughts and feelings on religious subjects, at the time that I\nwas a child and a boy. Out of these I select two, which are at once\nthe most definite among them, and also have a bearing on my later\nconvictions.\n\nIn the paper to which I have referred, written either in the long\nvacation of 1820, or in October, 1823, the following notices of my\nschool days were sufficiently prominent in my memory for me to\nconsider them worth recording:--\"I used to wish the Arabian Tales\nwere true: my imagination ran on unknown influences, on magical\npowers, and talismans ... I thought life might be a dream, or I an\nAngel, and all this world a deception, my fellow-angels by a playful\ndevice concealing themselves from me, and deceiving me with the\nsemblance of a material world.\"\n\nAgain, \"Reading in the Spring of 1816 a sentence from [Dr. Watts's]\n'Remnants of Time,' entitled 'the Saints unknown to the world,' to\nthe effect, that 'there is nothing in their figure or countenance to\ndistinguish them,' etc. etc., I supposed he spoke of Angels who lived\nin the world, as it were disguised.\"\n\nThe other remark is this: \"I was very superstitious, and for some\ntime previous to my conversion\" [when I was fifteen] \"used constantly\nto cross myself on going into the dark.\"\n\nOf course I must have got this practice from some external source or\nother; but I can make no sort of conjecture whence; and certainly no\none had ever spoken to me on the subject of the Catholic religion,\nwhich I only knew by name. The French master was an _emigre_ priest,\nbut he was simply made a butt, as French masters too commonly were in\nthat day, and spoke English very imperfectly. There was a Catholic\nfamily in the village, old maiden ladies we used to think; but I knew\nnothing but their name. I have of late years heard that there were\none or two Catholic boys in the school; but either we were carefully\nkept from knowing this, or the knowledge of it made simply no\nimpression on our minds. My brother will bear witness how free the\nschool was from Catholic ideas.\n\nI had once been into Warwick Street Chapel, with my father, who, I\nbelieve, wanted to hear some piece of music; all that I bore away\nfrom it was the recollection of a pulpit and a preacher and a boy\nswinging a censer.\n\nWhen I was at Littlemore, I was looking over old copy-books of my\nschool days, and I found among them my first Latin verse-book; and in\nthe first page of it, there was a device which almost took my breath\naway with surprise. I have the book before me now, and have just been\nshowing it to others. I have written in the first page, in my\nschool-boy hand, \"John H. Newman, February 11th, 1811, Verse Book;\"\nthen follow my first verses. Between \"Verse\" and \"Book\" I have drawn\nthe figure of a solid cross upright, and next to it is, what may\nindeed be meant for a necklace, but what I cannot make out to be\nanything else than a set of beads suspended, with a little cross\nattached. At this time I was not quite ten years old. I suppose I got\nthe idea from some romance, Mrs. Radcliffe's or Miss Porter's; or\nfrom some religious picture; but the strange thing is, how, among\nthe thousand objects which meet a boy's eyes, these in particular\nshould so have fixed themselves in my mind, that I made them thus\npractically my own. I am certain there was nothing in the churches\nI attended, or the prayer books I read, to suggest them. It must be\nrecollected that churches and prayer books were not decorated in\nthose days as I believe they are now.\n\nWhen I was fourteen, I read Paine's tracts against the Old Testament,\nand found pleasure in thinking of the objections which were contained\nin them. Also, I read some of Hume's essays; and perhaps that on\nMiracles. So at least I gave my father to understand; but perhaps it\nwas a brag. Also, I recollect copying out some French verses, perhaps\nVoltaire's, against the immortality of the soul, and saying to myself\nsomething like \"How dreadful, but how plausible!\"\n\nWhen I was fifteen (in the autumn of 1816) a great change of thought\ntook place in me. I fell under the influences of a definite creed,\nand received into my intellect impressions of dogma, which, through\nGod's mercy, have never been effaced or obscured. Above and beyond\nthe conversations and sermons of the excellent man, long dead, who\nwas the human means of this beginning of divine faith in me, was the\neffect of the books which he put into my hands, all of the school\nof Calvin. One of the first books I read was a work of Romaine's; I\nneither recollect the title nor the contents, except one doctrine,\nwhich of course I do not include among those which I believe to have\ncome from a divine source, viz. the doctrine of final perseverance. I\nreceived it at once, and believed that the inward conversion of which\nI was conscious (and of which I still am more certain than that I\nhave hands and feet) would last into the next life, and that I was\nelected to eternal glory. I have no consciousness that this belief\nhad any tendency whatever to lead me to be careless about pleasing\nGod. I retained it till the age of twenty-one, when it gradually\nfaded away; but I believe that it had some influence on my opinions,\nin the direction of those childish imaginations which I have already\nmentioned, viz. in isolating me from the objects which surrounded me,\nin confirming me in my mistrust of the reality of material phenomena,\nand making me rest in the thought of two and two only supreme and\nluminously self-evident beings, myself and my Creator;--for while I\nconsidered myself predestined to salvation, I thought others simply\npassed over, not predestined to eternal death. I only thought of the\nmercy to myself.\n\nThe detestable doctrine last mentioned is simply denied and abjured,\nunless my memory strangely deceives me, by the writer who made a\ndeeper impression on my mind than any other, and to whom (humanly\nspeaking) I almost owe my soul--Thomas Scott of Aston Sandford. I so\nadmired and delighted in his writings, that, when I was an\nundergraduate, I thought of making a visit to his parsonage, in order\nto see a man whom I so deeply revered. I hardly think I could have\ngiven up the idea of this expedition, even after I had taken my\ndegree; for the news of his death in 1821 came upon me as a\ndisappointment as well as a sorrow. I hung upon the lips of Daniel\nWilson, afterwards Bishop of Calcutta, as in two sermons at St.\nJohn's Chapel he gave the history of Scott's life and death. I had\nbeen possessed of his essays from a boy; his commentary I bought when\nI was an undergraduate.\n\nWhat, I suppose, will strike any reader of Scott's history and\nwritings, is his bold unworldliness and vigorous independence of\nmind. He followed truth wherever it led him, beginning with\nUnitarianism, and ending in a zealous faith in the Holy Trinity. It\nwas he who first planted deep in my mind that fundamental truth of\nreligion. With the assistance of Scott's essays, and the admirable\nwork of Jones of Nayland, I made a collection of Scripture texts in\nproof of the doctrine, with remarks (I think) of my own upon them,\nbefore I was sixteen; and a few months later I drew up a series of\ntexts in support of each verse of the Athanasian Creed. These papers\nI have still.\n\nBesides his unworldliness, what I also admired in Scott was his\nresolute opposition to Antinomianism, and the minutely practical\ncharacter of his writings. They show him to be a true Englishman, and\nI deeply felt his influence; and for years I used almost as proverbs\nwhat I considered to be the scope and issue of his doctrine,\n\"Holiness before peace,\" and \"Growth is the only evidence of life.\"\n\nCalvinists make a sharp separation between the elect and the world;\nthere is much in this that is parallel or cognate to the Catholic\ndoctrine; but they go on to say, as I understand them, very\ndifferently from Catholicism,--that the converted and the unconverted\ncan be discriminated by man, that the justified are conscious of\ntheir state of justification, and that the regenerate cannot fall\naway. Catholics on the other hand shade and soften the awful\nantagonism between good and evil, which is one of their dogmas, by\nholding that there are different degrees of justification, that there\nis a great difference in point of gravity between sin and sin, that\nthere is the possibility and the danger of falling away, and that\nthere is no certain knowledge given to any one that he is simply in a\nstate of grace, and much less that he is to persevere to the end:--of\nthe Calvinistic tenets the only one which took root in my mind was\nthe fact of heaven and hell, divine favour and divine wrath, of the\njustified and the unjustified. The notion that the regenerate and the\njustified were one and the same, and that the regenerate, as such,\nhad the gift of perseverance, remained with me not many years, as I\nhave said already.\n\nThis main Catholic doctrine of the warfare between the city of God\nand the powers of darkness was also deeply impressed upon my mind by\na work of a very opposite character, Law's \"Serious Call.\"\n\nFrom this time I have given a full inward assent and belief to the\ndoctrine of eternal punishment, as delivered by our Lord Himself, in\nas true a sense as I hold that of eternal happiness; though I have\ntried in various ways to make that truth less terrible to the reason.\n\nNow I come to two other works, which produced a deep impression on me\nin the same autumn of 1816, when I was fifteen years old, each\ncontrary to each, and planting in me the seeds of an intellectual\ninconsistency which disabled me for a long course of years. I read\nJoseph Milner's Church History, and was nothing short of enamoured\nof the long extracts from St. Augustine and the other Fathers which\nI found there. I read them as being the religion of the primitive\nChristians: but simultaneously with Milner I read Newton on the\nProphecies, and in consequence became most firmly convinced that the\nPope was the Antichrist predicted by Daniel, St. Paul, and St. John.\nMy imagination was stained by the effects of this doctrine up to the\nyear 1843; it had been obliterated from my reason and judgment at an\nearlier date; but the thought remained upon me as a sort of false\nconscience. Hence came that conflict of mind, which so many have felt\nbesides myself;--leading some men to make a compromise between two\nideas, so inconsistent with each other--driving others to beat out\nthe one idea or the other from their minds--and ending in my own\ncase, after many years of intellectual unrest, in the gradual decay\nand extinction of one of them--I do not say in its violent death, for\nwhy should I not have murdered it sooner, if I murdered it at all?\n\nI am obliged to mention, though I do it with great reluctance,\nanother deep imagination, which at this time, the autumn of 1816,\ntook possession of me--there can be no mistake about the fact;--viz.\nthat it was the will of God that I should lead a single life. This\nanticipation, which has held its ground almost continuously ever\nsince--with the break of a month now and a month then, up to 1829,\nand, after that date, without any break at all--was more or less\nconnected, in my mind, with the notion that my calling in life would\nrequire such a sacrifice as celibacy involved; as, for instance,\nmissionary work among the heathen, to which I had a great drawing for\nsome years. It also strengthened my feeling of separation from the\nvisible world, of which I have spoken above.\n\n\nIn 1822 I came under very different influences from those to which I\nhad hitherto been subjected. At that time, Mr. Whately, as he was\nthen, afterwards Archbishop of Dublin, for the few months he remained\nin Oxford, which he was leaving for good, showed great kindness to\nme. He renewed it in 1825, when he became Principal of Alban Hall,\nmaking me his vice-principal and tutor. Of Dr. Whately I will speak\npresently, for from 1822 to 1825 I saw most of the present Provost of\nOriel, Dr. Hawkins, at that time Vicar of St. Mary's; and, when I\ntook orders in 1824 and had a curacy at Oxford, then, during the long\nvacations, I was especially thrown into his company. I can say with a\nfull heart that I love him, and have never ceased to love him; and I\nthus preface what otherwise might sound rude, that in the course of\nthe many years in which we were together afterwards, he provoked me\nvery much from time to time, though I am perfectly certain that I\nhave provoked him a great deal more. Moreover, in me such provocation\nwas unbecoming, both because he was the head of my college, and\nbecause in the first years that I knew him, he had been in many ways\nof great service to my mind.\n\nHe was the first who taught me to weigh my words, and to be cautious\nin my statements. He led me to that mode of limiting and clearing my\nsense in discussion and in controversy, and of distinguishing between\ncognate ideas, and of obviating mistakes by anticipation, which to my\nsurprise has been since considered, even in quarters friendly to me,\nto savour of the polemics of Rome. He is a man of most exact mind\nhimself, and he used to snub me severely, on reading, as he was kind\nenough to do, the first sermons that I wrote, and other compositions\nwhich I was engaged upon.\n\nThen as to doctrine, he was the means of great additions to my\nbelief. As I have noticed elsewhere, he gave me the \"Treatise on\nApostolical Preaching,\" by Sumner, afterwards Archbishop of\nCanterbury, from which I learned to give up my remaining Calvinism,\nand to receive the doctrine of Baptismal Regeneration. In many other\nways too he was of use to me, on subjects semi-religious and\nsemi-scholastic.\n\nIt was Dr. Hawkins too who taught me to anticipate that, before many\nyears were over there would be an attack made upon the books and the\ncanon of Scripture. I was brought to the same belief by the\nconversation of Mr. Blanco White, who also led me to have freer views\non the subject of inspiration than were usual in the Church of\nEngland at the time.\n\nThere is one other principle, which I gained from Dr. Hawkins, more\ndirectly bearing upon Catholicism, than any that I have mentioned;\nand that is the doctrine of Tradition. When I was an undergraduate, I\nheard him preach in the University pulpit his celebrated sermon on\nthe subject, and recollect how long it appeared to me, though he was\nat that time a very striking preacher; but, when I read it and\nstudied it as his gift, it made a most serious impression upon me. He\ndoes not go one step, I think, beyond the high Anglican doctrine, nay\nhe does not reach it; but he does his work thoroughly, and his view\nwas original with him, and his subject was a novel one at the time.\nHe lays down a proposition, self-evident as soon as stated, to those\nwho have at all examined the structure of Scripture, viz. that the\nsacred text was never intended to teach doctrine, but only to prove\nit, and that, if we would learn doctrine, we must have recourse to\nthe formularies of the Church; for instance to the Catechism, and\nto the Creeds. He considers, that, after learning from them the\ndoctrines of Christianity, the inquirer must verify them by\nScripture. This view, most true in its outline, most fruitful in its\nconsequences, opened upon me a large field of thought. Dr. Whately\nheld it too. One of its effects was to strike at the root of the\nprinciple on which the Bible Society was set up. I belonged to its\nOxford Association; it became a matter of time when I should withdraw\nmy name from its subscription-list, though I did not do so at once.\n\nIt is with pleasure that I pay here a tribute to the memory of the\nRev. William James, then Fellow of Oriel; who, about the year 1823,\ntaught me the doctrine of Apostolical Succession, in the course of a\nwalk, I think, round Christ Church meadow: I recollect being somewhat\nimpatient on the subject at the time.\n\nIt was at about this date, I suppose, that I read Bishop Butler's\nAnalogy; the study of which has been to so many, as it was to me, an\nera in their religious opinions. Its inculcation of a visible Church,\nthe oracle of truth and a pattern of sanctity, of the duties of\nexternal religion, and of the historical character of revelation, are\ncharacteristics of this great work which strike the reader at once;\nfor myself, if I may attempt to determine what I most gained from it,\nit lay in two points, which I shall have an opportunity of dwelling\non in the sequel; they are the underlying principles of a great\nportion of my teaching. First, the very idea of an analogy between\nthe separate works of God leads to the conclusion that the system\nwhich is of less importance is economically or sacramentally\nconnected with the more momentous system, and of this conclusion the\ntheory, to which I was inclined as a boy, viz. the unreality of\nmaterial phenomena, is an ultimate resolution. At this time I did not\nmake the distinction between matter itself and its phenomena, which\nis so necessary and so obvious in discussing the subject. Secondly,\nButler's doctrine that probability is the guide of life, led me, at\nleast under the teaching to which a few years later I was introduced,\nto the question of the logical cogency of faith, on which I have\nwritten so much. Thus to Butler I trace those two principles of my\nteaching, which have led to a charge against me both of fancifulness\nand of scepticism.\n\nAnd now as to Dr. Whately. I owe him a great deal. He was a man of\ngenerous and warm heart. He was particularly loyal to his friends,\nand to use the common phrase, \"all his geese were swans.\" While I\nwas still awkward and timid in 1822, he took me by the hand, and\nacted the part to me of a gentle and encouraging instructor. He,\nemphatically, opened my mind, and taught me to think and to use my\nreason. After being first noticed by him in 1822, I became very\nintimate with him in 1825, when I was his Vice-Principal at Alban\nHall. I gave up that office in 1826, when I became tutor of my\nCollege, and his hold upon me gradually relaxed. He had done his work\ntowards me or nearly so, when he had taught me to see with my own\neyes and to walk with my own feet. Not that I had not a good deal to\nlearn from others still, but I influenced them as well as they me,\nand co-operated rather than merely concurred with them. As to Dr.\nWhately, his mind was too different from mine for us to remain long\non one line. I recollect how dissatisfied he was with an article of\nmine in the _London Review_, which Blanco White, good-humouredly,\nonly called platonic. When I was diverging from him (which he did not\nlike), I thought of dedicating my first book to him, in words to the\neffect that he had not only taught me to think, but to think for\nmyself. He left Oxford in 1831; after that, as far as I can\nrecollect, I never saw him but twice--when he visited the University;\nonce in the street, once in a room. From the time that he left, I\nhave always felt a real affection for what I must call his memory;\nfor thenceforward he made himself dead to me. My reason told me that\nit was impossible that we could have got on together longer; yet I\nloved him too much to bid him farewell without pain. After a few\nyears had passed, I began to believe that his influence on me in a\nhigher respect than intellectual advance (I will not say through his\nfault) had not been satisfactory. I believe that he has inserted\nsharp things in his later works about me. They have never come in my\nway, and I have not thought it necessary to seek out what would pain\nme so much in the reading.\n\nWhat he did for me in point of religious opinion, was first to teach\nme the existence of the Church, as a substantive body or corporation;\nnext to fix in me those anti-Erastian views of Church polity, which\nwere one of the most prominent features of the Tractarian movement.\nOn this point, and, as far as I know, on this point alone, he and\nHurrell Froude intimately sympathised, though Froude's development of\nopinion here was of a later date. In the year 1826, in the course of\na walk he said much to me about a work then just published, called\n\"Letters on the Church by an Episcopalian.\" He said that it would\nmake my blood boil. It was certainly a most powerful composition. One\nof our common friends told me, that, after reading it, he could not\nkeep still, but went on walking up and down his room. It was ascribed\nat once to Whately; I gave eager expression to the contrary opinion;\nbut I found the belief of Oxford in the affirmative to be too strong\nfor me; rightly or wrongly I yielded to the general voice; and I have\nnever heard, then or since, of any disclaimer of authorship on the\npart of Dr. Whately.\n\nThe main positions of this able essay are these; first that Church\nand State should be independent of each other:--he speaks of the duty\nof protesting \"against the profanation of Christ's kingdom, by that\n_double usurpation_, the interference of the Church in temporals, of\nthe State in spirituals,\" (p. 191); and, secondly, that the Church\nmay justly and by right retain its property, though separated from\nthe State. \"The clergy,\" he says p. 133, \"though they ought not to be\nthe hired servants of the Civil Magistrate, may justly retain their\nrevenues; and the State, though it has no right of interference in\nspiritual concerns, not only is justly entitled to support from the\nministers of religion, and from all other Christians, but would,\nunder the system I am recommending, obtain it much more effectually.\"\nThe author of this work, whoever he may be, argues out both these\npoints with great force and ingenuity, and with a thorough-going\nvehemence, which perhaps we may refer to the circumstance, that he\nwrote, not _in propria persona_, but in the professed character of a\nScotch Episcopalian. His work had a gradual, but a deep effect on my\nmind.\n\nI am not aware of any other religious opinion which I owe to Dr.\nWhately. For his special theological tenets I had no sympathy. In the\nnext year, 1827, he told me he considered that I was Arianising. The\ncase was this: though at that time I had not read Bishop Bull's\n_Defensio_ nor the Fathers, I was just then very strong for that\nante-Nicene view of the Trinitarian doctrine, which some writers,\nboth Catholic and non-Catholic, have accused of wearing a sort of\nArian exterior. This is the meaning of a passage in Froude's Remains,\nin which he seems to accuse me of speaking against the Athanasian\nCreed. I had contrasted the two aspects of the Trinitarian doctrine,\nwhich are respectively presented by the Athanasian Creed and the\nNicene. My criticisms were to the effect that some of the verses of\nthe former Creed were unnecessarily scientific. This is a specimen of\na certain disdain for antiquity which had been growing on me now for\nseveral years. It showed itself in some flippant language against the\nFathers in the Encyclopaedia Metropolitana, about whom I knew little\nat the time, except what I had learnt as a boy from Joseph Milner. In\nwriting on the Scripture Miracles in 1825-6, I had read Middleton on\nthe Miracles of the early Church, and had imbibed a portion of his\nspirit.\n\nThe truth is, I was beginning to prefer intellectual excellence to\nmoral; I was drifting in the direction of liberalism. I was rudely\nawakened from my dream at the end of 1827 by two great blows--illness\nand bereavement.\n\nIn the beginning of 1829, came the formal break between Dr. Whately\nand me; Mr. Peel's attempted re-election was the occasion of it.\nI think in 1828 or 1827 I had voted in the minority, when the\npetition to Parliament against the Catholic claims was brought into\nConvocation. I did so mainly on the views suggested to me by the\ntheory of the Letters of an Episcopalian. Also I disliked the\nbigoted \"two bottle orthodox,\" as they were invidiously called.\nI took part against Mr. Peel, on a simple academical, not at all\nan ecclesiastical or a political ground; and this I professed at\nthe time. I considered that Mr. Peel had taken the University by\nsurprise, that he had no right to call upon us to turn round on a\nsudden, and to expose ourselves to the imputation of time-serving,\nand that a great University ought not to be bullied even by a great\nDuke of Wellington. Also by this time I was under the influence of\nKeble and Froude; who, in addition to the reasons I have given,\ndisliked the Duke's change of policy as dictated by liberalism.\n\nWhately was considerably annoyed at me, and he took a humourous\nrevenge, of which he had given me due notice beforehand. As head of a\nhouse, he had duties of hospitality to men of all parties; he asked a\nset of the least intellectual men in Oxford to dinner, and men most\nfond of port; he made me one of the party; placed me between Provost\nthis and Principal that, and then asked me if I was proud of my\nfriends. However, he had a serious meaning in his act; he saw, more\nclearly than I could do, that I was separating from his own friends\nfor good and all.\n\nDr. Whately attributed my leaving his _clientela_ to a wish on my\npart to be the head of a party myself. I do not think that it was\ndeserved. My habitual feeling then and since has been, that it was\nnot I who sought friends, but friends who sought me. Never man had\nkinder or more indulgent friends than I have had, but I expressed my\nown feeling as to the mode in which I gained them, in this very year\n1829, in the course of a copy of verses. Speaking of my blessings, I\nsaid, \"Blessings of friends, which to my door, _unasked, unhoped_,\nhave come.\" They have come, they have gone; they came to my great\njoy, they went to my great grief. He who gave, took away. Dr.\nWhately's impression about me, however, admits of this explanation:--\n\nDuring the first years of my residence at Oriel, though proud of my\ncollege, I was not at home there. I was very much alone, and I used\noften to take my daily walk by myself. I recollect once meeting Dr.\nCopleston, then provost, with one of the fellows. He turned round,\nand with the kind courteousness which sat so well on him, made me a\nbow and said, \"Nunquam minus solus, quam cum solus.\" At that time\nindeed (from 1823) I had the intimacy of my dear and true friend Dr.\nPusey, and could not fail to admire and revere a soul so devoted to\nthe cause of religion, so full of good works, so faithful in his\naffections; but he left residence when I was getting to know him\nwell. As to Dr. Whately himself, he was too much my superior to allow\nof my being at my ease with him; and to no one in Oxford at this time\ndid I open my heart fully and familiarly. But things changed in 1826.\nAt that time I became one of the tutors of my college, and this gave\nme position; besides, I had written one or two essays which had been\nwell received. I began to be known. I preached my first University\nSermon. Next year I was one of the Public Examiners for the B.A.\ndegree. It was to me like the feeling of spring weather after winter;\nand, if I may so speak, I came out of my shell; I remained out of it\ntill 1841.\n\nThe two persons who knew me best at that time are still alive,\nbeneficed clergymen, no longer my friends. They could tell better\nthan any one else what I was in those years. From this time my tongue\nwas, as it were, loosened, and I spoke spontaneously and without\neffort. A shrewd man, who knew me at this time, said, \"Here is a man\nwho, when he is silent, will never begin to speak; and when he once\nbegins to speak, will never stop.\" It was at this time that I began\nto have influence, which steadily increased for a course of years.\nI gained upon my pupils, and was in particular intimate and\naffectionate with two of our probationer fellows, Robert I.\nWilberforce (afterwards archdeacon) and Richard Hurrell Froude.\nWhately then, an acute man, perhaps saw around me the signs of an\nincipient party of which I was not conscious myself. And thus we\ndiscern the first elements of that movement afterwards called\nTractarian.\n\nThe true and primary author of it, however, as is usual with great\nmotive-powers, was out of sight. Having carried off as a mere boy\nthe highest honours of the University, he had turned from the\nadmiration which haunted his steps, and sought for a better and\nholier satisfaction in pastoral work in the country. Need I say that\nI am speaking of John Keble? The first time that I was in a room with\nhim was on occasion of my election to a fellowship at Oriel, when I\nwas sent for into the Tower, to shake hands with the provost and\nfellows. How is that hour fixed in my memory after the changes of\nforty-two years, forty-two this very day on which I write! I have\nlately had a letter in my hands, which I sent at the time to my\ngreat friend, John Bowden, with whom I passed almost exclusively my\nUndergraduate years. \"I had to hasten to the tower,\" I say to him,\n\"to receive the congratulations of all the fellows. I bore it till\nKeble took my hand, and then felt so abashed and unworthy of the\nhonour done me, that I seemed desirous of quite sinking into the\nground.\" His had been the first name which I had heard spoken of,\nwith reverence rather than admiration, when I came up to Oxford. When\none day I was walking in High Street with my dear earliest friend\njust mentioned, with what eagerness did he cry out, \"There's Keble!\"\nand with what awe did I look at him! Then at another time I heard a\nmaster of arts of my college give an account how he had just then had\noccasion to introduce himself on some business to Keble, and how\ngentle, courteous, and unaffected Keble had been, so as almost to put\nhim out of countenance. Then too it was reported, truly or falsely,\nhow a rising man of brilliant reputation, the present Dean of St.\nPaul's, Dr. Milman, admired and loved him, adding, that somehow he\nwas unlike any one else. However, at the time when I was elected\nFellow of Oriel he was not in residence, and he was shy of me for\nyears in consequence of the marks which I bore upon me of the\nevangelical and liberal schools. At least so I have ever thought.\nHurrell Froude brought us together about 1828: it is one of the\nsayings preserved in his \"Remains,\"--\"Do you know the story of the\nmurderer who had done one good thing in his life? Well; if I was ever\nasked what good deed I had ever done, I should say that I had brought\nKeble and Newman to understand each other.\"\n\nThe Christian Year made its appearance in 1827. It is not necessary,\nand scarcely becoming, to praise a book which has already become one\nof the classics of the language. When the general tone of religious\nliterature was so nerveless and impotent, as it was at that time,\nKeble struck an original note and woke up in the hearts of thousands\na new music, the music of a school, long unknown in England. Nor can\nI pretend to analyse, in my own instance, the effect of religious\nteaching so deep, so pure, so beautiful. I have never till now tried\nto do so; yet I think I am not wrong in saying, that the two main\nintellectual truths which it brought home to me, were the same two,\nwhich I had learned from Butler, though recast in the creative mind\nof my new master. The first of these was what may be called, in a\nlarge sense of the word, the sacramental system; that is, the\ndoctrine that material phenomena are both the types and the\ninstruments of real things unseen,--a doctrine, which embraces, not\nonly what Anglicans, as well as Catholics, believe about sacraments\nproperly so called; but also the article of \"the Communion of Saints\"\nin its fulness; and likewise the mysteries of the faith. The\nconnection of this philosophy of religion with what is sometimes\ncalled \"Berkeleyism\" has been mentioned above; I knew little of\nBerkeley at this time except by name; nor have I ever studied him.\n\nOn the second intellectual principle which I gained from Mr. Keble, I\ncould say a great deal; if this were the place for it. It runs\nthrough very much that I have written, and has gained for me many\nhard names. Butler teaches us that probability is the guide of life.\nThe danger of this doctrine, in the case of many minds, is, its\ntendency to destroy in them absolute certainty, leading them to\nconsider every conclusion as doubtful, and resolving truth into an\nopinion, which it is safe to obey or to profess, but not possible to\nembrace with full internal assent. If this were to be allowed, then\nthe celebrated saying, \"O God, if there be a God, save my soul, if I\nhave a soul!\" would be the highest measure of devotion:--but who can\nreally pray to a being, about whose existence he is seriously in\ndoubt?\n\nI considered that Mr. Keble met this difficulty by ascribing the\nfirmness of assent which we give to religious doctrine, not to the\nprobabilities which introduced it, but to the living power of faith\nand love which accepted it. In matters of religion, he seemed to say,\nit is not merely probability which makes us intellectually certain,\nbut probability as it is put to account by faith and love. It is\nfaith and love which give to probability a force which it has not in\nitself. Faith and love are directed towards an object; in the vision\nof that object they live; it is that object, received in faith and\nlove, which renders it reasonable to take probability as sufficient\nfor internal conviction. Thus the argument about probability, in the\nmatter of religion, became an argument from personality, which in\nfact is one form of the argument from authority.\n\nIn illustration, Mr. Keble used to quote the words of the psalm: \"I\nwill guide thee with mine _eye_. Be ye not like to horse and mule,\nwhich have no understanding; whose mouths must be held with bit and\nbridle, lest they fall upon thee.\" This is the very difference, he\nused to say, between slaves, and friends or children. Friends do not\nask for literal commands; but, from their knowledge of the speaker,\nthey understand his half-words, and from love of him they anticipate\nhis wishes. Hence it is, that in his poem for St. Bartholomew's Day,\nhe speaks of the \"Eye of God's word;\" and in the note quotes Mr.\nMiller, of Worcester College, who remarks, in his Bampton Lectures,\non the special power of Scripture, as having \"this eye, like that of\na portrait, uniformly fixed upon us, turn where we will.\" The view\nthus suggested by Mr. Keble, is brought forward in one of the\nearliest of the \"Tracts for the Times.\" In No. 8 I say, \"The Gospel\nis a Law of Liberty. We are treated as sons, not as servants; not\nsubjected to a code of formal commandments, but addressed as those\nwho love God, and wish to please Him.\"\n\nI did not at all dispute this view of the matter, for I made use of\nit myself; but I was dissatisfied, because it did not go to the root\nof the difficulty. It was beautiful and religious, but it did not\neven profess to be logical; and accordingly I tried to complete it by\nconsiderations of my own, which are implied in my University sermons,\nEssay on Ecclesiastical Miracles, and Essay on Development of\nDoctrine. My argument is in outline as follows: that that absolute\ncertitude which we were able to possess, whether as to the truths of\nnatural theology, or as to the fact of a revelation, was the result\nof an _assemblage_ of concurring and converging probabilities, and\nthat, both according to the constitution of the human mind and the\nwill of its Maker; that certitude was a habit of mind, that certainty\nwas a quality of propositions; that probabilities which did not reach\nto logical certainty, might create a mental certitude; that the\ncertitude thus created might equal in measure and strength the\ncertitude which was created by the strictest scientific\ndemonstration; and that to have such certitude might in given cases\nand to given individuals be a plain duty, though not to others in\nother circumstances:--\n\nMoreover, that as there were probabilities which sufficed to create\ncertitude, so there were other probabilities which were legitimately\nadapted to create opinion; that it might be quite as much a matter of\nduty in given cases and to given persons to have about a fact an\nopinion of a definite strength and consistency, as in the case of\ngreater or of more numerous probabilities it was a duty to have a\ncertitude; that accordingly we were bound to be more or less sure, on\na sort of (as it were) graduated scale of assent, viz. according as\nthe probabilities attaching to a professed fact were brought home to\nus, and, as the case might be, to entertain about it a pious belief,\nor a pious opinion, or a religious conjecture, or at least, a\ntolerance of such belief, or opinion, or conjecture in others; that\non the other hand, as it was a duty to have a belief, of more or less\nstrong texture, in given cases, so in other cases it was a duty not\nto believe, not to opine, not to conjecture, not even to tolerate the\nnotion that a professed fact was true, inasmuch as it would be\ncredulity or superstition, or some other moral fault, to do so. This\nwas the region of private judgment in religion; that is, of a private\njudgment, not formed arbitrarily and according to one's fancy or\nliking, but conscientiously, and under a sense of duty.\n\nConsiderations such as these throw a new light on the subject of\nMiracles, and they seem to have led me to re-consider the view which\nI took of them in my Essay in 1825-6. I do not know what was the date\nof this change in me, nor of the train of ideas on which it was\nfounded. That there had been already great miracles, as those of\nScripture, as the Resurrection, was a fact establishing the principle\nthat the laws of nature had sometimes been suspended by their Divine\nAuthor; and since what had happened once might happen again, a\ncertain probability, at least no kind of improbability, was attached\nto the idea, taken in itself, of miraculous intervention in later\ntimes, and miraculous accounts were to be regarded in connection with\nthe verisimilitude, scope, instrument, character, testimony, and\ncircumstances, with which they presented themselves to us; and,\naccording to the final result of those various considerations, it was\nour duty to be sure, or to believe, or to opine, or to surmise, or to\ntolerate, or to reject, or to denounce. The main difference between\nmy essay on Miracles in 1826 and my essay in 1842 is this: that\nin 1826 I considered that miracles were sharply divided into two\nclasses, those which were to be received, and those which were to\nbe rejected; whereas in 1842 I saw that they were to be regarded\naccording to their greater or less probability, which was in some\ncases sufficient to create certitude about them, in other cases only\nbelief or opinion.\n\nMoreover, the argument from analogy, on which this view of the\nquestion was founded, suggested to me something besides, in\nrecommendation of the ecclesiastical miracles. It fastened itself\nupon the theory of church history which I had learned as a boy from\nJoseph Milner. It is Milner's doctrine, that upon the visible Church\ncome down from above, from time to time, large and temporary\n_Effusions_ of divine grace. This is the leading idea of his work. He\nbegins by speaking of the Day of Pentecost, as marking \"the first of\nthose _Effusions_ of the Spirit of God, which from age to age have\nvisited the earth since the coming of Christ\" (vol. i. p. 3). In a\nnote he adds that \"in the term 'Effusion' there is not here included\nthe idea of the miraculous or extraordinary operations of the Spirit\nof God;\" but still it was natural for me, admitting Milner's general\ntheory, and applying to it the principle of analogy, not to stop\nshort at his abrupt _ipse dixit_, but boldly to pass forward to the\nconclusion, on other grounds plausible, that, as miracles accompanied\nthe first effusion of grace, so they might accompany the later. It\nis surely a natural and on the whole, a true anticipation (though\nof course there are exceptions in particular cases), that gifts and\ngraces go together; now, according to the ancient Catholic doctrine,\nthe gift of miracles was viewed as the attendant and shadow of\ntranscendent sanctity: and moreover, as such sanctity was not of\nevery day's occurrence, nay further, as one period of Church history\ndiffered widely from another, and, as Joseph Milner would say, there\nhave been generations or centuries of degeneracy or disorder, and\ntimes of revival, and as one region might be in the mid-day of\nreligious fervour, and another in twilight or gloom, there was no\nforce in the popular argument, that, because we did not see miracles\nwith our own eyes, miracles had not happened in former times, or were\nnot now at this very time taking place in distant places:--but I must\nnot dwell longer on a subject, to which in a few words it is\nimpossible to do justice.\n\n\nHurrell Froude was a pupil of Keble's, formed by him, and in turn\nreacting upon him. I knew him first in 1826, and was in the closest\nand most affectionate friendship with him from about 1829 till his\ndeath in 1836. He was a man of the highest gifts--so truly\nmany-sided, that it would be presumptuous in me to attempt to\ndescribe him, except under those aspects, in which he came before me.\nNor have I here to speak of the gentleness and tenderness of nature,\nthe playfulness, the free elastic force and graceful versatility of\nmind, and the patient winning considerateness in discussion, which\nendeared him to those to whom he opened his heart; for I am all along\nengaged upon matters of belief and opinion, and am introducing others\ninto my narrative, not for their own sake, or because I love and have\nloved them, so much as because, and so far as, they have influenced\nmy theological views. In this respect then, I speak of Hurrell\nFroude--in his intellectual aspect--as a man of high genius, brimful\nand overflowing with ideas and views, in him original, which were too\nmany and strong even for his bodily strength, and which crowded and\njostled against each other in their effort after distinct shape and\nexpression. And he had an intellect as critical and logical as it was\nspeculative and bold. Dying prematurely, as he did, and in the\nconflict and transition-state of opinion, his religious views never\nreached their ultimate conclusion, by the very reason of their\nmultitude and their depth. His opinions arrested and influenced me,\neven when they did not gain my assent. He professed openly his\nadmiration of the Church of Rome, and his hatred of the reformers.\nHe delighted in the notion of an hierarchical system, or sacerdotal\npower and of full ecclesiastical liberty. He felt scorn of the maxim,\n\"The Bible and the Bible only is the religion of Protestants;\" and he\ngloried in accepting Tradition as a main instrument of religious\nteaching. He had a high severe idea of the intrinsic excellence of\nvirginity; and he considered the Blessed Virgin its great pattern.\nHe delighted in thinking of the saints; he had a keen appreciation\nof the idea of sanctity, its possibility and its heights; and he\nwas more than inclined to believe a large amount of miraculous\ninterference as occurring in the early and middle ages. He embraced\nthe principle of penance and mortification. He had a deep devotion to\nthe Real Presence, in which he had a firm faith. He was powerfully\ndrawn to the medieval church, but not to the primitive.\n\nHe had a keen insight into abstract truth; but he was an Englishman\nto the backbone in his severe adherence to the real and the concrete.\nHe had a most classical taste, and a genius for philosophy and art;\nand he was fond of historical inquiry, and the politics of religion.\nHe had no turn for theology as such. He had no appreciation of the\nwritings of the Fathers, of the detail or development of doctrine, of\nthe definite traditions of the Church viewed in their matter, of the\nteaching of the ecumenical councils, or of the controversies out of\nwhich they arose. He took an eager, courageous view of things on the\nwhole. I should say that his power of entering into the minds of\nothers did not equal his other gifts; he could not believe, for\ninstance, that I really held the Roman Church to be Antichristian. On\nmany points he would not believe but that I agreed with him, when I\ndid not. He seemed not to understand my difficulties. His were of a\ndifferent kind, the contrariety between theory and fact. He was a\nhigh Tory of the cavalier stamp, and was disgusted with the Toryism\nof the opponents of the Reform Bill. He was smitten with the love of\nthe theocratic church; he went abroad and was shocked by the\ndegeneracy which he thought he saw in the Catholics of Italy.\n\nIt is difficult to enumerate the precise additions to my theological\ncreed which I derived from a friend to whom I owe so much. He made me\nlook with admiration towards the Church of Rome, and in the same\ndegree to dislike the Reformation. He fixed deep in me the idea of\ndevotion to the Blessed Virgin, and he led me gradually to believe in\nthe Real Presence.\n\n\nThere is one remaining source of my opinions to be mentioned, and\nthat far from the least important. In proportion as I moved out of\nthe shadow of liberalism which had hung over my course, my early\ndevotion towards the fathers returned; and in the long vacation of\n1828 I set about to read them chronologically, beginning with St.\nIgnatius and St. Justin. About 1830 a proposal was made to me by Mr.\nHugh Rose, who with Mr. Lyall (afterwards Dean of Canterbury) was\nproviding writers for a theological library, to furnish them with a\nhistory of the principal councils. I accepted it, and at once set to\nwork on the Council of Nicaea. It was launching myself on an ocean\nwith currents innumerable; and I was drifted back first to the\nante-Nicene history, and then to the Church of Alexandria. The work\nat last appeared under the title of \"The Arians of the Fourth\nCentury;\" and of its 422 pages, the first 117 consisted of\nintroductory matter, and the Council of Nicaea did not appear till the\n254th, and then occupied at most twenty pages.\n\nI do not know when I first learnt to consider that antiquity was the\ntrue exponent of the doctrines of Christianity and the basis of the\nChurch of England; but I take it for granted that Bishop Bull, whose\nworks at this time I read, was my chief introduction to this\nprinciple. The course of reading which I pursued in the composition\nof my work was directly adapted to develop it in my mind. What\nprincipally attracted me in the ante-Nicene period was the great\nChurch of Alexandria, the historical centre of teaching in those\ntimes. Of Rome for some centuries comparatively little is known. The\nbattle of Arianism was first fought in Alexandria; Athanasius, the\nchampion of the truth, was Bishop of Alexandria; and in his writings\nhe refers to the great religious names of an earlier date, to Origen,\nDionysius, and others who were the glory of its see, or of its\nschool. The broad philosophy of Clement and Origen carried me away;\nthe philosophy, not the theological doctrine; and I have drawn out\nsome features of it in my volume, with the zeal and freshness, but\nwith the partiality of a neophyte. Some portions of their teaching,\nmagnificent in themselves, came like music to my inward ear, as if\nthe response to ideas, which, with little external to encourage\nthem, I had cherished so long. These were based on the mystical\nor sacramental principle, and spoke of the various economies or\ndispensations of the eternal. I understood them to mean that the\nexterior world, physical and historical, was but the outward\nmanifestation of realities greater than itself. Nature was a\nparable:[1] Scripture was an allegory: pagan literature, philosophy,\nand mythology, properly understood, were but a preparation for the\nGospel. The Greek poets and sages were in a certain sense prophets;\nfor \"thoughts beyond their thought to those high bards were given.\"\nThere had been a divine dispensation granted to the Jews; there had\nbeen in some sense a dispensation carried on in favour of the\nGentiles. He who had taken the seed of Jacob for His elect people,\nhad not therefore cast the rest of mankind out of His sight. In the\nfulness of time both Judaism and Paganism had come to nought; the\noutward framework, which concealed yet suggested the living truth,\nhad never been intended to last, and it was dissolving under the\nbeams of the sun of justice behind it and through it. The process of\nchange had been slow; it had been done not rashly, but by rule and\nmeasure, \"at sundry times and in divers manners,\" first one\ndisclosure and then another, till the whole was brought into full\nmanifestation. And thus room was made for the anticipation of further\nand deeper disclosures, of truths still under the veil of the letter,\nand in their season to be revealed. The visible world still remains\nwithout its divine interpretation; Holy Church in her sacraments and\nher hierarchical appointments, will remain even to the end of the\nworld, only a symbol of those heavenly facts which fill eternity. Her\nmysteries are but the expressions in human language of truths to\nwhich the human mind is unequal. It is evident how much there was in\nall this in correspondence with the thoughts which had attracted me\nwhen I was young, and with the doctrine which I have already\nconnected with the Analogy and the Christian Year.\n\nI suppose it was to the Alexandrian school and to the early church\nthat I owe in particular what I definitely held about the angels. I\nviewed them, not only as the ministers employed by the Creator in the\nJewish and Christian dispensations, as we find on the face of\nScripture, but as carrying on, as Scripture also implies, the economy\nof the visible world. I considered them as the real causes of motion,\nlight, and life, and of those elementary principles of the physical\nuniverse, which, when offered in their developments to our senses,\nsuggest to us the notion of cause and effect, and of what are called\nthe laws of nature. I have drawn out this doctrine in my sermon for\nMichaelmas day, written not later than 1834. I say of the angels,\n\"Every breath of air and ray of light and heat, every beautiful\nprospect, is, as it were, the skirts of their garments, the waving of\nthe robes of those whose faces see God.\" Again, I ask what would be\nthe thoughts of a man who, \"when examining a flower, or a herb, or a\npebble, or a ray of light, which he treats as something so beneath\nhim in the scale of existence, suddenly discovered that he was in the\npresence of some powerful being who was hidden behind the visible\nthings he was inspecting, who, though concealing his wise hand, was\ngiving them their beauty, grace, and perfection, as being God's\ninstrument for the purpose, nay, whose robe and ornaments those\nobjects were, which he was so eager to analyse?\" and I therefore\nremark that \"we may say with grateful and simple hearts with the\nThree Holy Children, 'O all ye works of the Lord, etc., etc., bless\nye the Lord, praise Him, and magnify Him for ever.'\"\n\nAlso, besides the hosts of evil spirits, I considered there was a\nmiddle race, [greek: daimonia], neither in heaven, nor in hell;\npartially fallen, capricious, wayward; noble or crafty, benevolent or\nmalicious, as the case might be. They gave a sort of inspiration or\nintelligence to races, nations, and classes of men. Hence the action\nof bodies politic and associations, which is so different often from\nthat of the individuals who compose them. Hence the character and\nthe instinct of states and governments, of religious communities and\ncommunions. I thought they were inhabited by unseen intelligences. My\npreference of the Personal to the Abstract would naturally lead me to\nthis view. I thought it countenanced by the mention of \"the Prince\nof Persia\" in the Prophet Daniel; and I think I considered that it\nwas of such intermediate beings that the Apocalypse spoke, when it\nintroduced \"the Angels of the Seven Churches.\"\n\nIn 1837 I made a further development of this doctrine. I said to my\ngreat friend, Samuel Francis Wood, in a letter which came into my\nhands on his death, \"I have an idea. The mass of the Fathers (Justin,\nAthenagoras, Irenaeus, Clement, Tertullian, Origen, Lactantius,\nSulpicius, Ambrose, Nazianzen), hold that, though Satan fell from the\nbeginning, the Angels fell before the deluge, falling in love with\nthe daughters of men. This has lately come across me as a remarkable\nsolution of a notion which I cannot help holding. Daniel speaks as if\neach nation had its guardian Angel. I cannot but think that there are\nbeings with a great deal of good in them, yet with great defects, who\nare the animating principles of certain institutions, etc., etc....\nTake England, with many high virtues, and yet a low Catholicism. It\nseems to me that John Bull is a Spirit neither of heaven nor hell....\nHas not the Christian Church, in its parts, surrendered itself to one\nor other of these simulations of the truth? ...How are we to avoid\nScylla and Charybdis and go straight on to the very image of Christ?\"\netc., etc.\n\nI am aware that what I have been saying will, with many men, be doing\ncredit to my imagination at the expense of my judgment--\"Hippoclides\ndoesn't care;\" I am not setting myself up as a pattern of good sense\nor of anything else: I am but vindicating myself from the charge of\ndishonesty.--There is indeed another view of the economy brought out,\nin the course of the same dissertation on the subject, in my History\nof the Arians, which has afforded matter for the latter imputation;\nbut I reserve it for the concluding portion of my reply.\n\n\nWhile I was engaged in writing my work upon the Arians, great events\nwere happening at home and abroad, which brought out into form and\npassionate expression the various beliefs which had so gradually been\nwinning their way into my mind. Shortly before, there had been a\nrevolution in France; the Bourbons had been dismissed: and I believed\nthat it was unchristian for nations to cast off their governors, and,\nmuch more, sovereigns who had the divine right of inheritance. Again,\nthe great Reform agitation was going on around me as I wrote. The\nWhigs had come into power; Lord Grey had told the Bishops to set\ntheir house in order, and some of the prelates had been insulted and\nthreatened in the streets of London. The vital question was how were\nwe to keep the Church from being liberalised? there was such apathy\non the subject in some quarters, such imbecile alarm in others; the\ntrue principles of Churchmanship seemed so radically decayed, and\nthere was such distraction in the councils of the clergy. The Bishop\nof London of the day, an active and open-hearted man, had been for\nyears engaged in diluting the high orthodoxy of the Church by the\nintroduction of the Evangelical body into places of influence and\ntrust. He had deeply offended men who agreed with myself, by an\noff-hand saying (as it was reported) to the effect that belief in the\napostolical succession had gone out with the non-jurors. \"We can\ncount you,\" he said to some of the gravest and most venerated persons\nof the old school. And the Evangelical party itself seemed, with\ntheir late successes, to have lost that simplicity and unworldliness\nwhich I admired so much in Milner and Scott. It was not that I did\nnot venerate such men as the then Bishop of Lichfield, and others of\nsimilar sentiments, who were not yet promoted out of the ranks of\nthe clergy, but I thought little of them as a class. I thought they\nplayed into the hands of the Liberals. With the Establishment thus\ndivided and threatened, thus ignorant of its true strength, I\ncompared that fresh vigorous power of which I was reading in the\nfirst centuries. In her triumphant zeal on behalf of that Primeval\nMystery, to which I had had so great a devotion from my youth, I\nrecognised the movement of my Spiritual Mother. \"Incessu patuit Dea.\"\nThe self-conquest of her ascetics, the patience of her martyrs, the\nirresistible determination of her bishops, the joyous swing of her\nadvance, both exalted and abashed me. I said to myself, \"Look on this\npicture and on that;\" I felt affection for my own Church, but not\ntenderness; I felt dismay at her prospects, anger and scorn at her\ndo-nothing perplexity. I thought that if Liberalism once got a\nfooting within her, it was sure of the victory in the event. I saw\nthat Reformation principles were powerless to rescue her. As to\nleaving her, the thought never crossed my imagination; still I ever\nkept before me that there was something greater than the Established\nChurch, and that that was the Church Catholic and Apostolic, set up\nfrom the beginning, of which she was but the local presence and\norgan. She was nothing, unless she was this. She must be dealt with\nstrongly, or she would be lost. There was need of a second\nReformation.\n\nAt this time I was disengaged from college duties, and my health had\nsuffered from the labour involved in the composition of my volume. It\nwas ready for the press in July, 1832, though not published till the\nend of 1833. I was easily persuaded to join Hurrell Froude and his\nFather, who were going to the south of Europe for the health of the\nformer.\n\nWe set out in December, 1832. It was during this expedition that my\nVerses which are in the Lyra Apostolica were written;--a few indeed\nbefore it, but not more than one or two of them after it. Exchanging,\nas I was, definite tutorial labours, and the literary quiet and\npleasant friendships of the last six years, for foreign countries and\nan unknown future, I naturally was led to think that some inward\nchanges, as well as some larger course of action, was coming upon me.\nAt Whitchurch, while waiting for the down mail to Falmouth, I wrote\nthe verses about my Guardian Angel, which begin with these words:\n\"Are these the tracks of some unearthly Friend?\" and go on to speak\nof \"the vision\" which haunted me:--that vision is more or less\nbrought out in the whole series of these compositions.\n\nI went to various coasts of the Mediterranean, parted with my friends\nat Rome; went down for the second time to Sicily, at the end of\nApril, and got back to England by Palermo in the early part of July.\nThe strangeness of foreign life threw me back into myself; I found\npleasure in historical sites and beautiful scenes, not in men and\nmanners. We kept clear of Catholics throughout our tour. I had a\nconversation with the Dean of Malta, a most pleasant man, lately\ndead; but it was about the Fathers, and the Library of the great\nchurch. I knew the Abbate Santini, at Rome, who did no more than copy\nfor me the Gregorian tones. Froude and I made two calls upon\nMonsignore (now Cardinal) Wiseman at the Collegio Inglese, shortly\nbefore we left Rome. I do not recollect being in a room with any\nother ecclesiastics, except a Priest at Castro-Giovanni in Sicily,\nwho called on me when I was ill, and with whom I wished to hold a\ncontroversy. As to Church Services, we attended the Tenebrae, at the\nSestine, for the sake of the Miserere; and that was all. My general\nfeeling was, \"All, save the spirit of man, is divine.\" I saw nothing\nbut what was external; of the hidden life of Catholics I knew\nnothing. I was still more driven back into myself, and felt my\nisolation. England was in my thoughts solely, and the news from\nEngland came rarely and imperfectly. The Bill for the Suppression of\nthe Irish Sees was in progress, and filled my mind. I had fierce\nthoughts against the Liberals.\n\nIt was the success of the Liberal cause which fretted me inwardly.\nI became fierce against its instruments and its manifestations. A\nFrench vessel was at Algiers; I would not even look at the tricolour.\nOn my return, though forced to stop a day at Paris, I kept indoors\nthe whole time, and all that I saw of that beautiful city, was what I\nsaw from the Diligence. The Bishop of London had already sounded me\nas to my filling one of the Whitehall preacherships, which he had\njust then put on a new footing; but I was indignant at the line which\nhe was taking, and from my steamer I had sent home a letter declining\nthe appointment by anticipation, should it be offered to me. At this\ntime I was specially annoyed with Dr. Arnold, though it did not last\ninto later years. Some one, I think, asked in conversation at Rome,\nwhether a certain interpretation of Scripture was Christian? it was\nanswered that Dr. Arnold took it; I interposed, \"But is _he_ a\nChristian?\" The subject went out of my head at once; when afterwards\nI was taxed with it I could say no more in explanation, than that I\nthought I must have been alluding to some free views of Dr. Arnold\nabout the Old Testament:--I thought I must have meant, \"But who is to\nanswer for Arnold?\" It was at Rome too that we began the Lyra\nApostolica which appeared monthly in the _British Magazine_. The\nmotto shows the feeling of both Froude and myself at the time: we\nborrowed from M. Bunsen a Homer, and Froude chose the words in which\nAchilles, on returning to the battle, says, \"You shall know the\ndifference, now that I am back again.\"\n\nEspecially when I was left by myself, the thought came upon me that\ndeliverance is wrought, not by the many but by the few, not by bodies\nbut by persons. Now it was, I think, that I repeated to myself the\nwords, which had ever been dear to me from my school days, \"Exoriare\naliquis!\"--now too, that Southey's beautiful poem of Thalaba, for\nwhich I had an immense liking, came forcibly to my mind. I began to\nthink that I had a mission. There are sentences of my letters to my\nfriends to this effect, if they are not destroyed. When we took leave\nof Monsignore Wiseman, he had courteously expressed a wish that we\nmight make a second visit to Rome; I said with great gravity, \"We\nhave a work to do in England.\" I went down at once to Sicily, and the\npresentiment grew stronger. I struck into the middle of the island,\nand fell ill of a fever at Leonforte. My servant thought that I was\ndying, and begged for my last directions. I gave them, as he wished;\nbut I said, \"I shall not die.\" I repeated, \"I shall not die, for I\nhave not sinned against light, I have not sinned against light.\" I\nnever have been able to make out at all what I meant.\n\nI got to Castro-Giovanni, and was laid up there for nearly three\nweeks. Towards the end of May I set off for Palermo, taking three\ndays for the journey. Before starting from my inn in the morning of\nMay 26th or 27th, I sat down on my bed, and began to sob bitterly. My\nservant, who had acted as my nurse, asked what ailed me. I could only\nanswer, \"I have a work to do in England.\"\n\nI was aching to get home; yet for want of a vessel I was kept at\nPalermo for three weeks. I began to visit the Churches, and they\ncalmed my impatience, though I did not attend any services. I knew\nnothing of the presence of the Blessed Sacrament there. At last I got\noff in an orange boat, bound for Marseilles. We were becalmed a whole\nweek in the Straits of Bonifacio. Then it was that I wrote the lines,\n\"Lead, kindly light,\" which have since become well known. I was\nwriting verses the whole time of my passage. At length I got to\nMarseilles, and set off for England. The fatigue of travelling was\ntoo much for me, and I was laid up for several days at Lyons. At last\nI got off again and did not stop night or day till I reached England,\nand my mother's house. My brother had arrived from Persia only a few\nhours before. This was on the Tuesday. The following Sunday, July\n14th, Mr. Keble preached the assize Sermon in the University Pulpit.\nIt was published under the title of \"National Apostasy.\" I have ever\nconsidered and kept the day, as the start of the religious movement\nof 1833.\n\nFootnote\n\n[1] _Vid_. Mr. Morris's beautiful poem with this title.\n\n\n\n\nPart IV\n\nHistory of My Religious Opinions--1833-1839\n\n\nIn spite of the foregoing pages, I have no romantic story to tell;\nbut I wrote them, because it is my duty to tell things as they took\nplace. I have not exaggerated the feelings with which I returned to\nEngland, and I have no desire to dress up the events which followed,\nso as to make them in keeping with the narrative which has gone\nbefore. I soon relapsed into the every-day life which I had hitherto\nled; in all things the same, except that a new object was given me.\nI had employed myself in my own rooms in reading and writing, and\nin the care of a church, before I left England, and I returned to\nthe same occupations when I was back again. And yet perhaps those\nfirst vehement feelings which carried me on were necessary for the\nbeginning of the movement; and afterwards, when it was once begun,\nthe special need of me was over.\n\n\nWhen I got home from abroad, I found that already a movement had\ncommenced in opposition to the specific danger which at that time was\nthreatening the religion of the nation and its church. Several\nzealous and able men had united their counsels, and were in\ncorrespondence with each other. The principal of these were Mr.\nKeble, Hurrell Froude, who had reached home long before me, Mr.\nWilliam Palmer of Dublin and Worcester College (not Mr. W. Palmer of\nMagdalen, who is now a Catholic), Mr. Arthur Perceval, and Mr. Hugh\nRose.\n\nTo mention Mr. Hugh Rose's name is to kindle in the minds of those\nwho knew him, a host of pleasant and affectionate remembrances. He\nwas the man above all others fitted by his cast of mind and literary\npowers to make a stand, if a stand could be made, against the\ncalamity of the times. He was gifted with a high and large mind, and\na true sensibility of what was great and beautiful; he wrote with\nwarmth and energy; and he had a cool head and cautious judgment.\nHe spent his strength and shortened his life, Pro Ecclesia Dei, as\nhe understood that sovereign idea. Some years earlier he had been\nthe first to give warning, I think from the university pulpit at\nCambridge, of the perils to England which lay in the biblical and\ntheological speculations of Germany. The Reform agitation followed,\nand the Whig government came into power; and he anticipated in their\ndistribution of church patronage the authoritative introduction of\nliberal opinions into the country:--by \"liberal\" I mean liberalism in\n_religion_, for questions of politics, as such, do not come into this\nnarrative at all. He feared that by the Whig party a door would be\nopened in England to the most grievous of heresies, which never could\nbe closed again. In order under such grave circumstances to unite\nChurchmen together, and to make a front against the coming danger, he\nhad in 1832 commenced the _British Magazine_, and in the same year he\ncame to Oxford in the summer term, in order to beat up for writers\nfor his publication; on that occasion I became known to him through\nMr. Palmer. His reputation and position came in aid of his obvious\nfitness, in point of character and intellect, to become the centre of\nan ecclesiastical movement, if such a movement were to depend on the\naction of a party. His delicate health, his premature death, would\nhave frustrated the expectation, even though the new school of\nopinion had been more exactly thrown into the shape of a party, than\nin fact was the case. But he zealously backed up the first efforts of\nthose who were principals in it; and, when he went abroad to die,\nin 1838, he allowed me the solace of expressing my feelings of\nattachment and gratitude to him by addressing him, in the dedication\nof a volume of my Sermons, as the man, \"who, when hearts were\nfailing, bade us stir up the gift that was in us, and betake\nourselves to our true Mother.\"\n\nBut there were other reasons, besides Mr. Rose's state of health,\nwhich hindered those who so much admired him from availing themselves\nof his close co-operation in the coming fight. United as both he and\nthey were in the general scope of the Movement, they were in\ndiscordance with each other from the first in their estimate of the\nmeans to be adopted for attaining it. Mr. Rose had a position in the\nchurch, a name, and serious responsibilities; he had direct\necclesiastical superiors; he had intimate relations with his own\nuniversity, and a large clerical connection through the country.\nFroude and I were nobodies; with no characters to lose, and no\nantecedents to fetter us. Rose could not go ahead across country, as\nFroude had no scruples in doing. Froude was a bold rider, as on\nhorseback, so also in his speculations. After a long conversation\nwith him on the logical bearing of his principles, Mr. Rose said\nof him with quiet humour, that \"he did not seem to be afraid of\ninferences.\" It was simply the truth; Froude had that strong hold of\nfirst principles, and that keen perception of their value, that he\nwas comparatively indifferent to the revolutionary action which would\nattend on their application to a given state of things; whereas in\nthe thoughts of Rose, as a practical man, existing facts had the\nprecedence of every other idea, and the chief test of the soundness\nof a line of policy lay in the consideration whether it would work.\nThis was one of the first questions, which, as it seemed to me, ever\noccurred to his mind. With Froude, Erastianism--that is, the union\n(so he viewed it) of church and state--was the parent, or if not the\nparent, the serviceable and sufficient tool, of liberalism. Till that\nunion was snapped, Christian doctrine never could be safe; and, while\nhe well knew how high and unselfish was the temper of Mr. Rose,\nyet he used to apply to him an epithet, reproachful in his own\nmouth;--Rose was a \"conservative.\" By bad luck, I brought out this\nword to Mr. Rose in a letter of my own, which I wrote to him in\ncriticism of something he had inserted into the Magazine: I got a\nvehement rebuke for my pains, for though Rose pursued a conservative\nline, he had as high a disdain, as Froude could have, of a worldly\nambition, and an extreme sensitiveness of such an imputation.\n\nBut there was another reason still, and a more elementary one, which\nsevered Mr. Rose from the Oxford movement. Living movements do not\ncome of committees, nor are great ideas worked out through the post,\neven though it had been the penny post. This principle deeply\npenetrated both Froude and myself from the first, and recommended\nto us the course which things soon took spontaneously, and without\nset purpose of our own. Universities are the natural centres of\nintellectual movements. How could men act together, whatever was\ntheir zeal, unless they were united in a sort of individuality?\nNow, first, we had no unity of place. Mr. Rose was in Suffolk, Mr.\nPerceval in Surrey, Mr. Keble in Gloucestershire; Hurrell Froude had\nto go for his health to Barbados. Mr. Palmer indeed was in Oxford;\nthis was an important advantage, and told well in the first months of\nthe Movement;--but another condition, besides that of place, was\nrequired.\n\nA far more essential unity was that of antecedents,--a common\nhistory, common memories, an intercourse of mind with mind in the\npast, and a progress and increase of that intercourse in the present.\nMr. Perceval, to be sure, was a pupil of Mr. Keble's; but Keble,\nRose, and Palmer, represented distinct parties, or at least tempers,\nin the Establishment. Mr. Palmer had many conditions of authority and\ninfluence. He was the only really learned man among us. He understood\ntheology as a science; he was practised in the scholastic mode of\ncontroversial writing; and I believe, was as well acquainted, as he\nwas dissatisfied, with the Catholic schools. He was as decided in his\nreligious views, as he was cautious and even subtle in their\nexpression, and gentle in their enforcement. But he was deficient in\ndepth; and besides, coming from a distance, he never had really grown\ninto an Oxford man, nor was he generally received as such; nor had he\nany insight into the force of personal influence and congeniality of\nthought in carrying out a religious theory,--a condition which Froude\nand I considered essential to any true success in the stand which had\nto be made against Liberalism. Mr. Palmer had a certain connection,\nas it may be called, in the Establishment, consisting of high Church\ndignitaries, archdeacons, London rectors, and the like, who belonged\nto what was commonly called the high-and-dry school. They were\nfar more opposed than even he was to the irresponsible action of\nindividuals. Of course their _beau ideal_ in ecclesiastical action\nwas a board of safe, sound, sensible men. Mr. Palmer was their organ\nand representative; and he wished for a Committee, an Association,\nwith rules and meetings, to protect the interests of the Church in\nits existing peril. He was in some measure supported by Mr. Perceval.\n\nI, on the other hand, had out of my own head begun the Tracts; and\nthese, as representing the antagonist principle of personality, were\nlooked upon by Mr. Palmer's friends with considerable alarm. The\ngreat point at the time with these good men in London,--some of them\nmen of the highest principle, and far from influenced by what we used\nto call Erastianism,--was to put down the Tracts. I, as their editor,\nand mainly their author, was not unnaturally willing to give way.\nKeble and Froude advocated their continuance strongly, and were angry\nwith me for consenting to stop them. Mr. Palmer shared the anxiety of\nhis own friends; and, kind as were his thoughts of us, he still not\nunnaturally felt, for reasons of his own, some fidget and nervousness\nat the course which his Oriel friends were taking. Froude, for whom\nhe had a real liking, took a high tone in his project of measures\nfor dealing with bishops and clergy, which must have shocked and\nscandalised him considerably. As for me, there was matter enough in\nthe early Tracts to give him equal disgust; and doubtless I much\ntasked his generosity, when he had to defend me, whether against the\nLondon dignitaries, or the country clergy. Oriel, from the time of\nDr. Copleston to Dr. Hampden, had had a name far and wide for\nliberality of thought; it had received a formal recognition from the\n_Edinburgh Review_, if my memory serves me truly, as the school of\nspeculative philosophy in England; and on one occasion, in 1833, when\nI presented myself, with some the first papers of the movement, to a\ncountry clergyman in Northamptonshire, he paused awhile, and then,\neyeing me with significance, asked, \"Whether Whately was at the\nbottom of them?\"\n\nMr. Perceval wrote to me in support of the judgment of Mr. Palmer and\nthe dignitaries. I replied in a letter, which he afterwards\npublished. \"As to the Tracts,\" I said to him (I quote my own words\nfrom his pamphlet), \"every one has his own taste. You object to\nsome things, another to others. If we altered to please every one,\nthe effect would be spoiled. They were not intended as symbols\n_e cathedra_, but as the expression of individual minds; and\nindividuals, feeling strongly, while on the one hand, they are\nincidentally faulty in mode or language, are still peculiarly\neffective. No great work was done by a system; whereas systems rise\nout of individual exertions. Luther was an individual. The very\nfaults of an individual excite attention; he loses, but his cause\n(if good and he powerful-minded) gains. This is the way of things:\nwe promote truth by a self-sacrifice.\"\n\nThe visit which I made to the Northamptonshire Rector was only one of\na series of similar expedients, which I adopted during the year 1833.\nI called upon clergy in various parts of the country, whether I was\nacquainted with them or not, and I attended at the houses of friends\nwhere several of them were from time to time assembled. I do not\nthink that much came of such attempts, nor were they quite in my way.\nAlso I wrote various letters to clergymen, which fared not much\nbetter, except that they advertised the fact, that a rally in favour\nof the church was commencing. I did not care whether my visits were\nmade to high church or low church; I wished to make a strong pull in\nunion with all who were opposed to the principles of liberalism,\nwhoever they might be. Giving my name to the editor, I commenced a\nseries of letters in the _Record_ newspaper: they ran to a\nconsiderable length; and were borne by him with great courtesy and\npatience. They were headed as being on \"Church Reform.\" The first was\non the Revival of Church Discipline; the second, on its Scripture\nproof; the third, on the application of the doctrine; the fourth,\nwas an answer to objections; the fifth, was on the benefits\nof discipline. And then the series was abruptly brought to a\ntermination. I had said what I really felt, and what was also in\nkeeping with the strong teaching of the Tracts, but I suppose the\nEditor discovered in me some divergence from his own line of thought;\nfor at length he sent a very civil letter, apologising for the\nnon-appearance of my sixth communication, on the ground that it\ncontained an attack upon \"Temperance Societies,\" about which he did\nnot wish a controversy in his columns. He added, however, his serious\nregret at the character of the Tracts. I had subscribed a small sum\nin 1828 towards the first start of the _Record_.\n\nActs of the officious character, which I have been describing, were\nuncongenial to my natural temper, to the genius of the movement, and\nto the historical mode of its success:--they were the fruit of that\nexuberant and joyous energy with which I had returned from abroad,\nand which I never had before or since. I had the exultation of health\nrestored, and home regained. While I was at Palermo and thought of\nthe breadth of the Mediterranean, and the wearisome journey across\nFrance, I could not imagine how I was ever to get to England; but now\nI was amid familiar scenes and faces once more. And my health and\nstrength came back to me with such a rebound, that some friends at\nOxford, on seeing me, did not well know that it was I, and hesitated\nbefore they spoke to me. And I had the consciousness that I was\nemployed in that work which I had been dreaming about, and which I\nfelt to be so momentous and inspiring. I had a supreme confidence in\nour cause; we were upholding that primitive Christianity which was\ndelivered for all time by the early teachers of the Church, and which\nwas registered and attested in the Anglican formularies and by the\nAnglican divines. That ancient religion had well nigh faded away out\nof the land, through the political changes of the last 150 years, and\nit must be restored. It would be in fact a second Reformation:--a\nbetter reformation, for it would be a return not to the sixteenth\ncentury, but to the seventeenth. No time was to be lost, for the\nWhigs had come to do their worst, and the rescue might come too late.\nBishopricks were already in course of suppression; Church property\nwas in course of confiscation; sees would soon be receiving\nunsuitable occupants. We knew enough to begin preaching upon, and\nthere was no one else to preach. I felt as on a vessel, which first\ngets under weigh, and then the deck is cleared out, and the luggage\nand live stock stored away into their proper receptacles.\n\nNor was it only that I had confidence in our cause, both in itself,\nand in its controversial force, but besides, I despised every rival\nsystem of doctrine and its arguments. As to the high church and the\nlow church, I thought that the one had not much more of a logical\nbasis than the other; while I had a thorough contempt for the\nevangelical. I had a real respect for the character of many of the\nadvocates of each party, but that did not give cogency to their\narguments; and I thought on the other hand that the apostolical form\nof doctrine was essential and imperative, and its grounds of evidence\nimpregnable. Owing to this confidence, it came to pass at that time,\nthat there was a double aspect in my bearing towards others, which it\nis necessary for me to enlarge upon. My behaviour had a mixture in it\nboth of fierceness and of sport; and on this account, I dare say, it\ngave offence to many; nor am I here defending it.\n\nI wished men to a agree with me, and I walked with them step by step,\nas far as they would go; this I did sincerely; but if they would\nstop, I did not much care about it, but walked on, with some\nsatisfaction that I had brought them so far. I liked to make them\npreach the truth without knowing it, and encouraged them to do so. It\nwas a satisfaction to me that the _Record_ had allowed me to say so\nmuch in its columns, without remonstrance. I was amused to hear of\none of the bishops, who, on reading an early Tract on the Apostolical\nSuccession, could not make up his mind whether he held the doctrine\nor not. I was not distressed at the wonder or anger of dull and\nself-conceited men, at propositions which they did not understand.\nWhen a correspondent, in good faith, wrote to a newspaper, to say\nthat the \"Sacrifice of the Holy Eucharist,\" spoken of in the Tract,\nwas a false print for \"Sacrament,\" I thought the mistake too pleasant\nto be corrected before I was asked about it. I was not unwilling to\ndraw an opponent on step by step to the brink of some intellectual\nabsurdity, and to leave him to get back as he could. I was not\nunwilling to play with a man, who asked me impertinent questions. I\nthink I had in my mouth the words of the wise man, \"Answer a fool\naccording to his folly,\" especially if he was prying or spiteful. I\nwas reckless of the gossip which was circulated about me; and, when I\nmight easily have set it right, did not deign to do so. Also I used\nirony in conversation, when matter-of-fact men would not see what I\nmeant.\n\nThis kind of behaviour was a sort of habit with me. If I have ever\ntrifled with my subject, it was a more serious fault. I never used\narguments which I saw clearly to be unsound. The nearest approach\nwhich I remember to such conduct, but which I consider was clear of\nit nevertheless, was in the case of Tract 15. The matter of this\nTract was supplied to me by a friend, to whom I had applied for\nassistance, but who did not wish to be mixed up with the publication.\nHe gave it me, that I might throw it into shape, and I took his\narguments as they stood. In the chief portion of the Tract I fully\nagreed; for instance, as to what it says about the Council of Trent;\nbut there were arguments, or some argument, in it which I did not\nfollow; I do not recollect what it was. Froude, I think, was\ndisgusted with the whole Tract, and accused me of _economy_ in\npublishing it. It is principally through Mr. Froude's Remains that\nthis word has got into our language. I think I defended myself with\narguments such as these:--that, as every one knew, the Tracts were\nwritten by various persons who agreed together in their doctrine, but\nnot always in the arguments by which it was to be proved; that we\nmust be tolerant of difference of opinion among ourselves; that the\nauthor of the Tract had a right to his own opinion, and that the\nargument in question was ordinarily received; that I did not give my\nown name or authority, nor was asked for my personal belief, but only\nacted instrumentally, as one might translate a friend's book into a\nforeign language. I account these to be good arguments; nevertheless\nI feel also that such practices admit of easy abuse and are\nconsequently dangerous; but then again, I feel also this,--that if\nall such mistakes were to be severely visited, not many men in public\nlife would be left with a character for honour and honesty.\n\nThis absolute confidence in my cause, which led me to the imprudence\nor wantonness which I have been instancing, also laid me open, not\nunfairly, to the opposite charge of fierceness in certain steps which\nI took, or words which I published. In the Lyra Apostolica, I have\nsaid that, before learning to love, we must \"learn to hate;\" though I\nhad explained my words by adding \"hatred of sin.\" In one of my first\nsermons I said, \"I do not shrink from uttering my firm conviction\nthat it would be a gain to the country were it vastly more\nsuperstitious, more bigoted, more gloomy, more fierce in its religion\nthan at present it shows itself to be.\" I added, of course, that it\nwould be an absurdity to suppose such tempers of mind desirable in\nthemselves. The corrector of the press bore these strong epithets\ntill he got to \"more fierce,\" and then he put in the margin a\n_query_. In the very first page of the first Tract, I said of the\nbishops, that, \"black event though it would be for the country, yet\nwe could not wish them a more blessed termination of their course,\nthan the spoiling of their goods and martyrdom.\" In consequence of a\npassage in my work upon the Arian History, a Northern dignitary wrote\nto accuse me of wishing to re-establish the blood and torture of the\nInquisition. Contrasting heretics and heresiarchs, I had said, \"The\nlatter should meet with no mercy; he assumes the office of the\nTempter, and, so far forth as his error goes, must be dealt with by\nthe competent authority, as if he were embodied evil. To spare him is\na false and dangerous pity. It is to endanger the souls of thousands,\nand it is uncharitable towards himself.\" I cannot deny that this is a\nvery fierce passage; but Arius was banished, not burned; and it is\nonly fair to myself to say that neither at this, nor any other time\nof my life, not even when I was fiercest, could I have even cut off a\nPuritan's ears, and I think the sight of a Spanish _auto-da-fe_ would\nhave been the death of me. Again, when one of my friends, of liberal\nand evangelical opinions, wrote to expostulate with me on the course\nI was taking, I said that we would ride over him and his, as Othniel\nprevailed over Chushan-rishathaim, king of Mesopotamia. Again, I\nwould have no dealings with my brother, and I put my conduct upon a\nsyllogism. I said, \"St. Paul bids us avoid those who cause divisions;\nyou cause divisions: therefore I must avoid you.\" I dissuaded a lady\nfrom attending the marriage of a sister who had seceded from the\nAnglican Church. No wonder that Blanco White, who had known me under\nsuch different circumstances, now hearing the general course that I\nwas taking, was amazed at the change which he recognised in me. He\nspeaks bitterly and unfairly of me in his letters contemporaneously\nwith the first years of the Movement; but in 1839, when looking back,\nhe uses terms of me, which it would be hardly modest in me to quote,\nwere it not that what he says of me in praise is but part of a whole\naccount of me. He says: \"In this party [the anti-Peel, in 1829] I\nfound, to my great surprise, my dear friend, Mr. Newman of Oriel. As\nhe had been one of the annual Petitioners to Parliament for Catholic\nEmancipation, his sudden union with the most violent bigots was\ninexplicable to me. That change was the first manifestation of the\nmental revolution, which has suddenly made him one of the leading\npersecutors of Dr. Hampden and the most active and influential member\nof that association, called the Puseyite party, from which we have\nthose very strange productions, entitled, Tracts for the Times. While\nstating these public facts, my heart feels a pang at the recollection\nof the affectionate and mutual friendship between that excellent man\nand myself; a friendship, which his principles of orthodoxy could not\nallow him to continue in regard to one, whom he now regards as\ninevitably doomed to eternal perdition. Such is the venomous\ncharacter of orthodoxy. What mischief must it create in a bad heart\nand narrow mind, when it can work so effectually for evil, in one of\nthe most benevolent of bosoms, and one of the ablest of minds, in the\namiable, the intellectual, the refined John Henry Newman!\" (Vol. iii.\np. 131.) He adds that I would have nothing to do with him, a\ncircumstance which I do not recollect, and very much doubt.\n\n\nI have spoken of my firm confidence in my position; and now let me\nstate more definitely what the position was which I took up, and the\npropositions about which I was so confident. These were three:--\n\n1. First was the principle of dogma: my battle was with liberalism;\nby liberalism I meant the anti-dogmatic principle and its\ndevelopments. This was the first point on which I was certain. Here I\nmake a remark: persistence in a given belief is no sufficient test of\nits truth; but departure from it is at least a slur upon the man who\nhas felt so certain about it. In proportion then as I had in 1832 a\nstrong persuasion in beliefs which I have since given up, so far a\nsort of guilt attaches to me, not only for that vain confidence, but\nfor my multiform conduct in consequence of it. But here I have the\nsatisfaction of feeling that I have nothing to retract, and nothing\nto repent of. The main principle of the Movement is as dear to me now\nas it ever was. I have changed in many things: in this I have not.\nFrom the age of fifteen, dogma has been the fundamental principle of\nmy religion: I know no other religion; I cannot enter into the idea\nof any other sort of religion; religion, as a mere sentiment, is to\nme a dream and a mockery. As well can there be filial love without\nthe fact of a father, as devotion without the fact of a Supreme\nBeing. What I held in 1816, I held in 1833, and I hold in 1864.\nPlease God, I shall hold it to the end. Even when I was under Dr.\nWhately's influence, I had no temptation to be less zealous for the\ngreat dogmas of the faith, and at various times I used to resist such\ntrains of thought on his part, as seemed to me (rightly or wrongly)\nto obscure them. Such was the fundamental principle of the Movement\nof 1833.\n\n2. Secondly, I was confident in the truth of a certain definite\nreligious teaching, based upon this foundation of dogma; viz. that\nthere was a visible church with sacraments and rites which are the\nchannels of invisible grace. I thought that this was the doctrine of\nScripture, of the early Church, and of the Anglican Church. Here\nagain, I have not changed in opinion; I am as certain now on this\npoint as I was in 1833, and have never ceased to be certain. In 1834\nand the following years I put this ecclesiastical doctrine on a\nbroader basis, after reading Laud, Bramhall, and Stillingfleet and\nother Anglican divines on the one hand, and after prosecuting the\nstudy of the Fathers on the other; but the doctrine of 1833 was\nstrengthened in me, not changed. When I began the Tracts for the\nTimes I rested the main doctrine, of which I am speaking, upon\nScripture, on St. Ignatius's Epistles, and on the Anglican Prayer\nBook. As to the existence of a visible church, I especially argued\nout the point from Scripture, in Tract 11, viz. from the Acts of the\nApostles and the Epistles. As to the sacraments and sacramental\nrites, I stood on the Prayer Book. I appealed to the Ordination\nService, in which the Bishop says, \"Receive the Holy Ghost;\" to the\nVisitation Service, which teaches confession and absolution; to the\nBaptismal Service, in which the Priest speaks of the child after\nbaptism as regenerate; to the Catechism, in which Sacramental\nCommunion is receiving \"verily the Body and Blood of Christ;\" to the\nCommination Service, in which we are told to do \"works of penance;\"\nto the Collects, Epistles, and Gospels, to the calendar and rubricks,\nwherein we find the festivals of the apostles, notice of certain\nother saints, and days of fasting and abstinence.\n\nAnd further, as to the Episcopal system, I founded it upon the\nEpistles of St. Ignatius, which inculcated it in various ways. One\npassage especially impressed itself upon me: speaking of cases of\ndisobedience to ecclesiastical authority, he says, \"A man does not\ndeceive that Bishop whom he sees, but he practises rather upon the\nBishop Invisible, and so the question is not with flesh, but with\nGod, who knows the secret heart.\" I wished to act on this principle\nto the letter, and I may say with confidence that I never consciously\ntransgressed it. I loved to act in the sight of my bishop, as if I\nwas, as it were, in the sight of God. It was one of my special\nsafeguards against myself and of my supports; I could not go very\nwrong while I had reason to believe that I was in no respect\ndispleasing him. It was not a mere formal obedience to rule that I\nput before me, but I desired to please him personally, as I\nconsidered him set over me by the Divine Hand. I was strict in\nobserving my clerical engagements, not only because they _were_\nengagements, but because I considered myself simply as the servant\nand instrument of my bishop. I did not care much for the bench of\nbishops, except as they might be the voice of my Church: nor should I\nhave cared much for a Provincial Council; nor for a Diocesan Synod\npresided over by my Bishop; all these matters seemed to me to be\n_jure ecclesiastico_, but what to me was _jure divino_ was the voice\nof my bishop in his own person. My own bishop was my pope; I knew no\nother; the successor of the apostles, the vicar of Christ. This was\nbut a practical exhibition of the Anglican theory of Church\nGovernment, as I had already drawn it out myself. This continued all\nthrough my course; when at length in 1845 I wrote to Bishop Wiseman,\nin whose Vicariate I found myself, to announce my conversion, I could\nfind nothing better to say to him, than that I would obey the Pope as\nI had obeyed my own Bishop in the Anglican Church. My duty to him was\nmy point of honour; his disapprobation was the one thing which I\ncould not bear. I believe it to have been a generous and honest\nfeeling; and in consequence I was rewarded by having all my time for\necclesiastical superior a man, whom had I had a choice, I should have\npreferred, out and out, to any other Bishop on the Bench, and for\nwhose memory I have a special affection, Dr. Bagot--a man of noble\nmind, and as kind-hearted and as considerate as he was noble. He ever\nsympathised with me in my trials which followed; it was my own fault,\nthat I was not brought into more familiar personal relations with him\nthan it was my happiness to be. May his name be ever blessed!\n\nAnd now in concluding my remarks on the second point on which my\nconfidence rested, I observe that here again I have no retractation\nto announce as to its main outline. While I am now as clear in my\nacceptance of the principle of dogma, as I was in 1833 and 1816,\nso again I am now as firm in my belief of a visible church, of\nthe authority of bishops, of the grace of the sacraments, of the\nreligious worth of works of penance, as I was in 1833. I have added\nArticles to my creed; but the old ones, which I then held with a\ndivine faith, remain.\n\n3. But now, as to the third point on which I stood in 1833, and which\nI have utterly renounced and trampled upon since--my then view of the\nChurch of Rome;--I will speak about it as exactly as I can. When I\nwas young, as I have said already, and after I was grown up, I\nthought the Pope to be Antichrist. At Christmas 1824-5 I preached a\nsermon to that effect. In 1827 I accepted eagerly the stanza in the\nChristian Year, which many people thought too charitable, \"Speak\n_gently_ of thy sister's fall.\" From the time that I knew Froude I\ngot less and less bitter on the subject. I spoke (successively, but I\ncannot tell in what order or at what dates) of the Roman Church as\nbeing bound up with \"the _cause_ of Antichrist,\" as being _one_ of\nthe \"_many_ antichrists\" foretold by St. John, as being influenced by\n\"the _spirit_ of Antichrist,\" and as having something \"very\nAntichristian\" or \"unchristian\" about her. From my boyhood and in\n1824 I considered, after Protestant authorities, that St. Gregory I.\nabout A.D. 600 was the first Pope that was Antichrist, and again that\nhe was also a great and holy man; in 1832-3 I thought the Church of\nRome was bound up with the cause of Antichrist by the Council of\nTrent. When it was that in my deliberate judgment I gave up the\nnotion altogether in any shape, that some special reproach was\nattached to her name, I cannot tell; but I had a shrinking from\nrenouncing it, even when my reason so ordered me, from a sort of\nconscience or prejudice, I think up to 1843. Moreover, at least\nduring the Tract Movement, I thought the essence of her offence to\nconsist in the honours which she paid to the Blessed Virgin and the\nsaints; and the more I grew in devotion, both to the saints and to\nOur Lady, the more impatient was I at the Roman practices, as if\nthose glorified creations of God must be gravely shocked, if pain\ncould be theirs, at the undue veneration of which they were the\nobjects.\n\nOn the other hand, Hurrell Froude in his familiar conversations was\nalways tending to rub the idea out of my mind. In a passage of one of\nhis letters from abroad, alluding, I suppose, to what I used to say\nin opposition to him, he observes: \"I think people are injudicious\nwho talk against the Roman Catholics for worshipping Saints, and\nhonouring the Virgin and images, etc. These things may perhaps be\nidolatrous; I cannot make up my mind about it; but to my mind it\nis the Carnival that is real practical idolatry, as it is written,\n'the people sat down to eat and drink, and rose up to play.'\" The\ncarnival, I observe in passing, is, in fact, one of those very\nexcesses, to which, for at least three centuries, religious Catholics\nhave ever opposed themselves, as we see in the life of St. Philip, to\nsay nothing of the present day; but this he did not know. Moreover,\nfrom Froude I learned to admire the great medieval Pontiffs; and, of\ncourse, when I had come to consider the Council of Trent to be the\nturning-point of the history of Christian Rome, I found myself as\nfree, as I was rejoiced, to speak in their praise. Then, when I was\nabroad, the sight of so many great places, venerable shrines, and\nnoble churches, much impressed my imagination. And my heart was\ntouched also. Making an expedition on foot across some wild country\nin Sicily, at six in the morning I came upon a small church; I heard\nvoices, and I looked in. It was crowded, and the congregation was\nsinging. Of course it was the Mass, though I did not know it at the\ntime. And, in my weary days at Palermo, I was not ungrateful for the\ncomfort which I had received in frequenting the Churches, nor did I\never forget it. Then, again, her zealous maintenance of the doctrine\nand the rule of celibacy, which I recognised as apostolic, and her\nfaithful agreement with Antiquity in so many points besides, which\nwere dear to me, was an argument as well as a plea in favour of the\ngreat Church of Rome. Thus I learned to have tender feelings towards\nher; but still my reason was not affected at all. My judgment was\nagainst her, when viewed as an institution, as truly as it ever had\nbeen.\n\nThis conflict between reason and affection I expressed in one of the\nearly Tracts, published July, 1834. \"Considering the high gifts and\nthe strong claims of the Church of Rome and its dependencies on our\nadmiration, reverence, love, and gratitude; how could we withstand\nit, as we do, how could we refrain from being melted into tenderness,\nand rushing into communion with it, but for the words of Truth\nitself, which bid us prefer It to the whole world? 'He that loveth\nfather or mother more than Me, is not worthy of Me.' How could 'we\nlearn to be severe, and execute judgment,' but for the warning of\nMoses against even a divinely-gifted teacher, who should preach new\ngods; and the anathema of St. Paul even against Angels and Apostles,\nwho should bring in a new doctrine?\"--_Records_, No. 24. My feeling\nwas something like that of a man, who is obliged in a court of\njustice to bear witness against a friend; or like my own now, when I\nhave said, and shall say, so many things on which I had rather be\nsilent.\n\nAs a matter, then, of simple conscience, though it went against my\nfeelings, I felt it to be a duty to protest against the Church of\nRome. But besides this, it was a duty, because the prescription of\nsuch a protest was a living principle of my own church, as expressed\nin not simply a _catena_, but a _consensus_ of her divines, and the\nvoice of her people. Moreover, such a protest was necessary as an\nintegral portion of her controversial basis; for I adopted the\nargument of Bernard Gilpin, that Protestants \"were _not able_ to give\nany _firm and solid_ reason of the separation besides this, to wit,\nthat the Pope is Antichrist.\" But while I thus thought such a protest\nto be based upon truth, and to be a religious duty, and a rule of\nAnglicanism, and a necessity of the case, I did not at all like the\nwork. Hurrell Froude attacked me for doing it; and, besides, I felt\nthat my language had a vulgar and rhetorical look about it. I\nbelieved, and really measured, my words, when I used them; but I knew\nthat I had a temptation, on the other hand, to say against Rome as\nmuch as ever I could, in order to protect myself against the charge\nof Popery.\n\nAnd now I come to the very point, for which I have introduced the\nsubject of my feelings about Rome. I felt such confidence in the\nsubstantial justice of the charges which I advanced against her, that\nI considered them to be a safeguard and an assurance that no harm\ncould ever arise from the freest exposition of what I used to call\nAnglican principles. All the world was astounded at what Froude and I\nwere saying: men said that it was sheer Popery. I answered, \"True, we\nseem to be making straight for it; but go on awhile, and you will\ncome to a deep chasm across the path, which makes real approximation\nimpossible.\" And I urged in addition, that many Anglican divines had\nbeen accused of Popery, yet had died in their Anglicanism;--now, the\necclesiastical principles which I professed, they had professed also;\nand the judgment against Rome which they had formed, I had formed\nalso. Whatever faults then the Anglican system might have, and\nhowever boldly I might point them out, anyhow that system was not\nvulnerable on the side of Rome, and might be mended in spite of her.\nIn that very agreement of the two forms of faith, close as it might\nseem, would really be found, on examination, the elements and\nprinciples of an essential discordance.\n\nIt was with this supreme persuasion on my mind that I fancied that\nthere could be no rashness in giving to the world in fullest measure\nthe teaching and the writings of the Fathers. I thought that the\nChurch of England was substantially founded upon them. I did not know\nall that the Fathers had said, but I felt that, even when their\ntenets happened to differ from the Anglican, no harm could come of\nreporting them. I said out what I was clear they had said; I spoke\nvaguely and imperfectly, of what I thought they said, or what some\nof them had said. Anyhow, no harm could come of bending the crooked\nstick the other way, in the process of straightening it; it was\nimpossible to break it. If there was anything in the Fathers of a\nstartling character, it would be only for a time; it would admit of\nexplanation; it could not lead to Rome. I express this view of the\nmatter in a passage of the preface to the first volume, which I\nedited, of the Library of the Fathers. Speaking of the strangeness at\nfirst sight, presented to the Anglican mind, of some of their\nprinciples and opinions, I bid the reader go forward hopefully, and\nnot indulge his criticism till he knows more about them, than he will\nlearn at the outset. \"Since the evil,\" I say, \"is in the nature of\nthe case itself, we can do no more than have patience, and recommend\npatience to others, and, with the racer in the Tragedy, look forward\nsteadily and hopefully to the _event_, [greek: to telei pistin pheron],\nwhen, as we trust, all that is inharmonious and anomalous in the\ndetails, will at length be practically smoothed.\"\n\nSuch was the position, such the defences, such the tactics, by which\nI thought that it was both incumbent on us, and possible to us, to\nmeet that onset of liberal principles, of which we were all in\nimmediate anticipation, whether in the Church or in the University.\nAnd during the first year of the Tracts, the attack upon the\nUniversity began. In November 1834 was sent to me by the author the\nsecond edition of a pamphlet entitled, \"Observations on Religious\nDissent, with particular reference to the use of religious tests in\nthe University.\" In this pamphlet it was maintained, that \"Religion\nis distinct from Theological Opinion\" (pp. 1, 28, 30, etc.); that it\nis but a common prejudice to identify theological propositions\nmethodically deduced and stated, with the simple religion of Christ\n(p. 1); that under Theological Opinion were to be placed the\nTrinitarian doctrine (p. 27), and the Unitarian (p. 19); that a dogma\nwas a theological opinion insisted on (pp. 20, 21); that speculation\nalways left an opening for improvement (p. 22); that the Church of\nEngland was not dogmatic in its spirit, though the wording of its\nformularies may often carry the sound of dogmatism (p. 23).\n\nI acknowledged the receipt of this work in the following letter:--\n\n\"The kindness which has led to your presenting me with your late\npamphlet, encourages me to hope that you will forgive me, if I take\nthe opportunity it affords of expressing to you my very sincere and\ndeep regret that it has been published. Such an opportunity I could\nnot let slip without being unfaithful to my own serious thoughts on\nthe subject.\n\n\"While I respect the tone of piety which the pamphlet displays, I\ndare not trust myself to put on paper my feelings about the\nprinciples contained in it; tending, as they do, in my opinion,\naltogether to make shipwreck of Christian faith. I also lament, that,\nby its appearance, the first step has been taken towards interrupting\nthat peace and mutual good understanding which has prevailed so long\nin this place, and which, if once seriously disturbed, will be\nsucceeded by dissensions the more intractable, because justified in\nthe minds of those who resist innovation by a feeling of imperative\nduty.\"\n\nSince that time Phaeton has got into the chariot of the sun; we,\nalas! can only look on, and watch him down the steep of heaven.\nMeanwhile, the lands, which he is passing over, suffer from his\ndriving.\n\n\nSuch was the commencement of the assault of liberalism upon the old\northodoxy of Oxford and England; and it could not have been broken,\nas it was, for so long a time, had not a great change taken place in\nthe circumstances of that counter-movement which had already started\nwith the view of resisting it. For myself, I was not the person to\ntake the lead of a party; I never was, from first to last, more than\na leading author of a school; nor did I ever wish to be anything\nelse. This is my own account of the matter, and I say it, neither as\nintending to disown the responsibility of what was done, nor as if\nungrateful to those who at that time made more of me than I deserved,\nand did more for my sake and at my bidding than I realised myself.\nI am giving my history from my own point of sight, and it is as\nfollows:--I had lived for ten years among my personal friends; the\ngreater part of the time, I had been influenced, not influencing; and\nat no time have I acted on others, without their acting upon me. As\nis the custom of a university, I had lived with my private, nay, with\nsome of my public, pupils, and with the junior fellows of my college,\nwithout form or distance, on a footing of equality. Thus it was\nthrough friends, younger, for the most part, than myself, that my\nprinciples were spreading. They heard what I said in conversation,\nand told it to others. Undergraduates in due time took their degree,\nand became private tutors themselves. In this new _status_, in turn,\nthey preached the opinions which they had already learned themselves.\nOthers went down to the country, and became curates of parishes.\nThen they had down from London parcels of the Tracts, and other\npublications. They placed them in the shops of local booksellers,\ngot them into newspapers, introduced them to clerical meetings, and\nconverted more or less their rectors and their brother curates. Thus\nthe Movement, viewed with relation to myself, was but a floating\nopinion; it was not a power. It never would have been a power, if it\nhad remained in my hands. Years after, a friend, writing to me in\nremonstrance at the excesses, as he thought them, of my disciples,\napplied to me my own verse about St. Gregory Nazianzen, \"Thou couldst\na people raise, but couldst not rule.\" At the time that he wrote to\nme, I had special impediments in the way of such an exercise of\npower; but at no time could I exercise over others that authority,\nwhich under the circumstances was imperatively required. My great\nprinciple ever was, live and let live. I never had the staidness or\ndignity necessary for a leader. To the last I never recognised the\nhold I had over young men. Of late years I have read and heard that\nthey even imitated me in various ways. I was quite unconscious of it,\nand I think my immediate friends knew too well how disgusted I should\nbe at the news, to have the heart to tell me. I felt great impatience\nat our being called a party, and would not allow that we were. I had\na lounging, free-and-easy way of carrying things on. I exercised no\nsufficient censorship upon the Tracts. I did not confine them to the\nwritings of such persons as agreed in all things with myself; and, as\nto my own Tracts, I printed on them a notice to the effect, that any\none who pleased, might make what use he would of them, and reprint\nthem with alterations if he chose, under the conviction that their\nmain scope could not be damaged by such a process. It was the same\nafterwards, as regards other publications. For two years I furnished\na certain number of sheets for the _British Critic_ from myself and\nmy friends, while a gentleman was editor, a man of splendid talent,\nwho, however, was scarcely an acquaintance of mine, and had no\nsympathy with the Tracts. When I was Editor myself, from 1838 to\n1841, in my very first number, I suffered to appear a critique\nunfavourable to my work on Justification, which had been published a\nfew months before, from a feeling of propriety, because I had put the\nbook into the hands of the writer who so handled it. Afterwards I\nsuffered an article against the Jesuits to appear in it, of which I\ndid not like the tone. When I had to provide a curate for my new\nchurch at Littlemore, I engaged a friend, by no fault of his, who,\nbefore he entered into his charge, preached a sermon, either in\ndepreciation of baptismal regeneration, or of Dr. Pusey's view of it.\nI showed a similar easiness as to the editors who helped me in the\nseparate volumes of Fleury's Church History; they were able, learned,\nand excellent men, but their after history has shown, how little my\nchoice of them was influenced by any notion I could have had of any\nintimate agreement of opinion between them and myself. I shall have\nto make the same remark in its place concerning the Lives of the\nEnglish Saints, which subsequently appeared. All this may seem\ninconsistent with what I have said of my fierceness. I am not bound\nto account for it; but there have been men before me, fierce in act,\nyet tolerant and moderate in their reasonings; at least, so I read\nhistory. However, such was the case, and such its effect upon the\nTracts. These at first starting were short, hasty, and some of them\nineffective; and at the end of the year, when collected into a\nvolume, they had a slovenly appearance.\n\nIt was under these circumstances, that Dr. Pusey joined us. I\nhad known him well since 1827-8, and had felt for him an\nenthusiastic admiration. I used to call him [greek: ho megas].\nHis great learning, his immense diligence, his scholarlike mind, his\nsimple devotion to the cause of religion, overcame me; and great\nof course was my joy, when in the last days of 1833 he showed a\ndisposition to make common cause with us. His tract on Fasting\nappeared as one of the series with the date of December 21. He was\nnot, however, I think fully associated in the Movement till 1835 and\n1836, when he published his tract on Baptism, and started the Library\nof the Fathers. He at once gave to us a position and a name. Without\nhim we should have had no chance, especially at the early date of\n1834, of making any serious resistance to the liberal aggression.\nBut Dr. Pusey was a Professor and Canon of Christ Church; he had a\nvast influence in consequence of his deep religious seriousness,\nthe munificence of his charities, his Professorship, his family\nconnections, and his easy relations with university authorities.\nHe was to the Movement all that Mr. Rose might have been, with that\nindispensable addition, which was wanting to Mr. Rose, the intimate\nfriendship and the familiar daily society of the persons who had\ncommenced it. And he had that special claim on their attachment,\nwhich lies in the living presence of a faithful and loyal\naffectionateness. There was henceforth a man who could be the\nhead and centre of the zealous people in every part of the country,\nwho were adopting the new opinions; and not only so, but there was\none who furnished the Movement with a front to the world, and gained\nfor it a recognition from other parties in the University. In\n1829 Mr. Froude, or Mr. R. Wilberforce, or Mr. Newman were but\nindividuals; and, when they ranged themselves in the contest of that\nyear on the side of Sir Robert Inglis, men on either side only asked\nwith surprise how they got there, and attached no significancy to\nthe fact; but Dr. Pusey was, to use the common expression, a host in\nhimself; he was able to give a name, a form, and a personality to\nwhat was without him a sort of mob; and when various parties had to\nmeet together in order to resist the liberal acts of the Government,\nwe of the Movement took our place by right among them.\n\nSuch was the benefit which he conferred on the Movement externally;\nnor was the internal advantage at all inferior to it. He was a man of\nlarge designs; he had a hopeful, sanguine mind; he had no fear of\nothers; he was haunted by no intellectual perplexities. People are\napt to say that he was once nearer to the Catholic Church than he is\nnow; I pray God that he may be one day far nearer to the Catholic\nChurch than he was then; for I believe that, in his reason and\njudgment, all the time that I knew him, he never was near to it at\nall. When I became a Catholic, I was often asked, \"What of Dr.\nPusey?\" when I said that I did not see symptoms of his doing as I\nhad done, I was sometimes thought uncharitable. If confidence in his\nposition is (as it is), a first essential in the leader of a party,\nDr. Pusey had it. The most remarkable instance of this, was his\nstatement, in one of his subsequent defences of the Movement, when\ntoo it had advanced a considerable way in the direction of Rome, that\namong its hopeful peculiarities was its \"stationariness.\" He made it\nin good faith; it was his subjective view of it.\n\nDr. Pusey's influence was felt at once. He saw that there ought to be\nmore sobriety, more gravity, more careful pains, more sense of\nresponsibility in the Tracts and in the whole Movement. It was\nthrough him that the character of the Tracts was changed. When he\ngave to us his Tract on Fasting, he put his initials to it. In 1835\nhe published his elaborate treatise on Baptism, which was followed by\nother Tracts from different authors, if not of equal learning, yet of\nequal power and appositeness. The Catenas of Anglican divines which\noccur in the series, though projected, I think, by me, were executed\nwith a like aim at greater accuracy and method. In 1836 he advertised\nhis great project for a Translation of the Fathers:--but I must\nreturn to myself. I am not writing the history either of Dr. Pusey or\nof the Movement; but it is a pleasure to me to have been able to\nintroduce here reminiscences of the place which he held in it, which\nhave so direct a bearing on myself, that they are no digression from\nmy narrative.\n\n\nI suspect it was Dr. Pusey's influence and example which set me, and\nmade me set others, on the larger and more careful works in defence\nof the principles of the Movement which followed in a course of\nyears,--some of them demanding and receiving from their authors, such\nelaborate treatment that they did not make their appearance till both\nits temper and its fortunes had changed. I set about a work at once;\none in which was brought out with precision the relation in which we\nstood to the Church of Rome. We could not move a step in comfort till\nthis was done. It was of absolute necessity and a plain duty, to\nprovide as soon as possible a large statement, which would encourage\nand re-assure our friends, and repel the attacks of our opponents. A\ncry was heard on all sides of us, that the Tracts and the writings of\nthe Fathers would lead us to become Catholics, before we were aware\nof it. This was loudly expressed by members of the Evangelical party,\nwho in 1836 had joined us in making a protest in Convocation against\na memorable appointment of the Prime Minister. These clergymen even\nthen avowed their desire, that the next time they were brought up to\nOxford to give a vote, it might be in order to put down the popery of\nthe Movement. There was another reason still, and quite as important.\nMonsignore Wiseman, with the acuteness and zeal which might be\nexpected from that great prelate, had anticipated what was coming,\nhad returned to England in 1836, had delivered lectures in London on\nthe doctrines of Catholicism, and created an impression through the\ncountry, shared in by ourselves, that we had for our opponents\nin controversy, not only our brethren, but our hereditary foes.\nThese were the circumstances, which led to my publication of \"The\nProphetical office of the Church viewed relatively to Romanism and\nPopular Protestantism.\"\n\nThis work employed me for three years, from the beginning of 1834 to\nthe end of 1836. It was composed, after a careful consideration and\ncomparison of the principal Anglican divines of the seventeenth\ncentury. It was first written in the shape of controversial\ncorrespondence with a learned French Priest; then it was re-cast, and\ndelivered in Lectures at St. Mary's: lastly, with considerable\nretrenchments and additions, it was re-written for publication.\n\nIt attempts to trace out the rudimental lines on which Christian\nfaith and teaching proceed, and to use them as means of determining\nthe relation of the Roman and Anglican systems to each other. In this\nway it shows that to confuse the two together is impossible, and that\nthe Anglican can be as little said to tend to the Roman, as the Roman\nto the Anglican. The spirit of the volume is not so gentle to the\nChurch of Rome, as Tract 71 published the year before; on the\ncontrary, it is very fierce; and this I attribute to the circumstance\nthat the volume is theological and didactic, whereas the Tract, being\ncontroversial, assumes as little and grants as much as possible on\nthe points in dispute, and insists on points of agreement as well as\nof difference. A further and more direct reason is, that in my volume\nI deal with \"Romanism\" (as I call it), not so much in its formal\ndecrees and in the substance of its creed, as in its traditional\naction and its authorised teaching as represented by its prominent\nwriters;--whereas the Tract is written as if discussing the\ndifferences of the Churches with a view to a reconciliation between\nthem. There is a further reason too, which I will state presently.\n\nBut this volume had a larger scope than that of opposing the Roman\nsystem. It was an attempt at commencing a system of theology on the\nAnglican idea, and based upon Anglican authorities. Mr. Palmer, about\nthe same time, was projecting a work of a similar nature in his own\nway. It was published, I think, under the title, \"A Treatise on the\nChristian Church.\" As was to be expected from the author, it was a\nmost learned, most careful composition; and in its form, I should\nsay, polemical. So happily at least did he follow the logical method\nof the Roman Schools, that Father Perrone in his treatise on dogmatic\ntheology, recognised in him a combatant of the true cast, and saluted\nhim as a foe worthy of being vanquished. Other soldiers in that field\nhe seems to have thought little better than the _lanzknechts_ of the\nmiddle ages, and, I dare say, with very good reason. When I knew that\nexcellent and kind-hearted man at Rome at a later time, he allowed me\nto put him to ample penance for those light thoughts of me, which he\nhad once had, by encroaching on his valuable time with my theological\nquestions. As to Mr. Palmer's book, it was one which no Anglican\ncould write but himself,--in no sense, if I recollect aright, a\ntentative work. The ground of controversy was cut into squares, and\nthen every objection had its answer. This is the proper method to\nadopt in teaching authoritatively young men; and the work in fact was\nintended for students in theology. My own book, on the other hand,\nwas of a directly tentative and empirical character. I wished to\nbuild up an Anglican theology out of the stores which already lay cut\nand hewn upon the ground, the past toil of great divines. To do this\ncould not be the work of one man; much less, could it be at once\nreceived into Anglican theology, however well it was done. I fully\ntrusted that my statements of doctrine would turn out true and\nimportant; yet I wrote, to use the common phrase, \"under correction.\"\n\nThere was another motive for my publishing, of a personal nature,\nwhich I think I should mention. I felt then, and all along felt, that\nthere was an intellectual cowardice in not having a basis in reason\nfor my belief, and a moral cowardice in not avowing that basis. I\nshould have felt myself less than a man, if I did not bring it out,\nwhatever it was. This is one principal reason why I wrote and\npublished the \"Prophetical Office.\" It was on the same feeling, that\nin the spring of 1836, at a meeting of residents on the subject of\nthe struggle then proceeding some one wanted us all merely to act on\ncollege and conservative grounds (as I understood him), with as few\npublished statements as possible: I answered, that the person whom we\nwere resisting had committed himself in writing, and that we ought\nto commit ourselves too. This again was a main reason for the\npublication of Tract 90. Alas! it was my portion for whole years to\nremain without any satisfactory basis for my religious profession, in\na state of moral sickness, neither able to acquiesce in Anglicanism,\nnor able to go to Rome. But I bore it, till in course of time my way\nwas made clear to me. If here it be objected to me, that as time went\non, I often in my writings hinted at things which I did not fully\nbring out, I submit for consideration whether this occurred except\nwhen I was in great difficulties, how to speak, or how to be silent,\nwith due regard for the position of mind or the feelings of others.\nHowever, I may have an opportunity to say more on this subject. But\nto return to the \"Prophetical Office.\"\n\nI thus speak in the Introduction to my volume:--\n\n\"It is proposed,\" I say, \"to offer helps towards the formation of a\nrecognised Anglican theology in one of its departments. The present\nstate of our divinity is as follows: the most vigorous, the clearest,\nthe most fertile minds, have through God's mercy been employed in the\nservice of our Church: minds too as reverential and holy, and as\nfully imbued with Ancient Truth, and as well versed in the writings\nof the Fathers, as they were intellectually gifted. This is God's\ngreat mercy indeed, for which we must ever be thankful. Primitive\ndoctrine has been explored for us in every direction, and the\noriginal principles of the Gospel and the Church patiently brought to\nlight. But one thing is still wanting: our champions and teachers\nhave lived in stormy times: political and other influences have acted\nupon them variously in their day, and have since obstructed a careful\nconsolidation of their judgments. We have a vast inheritance, but no\ninventory of our treasures. All is given us in profusion; it remains\nfor us to catalogue, sort, distribute, select, harmonise, and\ncomplete. We have more than we know how to use; stores of learning,\nbut little that is precise and serviceable; Catholic truth and\nindividual opinion, first principles and the guesses of genius, all\nmingled in the same works, and requiring to be discriminated. We meet\nwith truths overstated or misdirected, matters of detail variously\ntaken, facts incompletely proved or applied, and rules inconsistently\nurged or discordantly interpreted. Such indeed is the state of every\ndeep philosophy in its first stages, and therefore of theological\nknowledge. What we need at present for our Church's well-being, is\nnot invention, nor originality, nor sagacity, nor even learning in\nour divines, at least in the first place, though all gifts of God are\nin a measure needed, and never can be unseasonable when used\nreligiously, but we need peculiarly a sound judgment, patient\nthought, discrimination, a comprehensive mind, an abstinence from all\nprivate fancies and caprices and personal tastes,--in a word, Divine\nWisdom.\"\n\nThe subject of the volume is the doctrine of the _Via Media_, a name\nwhich had already been applied to the Anglican system by writers of\nname. It is an expressive title, but not altogether satisfactory,\nbecause it is at first sight negative. This had been the reason of my\ndislike to the word \"Protestant;\" in the idea which it conveyed, it\nwas not the profession of any religion at all, and was compatible\nwith infidelity. A _Via Media_ was but a receding from extremes,\ntherefore I had to draw it out into a shape, and a character; before\nit had claims on our respect, it must first be shown to be one,\nintelligible, and consistent. This was the first condition of any\nreasonable treatise on the _Via Media_. The second condition, and\nnecessary too, was not in my power. I could only hope that it would\none day be fulfilled. Even if the _Via Media_ were ever so positive a\nreligious system, it was not as yet objective and real; it had no\noriginal anywhere of which it was the representative. It was at\npresent a paper religion. This I confess in my Introduction; I say,\n\"Protestantism and Popery are real religions ... but the _Via Media_,\nviewed as an integral system, has scarcely had existence except on\npaper.\" I grant the objection and proceed to lessen it. There I\nsay, \"It still remains to be tried, whether what is called\nAnglo-Catholicism, the religion of Andrewes, Laud, Hammond, Butler,\nand Wilson, is capable of being professed, acted on, and maintained\non a large sphere of action, or whether it be a mere modification or\ntransition-state of either Romanism or popular Protestantism.\" I\ntrusted that some day it would prove to be a substantive religion.\n\nLest I should be misunderstood, let me observe that this hesitation\nabout the validity of the theory of the _Via Media_ implied no doubt\nof the three fundamental points on which it was based, as I have\ndescribed above, dogma, the sacramental system, and opposition to the\nChurch of Rome.\n\nOther investigations which followed gave a still more tentative\ncharacter to what I wrote or got written. The basis of the _Via\nMedia_, consisting of the three elementary points, which I have just\nmentioned, was clear enough; but, not only had the house to be built\nupon them, but it had also to be furnished, and it is not wonderful\nif both I and others erred in detail in determining what that\nfurniture should be, what was consistent with the style of building,\nand what was in itself desirable. I will explain what I mean.\n\nI had brought out in the \"Prophetical Office\" in what the Roman and\nthe Anglican systems differed from each other, but less distinctly in\nwhat they agreed. I had indeed enumerated the Fundamentals, common to\nboth, in the following passage:--\"In both systems the same Creeds are\nacknowledged. Besides other points in common we both hold, that\ncertain doctrines are necessary to be believed for salvation; we both\nbelieve in the doctrines of the Trinity, Incarnation, and Atonement;\nin original sin; in the necessity of regeneration; in the\nsupernatural grace of the Sacraments; in the apostolical succession;\nin the obligation of faith and obedience, and in the eternity of\nfuture punishment\" (Pp. 55, 56). So much I had said, but I had not\nsaid enough. This enumeration implied a great many more points of\nagreement than were found in those very Articles which were\nfundamental. If the two Churches were thus the same in fundamentals,\nthey were also one and the same in such plain consequences as are\ncontained in those fundamentals or as outwardly represented them.\nIt was an Anglican principle that \"the abuse of a thing doth not\ntake away the lawful use of it;\" and an Anglican Canon in 1603 had\ndeclared that the English Church had no purpose to forsake all that\nwas held in the Churches of Italy, France, and Spain, and reverenced\nthose ceremonies and particular points which were apostolic.\nExcepting then such exceptional matters, as are implied in this\navowal, whether they were many or few, all these Churches were\nevidently to be considered as one with the Anglican. The Catholic\nChurch in all lands had been one from the first for many centuries;\nthen, various portions had followed their own way to the injury, but\nnot to the destruction, whether of truth or of charity. These\nportions or branches were mainly three:--the Greek, Latin, and\nAnglican. Each of these inherited the early undivided Church _in\nsolido_ as its own possession. Each branch was identical with that\nearly undivided Church, and in the unity of that Church it had unity\nwith the other branches. The three branches agreed together in _all\nbut_ their later accidental errors. Some branches had retained in\ndetail portions of apostolical truth and usage, which the others had\nnot; and these portions might be and should be appropriated again by\nthe others which had let them slip. Thus, the middle age belonged to\nthe Anglican Church, and much more did the middle age of England.\nThe Church of the twelfth century was the Church of the nineteenth.\nDr. Howley sat in the seat of St. Thomas the Martyr; Oxford was\na medieval University. Saving our engagements to Prayer Book and\nArticles, we might breathe and live and act and speak, in the\natmosphere and climate of Henry III.'s day, or the Confessor's, or of\nAlfred's. And we ought to be indulgent of all that Rome taught now,\nas of what Rome taught then, saving our protest. We might boldly\nwelcome, even what we did not ourselves think right to adopt. And,\nwhen we were obliged on the contrary boldly to denounce, we should do\nso with pain, not with exultation. By very reason of our protest,\nwhich we had made, and made _ex animo_, we could agree to differ.\nWhat the members of the Bible Society did on the basis of Scripture,\nwe could do on the basis of the Church; Trinitarian and Unitarian\nwere further apart than Roman and Anglican. Thus we had a real wish\nto co-operate with Rome in all lawful things, if she would let us,\nand the rules of our own Church let us; and we thought there was no\nbetter way towards the restoration of doctrinal purity and unity. And\nwe thought that Rome was not committed by her formal decrees to all\nthat she actually taught; and again, if her disputants had been\nunfair to us, or her rulers tyrannical, that on our side too there\nhad been rancour and slander in our controversy with her, and\nviolence in our political measures. As to ourselves being instruments\nin improving the belief or practice of Rome directly, I used to say,\n\"Look at home; let us first, or at least let us the while, supply our\nown short-comings, before we attempt to be physicians to any one\nelse.\" This is very much the spirit of Tract 71, to which I referred\njust now. I am well aware that there is a paragraph contrary to it in\nthe prospectus to the Library of the Fathers; but I never concurred\nin it. Indeed, I have no intention whatever of implying that Dr.\nPusey concurred in the ecclesiastical theory, which I have been\ndrawing out; nor that I took it up myself except by degrees in the\ncourse of ten years. It was necessarily the growth of time. In fact,\nhardly any two persons, who took part in the Movement, agreed in\ntheir view of the limit to which our general principles might\nreligiously be carried.\n\nAnd now I have said enough on what I consider to have been the\ngeneral objects of the various works which I wrote, edited, or\nprompted in the years which I am reviewing; I wanted to bring out in\na substantive form, a living Church of England in a position proper\nto herself, and founded on distinct principles; as far as paper could\ndo it, and as earnestly preaching it and influencing others towards\nit, could tend to make it a fact;--a living Church, made of flesh and\nblood, with voice, complexion, and motion and action, and a will of\nits own. I believe I had no private motive, and no personal aim. Nor\ndid I ask for more than \"a fair stage and no favour,\" nor expect the\nwork would be done in my days; but I thought that enough would be\nsecured to continue it in the future under, perhaps, more hopeful\ncircumstances and prospects than the present.\n\nI will mention in illustration some of the principal works, doctrinal\nand historical, which originated in the object which I have stated.\n\nI wrote my essay on Justification in 1837; it was aimed at the\nLutheran dictum that justification by faith only was the cardinal\ndoctrine of Christianity. I considered that this doctrine was either\na paradox or a truism--a paradox in Luther's mouth, a truism in\nMelanchthon. I thought that the Anglican Church followed Melanchthon,\nand that in consequence between Rome and Anglicanism, between high\nChurch and low Church, there was no real intellectual difference on\nthe point. I wished to fill up a ditch, the work of man. In this\nvolume again, I express my desire to build up a system of theology\nout of the Anglican divines, and imply that my dissertation was a\ntentative inquiry. I speak in the Preface of \"offering suggestions\ntowards a work, which must be uppermost in the mind of every true son\nof the English Church at this day,--the consolidation of a\ntheological system, which, built upon those formularies, to which all\nclergymen are bound, may tend to inform, persuade, and absorb into\nitself religious minds, which hitherto have fancied, that, on the\npeculiar Protestant questions, they were seriously opposed to each\nother.\"--P. vii.\n\nIn my University Sermons there is a series of discussions upon the\nsubject of Faith and Reason; these again were the tentative\ncommencement of a grave and necessary work; it was an inquiry into\nthe ultimate basis of religious faith, prior to the distinction into\ncreeds.\n\nIn like manner in a pamphlet which I published in the summer of 1838\nis an attempt at placing the doctrine of the Real Presence on an\nintellectual basis. The fundamental idea is consonant to that to\nwhich I had been so long attached; it is the denial of the existence\nof space except as a subjective idea of our minds.\n\nThe Church of the Fathers is one of the earliest productions of the\nMovement, and appeared in numbers in the _British Magazine_, and was\nwritten with the aim of introducing the religious sentiments, views,\nand customs of the first ages into the modern Church of England.\n\nThe translation of Fleury's Church History was commenced under these\ncircumstances:--I was fond of Fleury for a reason which I express in\nthe advertisement; because it presented a sort of photograph of\necclesiastical history without any comment upon it. In the event,\nthat simple representation of the early centuries had a good deal to\ndo with unsettling me; but how little I could anticipate this, will\nbe seen in the fact that the publication was a favourite scheme of\nMr. Rose's. He proposed it to me twice, between the years 1834 and\n1837; and I mention it as one out of many particulars curiously\nillustrating how truly my change of opinion arose, not from foreign\ninfluences, but from the working of my own mind, and the accidents\naround me. The date at which the portion actually translated began\nwas determined by the publisher on reasons with which we were not\nconcerned.\n\nAnother historical work, but drawn from original sources, was given\nto the world by my old friend Mr. Bowden, being a Life of Pope\nGregory VII. I need scarcely recall to those who have read it, the\npower and the liveliness of the narrative. This composition was the\nauthor's relaxation on evenings and in his summer vacations, from his\nordinary engagements in London. It had been suggested to him\noriginally by me, at the instance of Hurrell Froude.\n\nThe series of the Lives of the English Saints was projected at a\nlater period, under circumstances which I shall have in the sequel to\ndescribe. Those beautiful compositions have nothing in them, as far\nas I recollect, simply inconsistent with the general objects which I\nhave been assigning to my labours in these years, though the\nimmediate occasion of them and their tone could not in the exercise\nof the largest indulgence be said to have an Anglican direction.\n\nAt a comparatively early date I drew up the Tract on the Roman\nBreviary. It frightened my own friends on its first appearance, and,\nseveral years afterwards, when younger men began to translate for\npublication the four volumes _in extenso_, they were dissuaded from\ndoing so by advice to which from a sense of duty they listened. It\nwas an apparent accident which introduced me to the knowledge of that\nmost wonderful and most attractive monument of the devotion of\nsaints. On Hurrell Froude's death, in 1836, I was asked to select one\nof his books as a keepsake. I selected Butler's Analogy; finding that\nit had been already chosen, I looked with some perplexity along the\nshelves as they stood before me, when an intimate friend at my elbow\nsaid, \"Take that.\" It was the Breviary which Hurrell had had with him\nat Barbados. Accordingly I took it, studied it, wrote my Tract from\nit, and have it on my table in constant use till this day.\n\nThat dear and familiar companion, who thus put the Breviary into my\nhands, is still in the Anglican Church. So too is that early\nvenerated long-loved friend, together with whom I edited a work\nwhich, more perhaps than any other, caused disturbance and annoyance\nin the Anglican world, Froude's Remains; yet, however judgment might\nrun as to the prudence of publishing it, I never heard any one impute\nto Mr. Keble the very shadow of dishonesty or treachery towards his\nChurch in so acting.\n\nThe annotated translation of the treatise of St. Athanasius was of\ncourse in no sense a tentative work; it belongs to another order of\nthought. This historico-dogmatic work employed me for years. I had\nmade preparations for following it up with a doctrinal history of the\nheresies which succeeded to the Arian.\n\nI should make mention also of the _British Critic_. I was editor of\nit for three years, from July 1838 to July 1841. My writers belonged\nto various schools, some to none at all. The subjects are\nvarious,--classical, academical, political, critical, and artistic,\nas well as theological, and upon the Movement none are to be found\nwhich do not keep quite clear of advocating the cause of Rome.\n\n\nSo I went on for years, up to 1841. It was, in a human point of view,\nthe happiest time of my life. I was truly at home. I had in one of my\nvolumes appropriated to myself the words of Bramhall, \"Bees, by the\ninstinct of nature, do love their hives, and birds their nests.\" I\ndid not suppose that such sunshine would last, though I knew not what\nwould be its termination. It was the time of plenty, and, during its\nseven years, I tried to lay up as much as I could for the dearth\nwhich was to follow it. We prospered and spread. I have spoken of the\ndoings of these years, since I was a Catholic, in a passage, part of\nwhich I will quote, though there is a sentence in it that requires\nsome limitation:\n\n\"From beginnings so small,\" I said, \"from elements of thought so\nfortuitous, with prospects so unpromising, the Anglo-Catholic party\nsuddenly became a power in the National Church, and an object of\nalarm to her rulers and friends. Its originators would have found it\ndifficult to say what they aimed at of a practical kind: rather, they\nput forth views and principles, for their own sake, because they were\ntrue, as if they were obliged to say them; and, as they might be\nthemselves surprised at their earnestness in uttering them, they had\nas great cause to be surprised at the success which attended their\npropagation. And, in fact, they could only say that those doctrines\nwere in the air; that to assert was to prove, and that to explain was\nto persuade; and that the Movement in which they were taking part was\nthe birth of a crisis rather than of a place. In a very few years a\nschool of opinion was formed, fixed in its principles, indefinite and\nprogressive in their range; and it extended itself into every part of\nthe country. If we inquire what the world thought of it, we have\nstill more to raise our wonder; for, not to mention the excitement it\ncaused in England, the Movement and its party-names were known to the\npolice of Italy and to the back-woodmen of America. And so it\nproceeded, getting stronger and stronger every year, till it came\ninto collision with the Nation, and that Church of the Nation, which\nit began by professing especially to serve.\"\n\nThe greater its success, the nearer was that collision at hand. The\nfirst threatenings of the crisis were heard in 1838. At that time, my\nbishop in a charge made some light animadversions, but they _were_\nanimadversions, on the Tracts for the Times. At once I offered to\nstop them. What took place on the occasion I prefer to state in the\nwords, in which I related it in a pamphlet addressed to him in a\nlater year, when the blow actually came down upon me.\n\n\"In your Lordship's Charge for 1838,\" I said, \"an allusion was made\nto the Tracts for the Times. Some opponents of the Tracts said that\nyou treated them with undue indulgence ... I wrote to the Archdeacon\non the subject, submitting the Tracts entirely to your Lordship's\ndisposal. What I thought about your Charge will appear from the words\nI then used to him. I said, 'A Bishop's lightest word _ex cathedra_\nis heavy. His judgment on a book cannot be light. It is a rare\noccurrence.' And I offered to withdraw any of the Tracts over which I\nhad control, if I were informed which were those to which your\nLordship had objections. I afterwards wrote to your Lordship to this\neffect, that 'I trusted I might say sincerely, that I should feel a\nmore lively pleasure in knowing that I was submitting myself to your\nLordship's expressed judgment in a matter of that kind, than I could\nhave even in the widest circulation of the volumes in question.' Your\nLordship did not think it necessary to proceed to such a measure, but\nI felt, and always have felt, that, if ever you determined on it, I\nwas bound to obey.\"\n\nThat day at length came, and I conclude this portion of my narrative,\nwith relating the circumstances of it.\n\n\nFrom the time that I had entered upon the duties of public tutor at\nmy College, when my doctrinal views were very different from what\nthey were in 1841, I had meditated a comment upon the Articles. Then,\nwhen the Movement was in its swing, friends had said to me, \"What\nwill you make of the Articles?\" but I did not share the apprehension\nwhich their question implied. Whether, as time went on, I should have\nbeen forced, by the necessities of the original theory of the\nMovement, to put on paper the speculations which I had about them, I\nam not able to conjecture. The actual cause of my doing so, in the\nbeginning of 1841, was the restlessness, actual and prospective, of\nthose who neither liked the _Via Media_, nor my strong judgment\nagainst Rome. I had been enjoined, I think by my Bishop, to keep\nthese men straight, and wished so to do: but their tangible\ndifficulty was subscription to the Articles; and thus the question of\nthe articles came before me. It was thrown in our teeth; \"How can you\nmanage to sign the Articles? they are directly against Rome.\"\n\"Against Rome?\" I made answer, \"What do you mean by 'Rome'?\" and then\nproceeded to make distinctions, of which I shall now give an account.\n\nBy \"Roman doctrine\" might be meant one of three things: 1, the\n_Catholic teaching_ of the early centuries; or 2, the _formal dogmas\nof Rome_ as contained in the later Councils, especially the Council\nof Trent, and as condensed in the Creed of Pope Pius IV.; 3, the\n_actual popular beliefs and usages_ sanctioned by Rome in the\ncountries in communion with it, over and above the dogmas; and these\nI called \"dominant errors.\" Now Protestants commonly thought that in\nall three senses, \"Roman doctrine\" was condemned in the Articles: I\nthought that the _Catholic teaching_ was not condemned; that the\n_dominant errors_ were; and as to the _formal dogmas_, that some\nwere, some were not, and that the line had to be drawn between them.\nThus, 1, the use of prayers for the dead was a Catholic doctrine--not\ncondemned; 2, the prison of purgatory was a Roman dogma--which was\ncondemned; but the infallibility of ecumenical councils was a Roman\ndogma--not condemned; and 3, the fire of Purgatory was an authorised\nand popular error, not a dogma--which was condemned.\n\nFurther, I considered that the difficulties, felt by the persons whom\nI have mentioned, mainly lay in their mistaking, 1, Catholic\nteaching, which was not condemned in the Articles, for Roman dogma\nwhich was condemned; and 2, Roman dogma, which was not condemned in\nthe Articles, for dominant error which was. If they went further than\nthis, I had nothing more to say to them.\n\nA further motive which I had for my attempt, was the desire to\nascertain the ultimate points of contrariety between the Roman and\nAnglican creeds, and to make them as few as possible. I thought that\neach creed was obscured and misrepresented by a dominant\ncircumambient \"Popery\" and \"Protestantism.\"\n\nThe main thesis then of my essay was this:--the Articles do not\noppose Catholic teaching; they but partially oppose Roman dogma; they\nfor the most part oppose the dominant errors of Rome. And the problem\nwas to draw the line as to what they allowed and what they condemned.\n\nSuch being the object which I had in view, what were my prospects of\nwidening and defining their meaning? The prospect was encouraging;\nthere was no doubt at all of the elasticity of the Articles: to take\na palmary instance, the seventeenth was assumed by one party to be\nLutheran, by another Calvinistic, though the two interpretations were\ncontradictory to each other; why then should not other Articles be\ndrawn up with a vagueness of an equally intense character? I wanted\nto ascertain what was the limit of that elasticity in the direction\nof Roman dogma. But next, I had a way of inquiry of my own, which I\nstate without defending. I instanced it afterwards in my Essay on\nDoctrinal Development. That work, I believe, I have not read since I\npublished it, and I doubt not at all that I have made many mistakes\nin it;--partly, from my ignorance of the details of doctrine, as the\nChurch of Rome holds them, but partly from my impatience to clear as\nlarge a range for the _principle_ of doctrinal development (waiving\nthe question of historical _fact_) as was consistent with the strict\napostolicity and identity of the Catholic Creed. In like manner, as\nregards the 39 Articles, my method of inquiry was to leap _in medias\nres_. I wished to institute an inquiry how far, in critical fairness,\nthe text _could_ be opened; I was aiming far more at ascertaining\nwhat a man who subscribed it might hold than what he must, so that my\nconclusions were negative rather than positive. It was but a first\nessay. And I made it with the full recognition and consciousness,\nwhich I had already expressed in my Prophetical Office, as regards\nthe _Via Media_, that I was making only \"a first approximation to a\nrequired solution;\"--\"a series of illustrations supplying hints in\nthe removal\" of a difficulty, and with full acknowledgment \"that in\nminor points, whether in question of fact or of judgment, there was\nroom for difference or error of opinion,\" and that I \"should not be\nashamed to own a mistake, if it were proved against me, nor reluctant\nto bear the just blame of it.\"--P. 31.\n\nIn addition, I was embarrassed in consequence of my wish to go as far\nas was possible, in interpreting the Articles in the direction of\nRoman dogma, without disclosing what I was doing to the parties whose\ndoubts I was meeting, who might be thereby encouraged to go still\nfurther than at present they found in themselves any call to do.\n\n1. But in the way of such an attempt comes the prompt objection that\nthe Articles were actually drawn up against \"Popery,\" and therefore\nit was transcendently absurd and dishonest to suppose that Popery, in\nany shape--patristic belief, Tridentine dogma, or popular corruption\nauthoritatively sanctioned--would be able to take refuge under their\ntext. This premiss I denied. Not any religious doctrine at all, but a\npolitical principle, was the primary English idea at that time of\n\"Popery.\" And what was that political principle, and how could it\nbest be kept out of England? What was the great question in the days\nof Henry and Elizabeth? The _Supremacy_;--now, was I saying one\nsingle word in favour of the supremacy of the holy see, of the\nforeign jurisdiction? No; I did not believe in it myself. Did Henry\nVIII. religiously hold justification by faith only? did he disbelieve\nPurgatory? Was Elizabeth zealous for the marriage of the Clergy? or\nhad she a conscience against the Mass? The supremacy of the Pope was\nthe essence of the \"Popery\" to which, at the time of the Articles,\nthe supreme head or governor of the English Church was so violently\nhostile.\n\n2. But again I said this;--let \"Popery\" mean what it would in the\nmouths of the compilers of the Articles, let it even, for argument's\nsake, include the doctrines of that Tridentine Council, which was not\nyet over when the Articles were drawn up, and against which they\ncould not be simply directed, yet, consider, what was the religious\nobject of the Government in their imposition? merely to disown\n\"Popery\"? No; it had the further object of gaining the \"Papists.\"\nWhat then was the best way to induce reluctant or wavering minds, and\nthese, I supposed, were the majority, to give in their adhesion to\nthe new symbol? how had the Arians drawn up their creeds? Was it not\non the principle of using vague ambiguous language, which to the\nsubscribers would seem to bear a Catholic sense, but which, when\nworked out in the long run, would prove to be heterodox? Accordingly,\nthere was great antecedent probability, that, fierce as the Articles\nmight look at first sight, their bark would prove worse than their\nbite. I say antecedent probability, for to what extent that surmise\nmight be true, could only be ascertained by investigation.\n\n3. But a consideration came up at once, which threw light on this\nsurmise:--what if it should turn out that the very men who drew up\nthe Articles, in the very act of doing so, had avowed, or rather in\none of those very Articles themselves had imposed on subscribers,\na number of those very \"Papistical\" doctrines, which they were now\nthought to deny, as part and parcel of that very Protestantism, which\nthey were now thought to consider divine? and this was the fact, and\nI showed it in my Essay.\n\nLet the reader observe:--the 35th Article says: \"The second Book of\nHomilies doth contain _a godly and wholesome doctrine, and necessary\nfor_ these times, as doth the former Book of Homilies.\" Here the\n_doctrine_ of the Homilies is recognised as godly and wholesome, and\nsubscription to that proposition is imposed on all subscribers of the\nArticles. Let us then turn to the Homilies, and see what this godly\ndoctrine is: I quoted from them to the following effect:\n\n1. They declare that the so-called \"apocryphal\" book of Tobit is the\nteaching of the Holy Ghost, and is Scripture.\n\n2. That the so-called \"apocryphal\" book of Wisdom is Scripture, and\nthe infallible and undeceivable word of God.\n\n3. That the Primitive Church, next to the apostles' time, and, as\nthey imply, for almost 700 years, is no doubt most pure.\n\n4. That the Primitive Church is specially to be followed.\n\n5. That the four first general councils belong to the Primitive\nChurch.\n\n6. That there are six councils which are allowed and received by all\nmen.\n\n7. Again, they speak of a certain truth which they are enforcing, as\ndeclared by God's word, the sentences of the ancient doctors, and\njudgment of the Primitive Church.\n\n8. Of the learned and holy Bishops and doctors of the first eight\ncenturies being of good authority and credit with the people.\n\n9. Of the declaration of Christ and His apostles and all the rest of\nthe Holy Fathers.\n\n10. Of the authority of both Scripture and also of Augustine.\n\n11. Of Augustine, Chrysostom, Ambrose, Jerome, and about thirty other\nFathers, to some of whom they give the title of \"Saint,\" to others of\nancient Catholic Fathers and doctors.\n\n12. They declare that, not only the holy apostles and disciples of\nChrist, but the godly Fathers also before and since Christ were\nendued without doubt with the Holy Ghost.\n\n13. That the ancient Catholic Fathers say that the \"Lord's Supper\" is\nthe salve of immortality, the sovereign preservative against death,\nthe food of immortality, the healthful grace.\n\n14. That the Lord's Blessed Body and Blood are received under the\nform of bread and wine.\n\n15. That the meat in the Sacrament is an invisible meat and a ghostly\nsubstance.\n\n16. That the holy Body and Blood ought to be touched with the mind.\n\n17. That Ordination is a Sacrament.\n\n18. That Matrimony is a Sacrament.\n\n19. That there are other Sacraments besides \"Baptism and the Lord's\nSupper.\"\n\n20. That the souls of the Saints are reigning in joy and in heaven\nwith God.\n\n21. That alms-deeds purge the soul from the infection and filthy\nspots of sin, and are a precious medicine, an inestimable jewel.\n\n22. That mercifulness wipes out and washes away infirmity and\nweakness as salves and remedies to heal sores and grievous diseases.\n\n23. That the duty of fasting is a truth more manifest than it should\nneed to be proved.\n\n24. That fasting, used with prayer, is of great efficacy and weigheth\nmuch with God; so the angel Raphael told Tobias.\n\n25. That the puissant and mighty Emperor Theodosius was, in the\nPrimitive Church which was most holy and godly, excommunicated by St.\nAmbrose.\n\n26. That Constantine, Bishop of Rome, did condemn Philippicus, the\nEmperor, not without a cause indeed, but most justly.\n\nPutting altogether aside the question how far these separate theses\ncame under the matter to which subscription was to be made, it was\nquite plain, that the men who wrote the Homilies, and who thus\nincorporated them into the Anglican system of doctrine, could not\nhave possessed that exact discrimination between the Catholic and\nProtestant faith, or have made that clear recognition of formal\nProtestant principles and tenets, or have accepted that definition of\n\"Roman doctrine,\" which is received at this day:--hence great\nprobability accrued to my presentiment, that the Articles were\ntolerant, not only of what I called \"Catholic teaching,\" but of much\nthat was \"Roman.\"\n\n4. And here was another reason against the notion that the Articles\ndirectly attacked the Roman dogmas as declared at Trent and as\npromulgated by Pius the Fourth:--the Council of Trent was not over,\nnor its decrees promulgated at the date when the Articles were drawn\nup, so that those Articles must be aiming at something else. What was\nthat something else? The Homilies tell us: the Homilies are the best\ncomment upon the Articles. Let us turn to the Homilies, and we shall\nfind from first to last that, not only is not the Catholic teaching\nof the first centuries, but neither again are the dogmas of Rome, the\nobjects of the protest of the compilers of the Articles, but the\ndominant errors, the popular corruptions, authorised or suffered by\nthe high name of Rome. As to Catholic teaching, nay as to Roman\ndogma, those Homilies, as I have shown, contained no small portion of\nit themselves.\n\n5. So much for the writers of the Articles and Homilies;--they were\nwitnesses, not authorities, and I used them as such; but in the next\nplace, who were the actual authorities imposing them? I considered\nthe _imponens_ to be the Convocation of 1571; but here again, it\nwould be found that the very Convocation, which received and\nconfirmed the 39 Articles, also enjoined by Canon that \"preachers\nshould be _careful_, that they should _never_ teach aught in a\nsermon, to be religiously held and believed by the people, except\nthat which is agreeable to the doctrine of the Old and New Testament,\nand _which the Catholic Fathers and ancient Bishops have collected_\nfrom that very doctrine.\" Here, let it be observed, an appeal is made\nby the Convocation _imponens_ to the very same ancient authorities,\nas had been mentioned with such profound veneration by the writers of\nthe Homilies and of the Articles, and thus, if the Homilies contained\nviews of doctrine which now would be called Roman, there seemed to me\nto be an extreme probability that the Convocation of 1571 also\ncountenanced and received, or at least did not reject, those\ndoctrines.\n\n6. And further, when at length I came actually to look into the text\nof the Articles, I saw in many cases a patent fulfilment of all that\nI had surmised as to their vagueness and indecisiveness, and that,\nnot only on questions which lay between Lutherans, Calvinists, and\nZuinglians, but on Catholic questions also; and I have noticed them\nin my Tract. In the conclusion of my Tract I observe: They are\n\"evidently framed on the principle of leaving open large questions on\nwhich the controversy hinges. They state broadly extreme truths, and\nare silent about their adjustment. For instance, they say that all\nnecessary faith must be proved from Scripture; but do not say _who_\nis to prove it. They say, that the Church has authority in\ncontroversies; they do not say _what_ authority. They say that it may\nenforce nothing beyond Scripture, but do not say _where_ the remedy\nlies when it does. They say that works _before_ grace _and_\njustification are worthless and worse, and that works _after_ grace\n_and_ justification are acceptable, but they do not speak at all of\nworks _with_ God's aid _before_ justification. They say that men are\nlawfully called and sent to minister and preach, who are chosen and\ncalled by men who have public authority _given_ them in the\nCongregation; but they do not add _by whom_ the authority is to be\ngiven. They say that Councils called by _princes_ may err; they do\nnot determine whether Councils called in the name of Christ may err.\"\n\nSuch were the considerations which weighed with me in my inquiry how\nfar the Articles were tolerant of a Catholic, or even a Roman\ninterpretation; and such was the defence which I made in my Tract for\nhaving attempted it. From what I have already said, it will appear\nthat I have no need or intention at this day to maintain every\nparticular interpretation which I suggested in the course of my\nTract, nor indeed had I then. Whether it was prudent or not, whether\nit was sensible or not, anyhow I attempted only a first essay of a\nnecessary work, an essay which, as I was quite prepared to find,\nwould require revision and modification by means of the lights which\nI should gain from the criticism of others. I should have gladly\nwithdrawn any statement, which could be proved to me to be erroneous;\nI considered my work to be faulty and objectionable in the same sense\nin which I now consider my Anglican interpretations of Scripture to\nbe erroneous, but in no other sense. I am surprised that men do not\napply to the interpreters of Scripture generally the hard names\nwhich they apply to the author of Tract 90. He held a large system\nof theology, and applied it to the Articles: Episcopalians, or\nLutherans, or Presbyterians, or Unitarians, hold a large system\nof theology and apply it to Scripture. Every theology has its\ndifficulties; Protestants hold justification by faith only, though\nthere is no text in St. Paul which enunciates it, and though\nSt. James expressly denies it; do we therefore call Protestants\ndishonest? they deny that the Church has a divine mission, though St.\nPaul says that it is \"the Pillar and ground of Truth;\" they keep the\nSabbath, though St. Paul says, \"Let no man judge you in meat or drink\nor in respect of ... the sabbath days.\" Every creed has texts in its\nfavour, and again texts which run counter to it: and this is\ngenerally confessed. And this is what I felt keenly:--how had I done\nworse in Tract 90 than Anglicans, Wesleyans, and Calvinists did daily\nin their Sermons and their publications? How had I done worse, than\nthe Evangelical party in their _ex animo_ reception of the Services\nfor Baptism and Visitation of the Sick?[2] Why was I to be dishonest\nand they immaculate? There was an occasion on which our Lord gave an\nanswer, which seemed to be appropriate to my own case, when the\ntumult broke out against my Tract:--\"He that is without sin among\nyou, let him first cast a stone at him.\" I could have fancied that a\nsense of their own difficulties of interpretation would have\npersuaded the great party I have mentioned to some prudence, or at\nleast moderation, in opposing a teacher of an opposite school. But I\nsuppose their alarm and their anger overcame their sense of\njustice.\n\n\nIn the universal storm of indignation with which the Tract was\nreceived on its appearance, I recognise much of real religious\nfeeling, much of honest and true principle, much of straightforward\nignorant common sense. In Oxford there was genuine feeling too; but\nthere had been a smouldering stern energetic animosity, not at all\nunnatural, partly rational, against its author. A false step had been\nmade; now was the time for action. I am told that, even before the\npublication of the Tract, rumours of its contents had got into the\nhostile camp in an exaggerated form; and not a moment was lost in\nproceeding to action, when I was actually in the hands of the\nPhilistines. I was quite unprepared for the outbreak, and was\nstartled at its violence. I do not think I had any fear. Nay, I will\nadd I am not sure that it was not in one point of view a relief to\nme.\n\nI saw indeed clearly that my place in the Movement was lost; public\nconfidence was at an end; my occupation was gone. It was simply an\nimpossibility that I could say anything henceforth to good effect,\nwhen I had been posted up by the marshal on the buttery hatch of\nevery College of my University, after the manner of discommoned\npastry-cooks, and when in every part of the country and every\nclass of society, through every organ and occasion of opinion,\nin newspapers, in periodicals, at meetings, in pulpits, at\ndinner-tables, in coffee-rooms, in railway carriages, I was denounced\nas a traitor who had laid his train and was detected in the very act\nof firing it against the time-honoured Establishment. There were\nindeed men, besides my own friends, men of name and position, who\ngallantly took my part, as Dr. Hook, Mr. Palmer, and Mr. Perceval: it\nmust have been a grievous trial for themselves; yet what after all\ncould they do for me? Confidence in me was lost;--but I had already\nlost full confidence in myself. Thoughts had passed over me a year\nand a half before which for the time had profoundly troubled me. They\nhad gone: I had not less confidence in the power and the prospects of\nthe apostolical movement than before; not less confidence than before\nin the grievousness of what I called the \"dominant errors\" of Rome:\nbut how was I any more to have absolute confidence in myself? how was\nI to have confidence in my present confidence? how was I to be sure\nthat I should always think as I thought now? I felt that by this\nevent a kind Providence had saved me from an impossible position in\nthe future.\n\n\nFirst, if I remember right, they wished me to withdraw the Tract.\nThis I refused to do: I would not do so for the sake of those who\nwere unsettled or in danger of unsettlement. I would not do so\nfor my own sake; for how could I acquiesce in a mere Protestant\ninterpretation of the Articles? how could I range myself among the\nprofessors of a theology, of which it put my teeth on edge, even to\nhear the sound?\n\nNext they said, \"Keep silence; do not defend the Tract;\" I answered,\n\"Yes, if you will not condemn it--if you will allow it to continue on\nsale.\" They pressed on me whenever I gave way; they fell back when\nthey saw me obstinate. Their line of action was to get out of me as\nmuch as they could; but upon the point of their tolerating the Tract\nI _was_ obstinate. So they let me continue it on sale; and they said\nthey would not condemn it. But they said that this was on condition\nthat I did not defend it, that I stopped the series, and that I\nmyself published my own condemnation in a letter to the Bishop of\nOxford. I impute nothing whatever to him, he was ever most kind to\nme. Also, they said they could not answer for what individual Bishops\nmight perhaps say about the Tract in their own charges. I agreed to\ntheir conditions. My one point was to save the Tract.\n\nNot a scrap of writing was given me, as a pledge of the performance\non their side of the engagement. Parts of letters from them were read\nto me, without being put into my hands. It was an \"understanding.\" A\nclever man had warned me against \"understandings\" some six years\nbefore: I have hated them ever since.\n\nIn the last words of my letter to the Bishop of Oxford I thus\nresigned my place in the Movement:--\n\n\"I have nothing to be sorry for,\" I say to him, \"except having made\nyour Lordship anxious, and others whom I am bound to revere. I have\nnothing to be sorry for, but everything to rejoice in and be thankful\nfor. I have never taken pleasure in seeming to be able to move a\nparty, and whatever influence I have had, has been found, not sought\nafter. I have acted because others did not act, and have sacrificed a\nquiet which I prized. May God be with me in time to come, as He has\nbeen hitherto! and He will be, if I can but keep my hand clean and my\nheart pure. I think I can bear, or at least will try to bear, any\npersonal humiliation, so that I am preserved from betraying sacred\ninterests, which the Lord of grace and power has given into my\ncharge.\"\n\nFootnote\n\n[2] For instance, let candid men consider the form of Absolution\ncontained in that Prayer Book, of which all clergymen, Evangelical\nand Liberal as well as high Church, and (I think) all persons in\nUniversity office declare that \"it containeth _nothing contrary to\nthe Word of God_.\"\n\nI challenge, in the sight of all England, Evangelical clergymen\ngenerally, to put on paper an interpretation of this form of words,\nconsistent with their sentiments, which shall be less forced than the\nmost objectionable of the interpretations which Tract 90 puts upon\nany passage in the Articles.\n\n\"Our Lord Jesus Christ, who hath left _power_ to His Church to\nabsolve all sinners who truly repent and believe in Him, of His great\nmercy forgive thee thine offences; and by _His authority committed to\nme, I absolve thee from all thy sins_, in the Name of the Father, and\nof the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.\"\n\nI subjoin the Roman form, as used in England and elsewhere \"Dominus\nnoster Jesus Christus te absolvat; et ego auctoritate ipsius te\nabsolvo, ab omni vinculo excommunicationis et interdicti, in quantum\npossum et tu indiges. Deinde ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis, in\nnomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.\"\n\n\n\n\nPart V\n\nHistory of My Religious Opinions--1839-1841\n\n\nAnd now that I am about to trace, as far as I can, the course of that\ngreat revolution of mind, which led me to leave my own home, to which\nI was bound by so many strong and tender ties, I feel overcome with\nthe difficulty of satisfying myself in my account of it, and have\nrecoiled from doing so, till the near approach of the day, on which\nthese lines must be given to the world, forces me to set about\nthe task. For who can know himself, and the multitude of subtle\ninfluences which act upon him? and who can recollect, at the distance\nof twenty-five years, all that he once knew about his thoughts and\nhis deeds, and that, during a portion of his life, when even at the\ntime his observation, whether of himself or of the external world,\nwas less than before or after, by very reason of the perplexity and\ndismay which weighed upon him,--when, though it would be most\nunthankful to seem to imply that he had not all-sufficient light amid\nhis darkness, yet a darkness it emphatically was? And who can gird\nhimself suddenly to a new and anxious undertaking, which he might be\nable indeed to perform well, had he full and calm leisure to look\nthrough everything that he has written, whether in published works\nor private letters? but, on the other hand, as to that calm\ncontemplation of the past, in itself so desirable, who can afford to\nbe leisurely and deliberate, while he practises on himself a cruel\noperation, the ripping up of old griefs, and the venturing again upon\nthe \"infandum dolorem\" of years, in which the stars of this lower\nheaven were one by one going out? I could not in cool blood, nor\nexcept upon the imperious call of duty, attempt what I have set\nmyself to do. It is both to head and heart an extreme trial, thus to\nanalyse what has so long gone by, and to bring out the results of\nthat examination. I have done various bold things in my life: this is\nthe boldest: and, were I not sure I should after all succeed in my\nobject, it would be madness to set about it.\n\nIn the spring of 1839 my position in the Anglican Church was at its\nheight. I had supreme confidence in my controversial _status_, and I\nhad a great and still growing success, in recommending it to others.\nI had in the foregoing autumn been somewhat sore at the bishop's\ncharge, but I have a letter which shows that all annoyance had passed\nfrom my mind. In January, if I recollect aright, in order to meet the\npopular clamour against myself and others, and to satisfy the bishop,\nI had collected into one all the strong things which they, and\nespecially I, had said against the Church of Rome, in order to their\ninsertion among the advertisements appended to our publications.\nConscious as I was that my opinions in religion were not gained, as\nthe world said, from Roman sources, but were, on the contrary, the\nbirth of my own mind and of the circumstances in which I had been\nplaced, I had a scorn of the imputations which were heaped upon me.\nIt was true that I held a large bold system of religion, very unlike\nthe Protestantism of the day, but it was the concentration and\nadjustment of the statements of great Anglican authorities, and I had\nas much right to do so as the Evangelical party had, and more right\nthan the Liberal, to hold their own respective doctrines. As I spoke\non occasion of Tract 90, I claimed, in behalf of who would, that he\nmight hold in the Anglican Church a comprecation with the saints with\nBramhall, and the Mass all but transubstantiation with Andrewes,\nor with Hooker that transubstantiation itself is not a point for\nChurches to part communion upon, or with Hammond that a general\ncouncil, truly such, never did, never shall err in a matter of faith,\nor with Bull that man lost inward grace by the fall, or with\nThorndike that penance is a propitiation for post-baptismal sin, or\nwith Pearson that the all-powerful name of Jesus is no otherwise\ngiven than in the Catholic Church. \"Two can play at that,\" was often\nin my mouth, when men of Protestant sentiments appealed to the\nArticles, Homilies, or Reformers; in the sense that, if they had a\nright to speak loud, I had both the liberty and the means of giving\nthem tit for tat. I thought that the Anglican Church had been\ntyrannised over by a party, and I aimed at bringing into effect the\npromise contained in the motto to the Lyra, \"They shall know the\ndifference now.\" I only asked to be allowed to show them the\ndifference.\n\nWhat will best describe my state of mind at the early part of 1839,\nis an article in the _British Critic_ for that April. I have looked\nover it now, for the first time since it was published; and have been\nstruck by it for this reason:--it contains the last words which I\never spoke as an Anglican to Anglicans. It may now be read as my\nparting address and valediction, made to my friends. I little knew it\nat the time. It reviews the actual state of things, and it ends by\nlooking towards the future. It is not altogether mine; for my memory\ngoes to this,--that I had asked a friend to do the work; that then,\nthe thought came on me, that I would do it myself: and that he was\ngood enough to put into my hands what he had with great appositeness\nwritten, and I embodied it into my article. Every one, I think, will\nrecognise the greater part of it as mine. It was published two years\nbefore the affair of Tract 90, and was entitled \"The State of\nReligious Parties.\"\n\nIn this article, I begin by bringing together testimonies from our\nenemies to the remarkable success of our exertions. One writer said:\n\"Opinions and views of a theology of a very marked and peculiar kind\nhave been extensively adopted and strenuously upheld, and are daily\ngaining ground among a considerable and influential portion of the\nmembers, as well as ministers of the Established Church.\" Another:\nThe Movement has manifested itself \"with the most rapid growth of the\nhot-bed of these evil days.\" Another: \"The _Via Media_ is crowded\nwith young enthusiasts, who never presume to argue, except against\nthe propriety of arguing at all.\" Another: \"Were I to give you a full\nlist of the works, which they have produced within the short space of\nfive years, I should surprise you. You would see what a task it would\nbe to make yourself complete master of their system, even in its\npresent probably immature state. The writers have adopted the motto,\n'In quietness and confidence shall be your strength.' With regard\nto confidence, they have justified their adopting it; but as to\nquietness, it is not very quiet to pour forth such a succession of\ncontroversial publications.\" Another: \"The spread of these doctrines\nis in fact now having the effect of rendering all other distinctions\nobsolete, and of severing the religious community into two portions,\nfundamentally and vehemently opposed one to the other. Soon there\nwill be no middle ground left; and every man, and especially every\nclergyman, will be compelled to make his choice between the two.\"\nAnother: \"The time has gone by, when those unfortunate and deeply\nregretted publications can be passed over without notice, and the\nhope that their influence would fail is now dead.\" Another: \"These\ndoctrines had already made fearful progress. One of the largest\nchurches in Brighton is crowded to hear them; so is the church at\nLeeds. There are few towns of note, to which they have not extended.\nThey are preached in small towns in Scotland. They obtain in\nElginshire, 600 miles north of London. I found them myself in the\nheart of the highlands of Scotland. They are advocated in the\nnewspaper and periodical press. They have even insinuated themselves\ninto the House of Commons.\" And, lastly, a bishop in a charge:--It\n\"is daily assuming a more serious and alarming aspect. Under the\nspecious pretence of deference to Antiquity and respect for primitive\nmodels, the foundations of the Protestant Church are undermined by\nmen, who dwell within her walls, and those who sit in the Reformers'\nseat are traducing the Reformation.\"\n\nAfter thus stating the phenomenon of the time, as it presented itself\nto those who did not sympathise in it, the Article proceeds to\naccount for it; and this it does by considering it as a reaction from\nthe dry and superficial character of the religious teaching and the\nliterature of the last generation, or century, and as a result of\nthe need which was felt both by the hearts and the intellects of\nthe nation for a deeper philosophy, and as the evidence and as the\npartial fulfilment of that need, to which even the chief authors\nof the then generation had borne witness. First, I mentioned the\nliterary influence of Walter Scott, who turned men's minds to the\ndirection of the middle ages. \"The general need,\" I said, \"of\nsomething deeper and more attractive, than what had offered itself\nelsewhere, may be considered to have led to his popularity; and by\nmeans of his popularity he reacted on his readers, stimulating their\nmental thirst, feeding their hopes, setting before them visions,\nwhich, when once seen, are not easily forgotten, and silently\nindoctrinating them with nobler ideas, which might afterwards be\nappealed to as first principles.\"\n\nThen I spoke of Coleridge, thus: \"While history in prose and verse\nwas thus made the instrument of Church feelings and opinions, a\nphilosophical basis for the same was laid in England by a very\noriginal thinker, who, while he indulged a liberty of speculation,\nwhich no Christian can tolerate, and advocated conclusions which\nwere often heathen rather than Christian, yet after all instilled a\nhigher philosophy into inquiring minds, than they had hitherto been\naccustomed to accept. In this way he made trial of his age, and\nsucceeded in interesting its genius in the cause of Catholic truth.\"\n\nThen come Southey and Wordsworth, \"two living poets, one of whom in\nthe department of fantastic fiction, the other in that of\nphilosophical meditation, have addressed themselves to the same high\nprinciples and feelings, and carried forward their readers in the\nsame direction.\"\n\nThen comes the prediction of this reaction hazarded by \"a sagacious\nobserver withdrawn from the world, and surveying its movements from a\ndistance,\" Mr. Alexander Knox. He had said twenty years before the\ndate of my writing: \"No Church on earth has more intrinsic excellence\nthan the English Church, yet no Church probably has less practical\ninfluence ... The rich provision, made by the grace and providence of\nGod, for habits of a noble kind, is evidence that men shall arise,\nfitted both by nature and ability, to discover for themselves, and\nto display to others, whatever yet remains undiscovered, whether in\nthe words or works of God.\" Also I referred to \"a much venerated\nclergyman of the last generation,\" who said shortly before his death,\n\"Depend on it, the day will come, when those great doctrines, now\nburied, will be brought out to the light of day, and then the effect\nwill be fearful.\" I remarked upon this, that they who \"now blame the\nimpetuosity of the current, should rather turn their animadversions\nupon those who have dammed up a majestic river, till it had become a\nflood.\"\n\nThese being the circumstances under which the Movement began and\nprogressed, it was absurd to refer it to the act of two or three\nindividuals. It was not so much a movement as a \"spirit afloat;\" it\nwas within us, \"rising up in hearts where it was least suspected, and\nworking itself, though not in secret, yet so subtly and impalpably,\nas hardly to admit of precaution or encounter on any ordinary human\nrules of opposition. It is,\" I continued, \"an adversary in the air, a\nsomething one and entire, a whole wherever it is, unapproachable and\nincapable of being grasped, as being the result of causes far deeper\nthan political or other visible agencies, the spiritual awakening of\nspiritual wants.\"\n\nTo make this clear, I proceed to refer to the chief preachers of the\nrevived doctrines at that moment, and to draw attention to the\nvariety of their respective antecedents. Dr. Hook and Mr. Churton\nrepresented the high Church dignitaries of the last century; Mr.\nPerceval, the tory aristocracy; Mr. Keble came from a country\nparsonage; Mr. Palmer from Ireland; Dr. Pusey from the Universities\nof Germany, and the study of Arabic MSS.; Mr. Dodsworth from the\nstudy of Prophecy; Mr. Oakeley had gained his views, as he himself\nexpressed it, \"partly by study, partly by reflection, partly by\nconversation with one or two friends, inquirers like himself;\" while\nI speak of myself as being \"much indebted to the friendship of\nArchbishop Whately.\" And thus I am led on to ask, \"What head of a\nsect is there? What march of opinions can be traced from mind to mind\namong preachers such as these? They are one and all in their degree\nthe organs of one Sentiment, which has risen up simultaneously in\nmany places very mysteriously.\"\n\nMy train of thought next led me to speak of the disciples of the\nMovement, and I freely acknowledged and lamented that they needed to\nbe kept in order. It is very much to the purpose to draw attention to\nthis point now, when such extravagances as then occurred, whatever\nthey were, are simply laid to my door, or to the charge of the\ndoctrines which I advocated. A man cannot do more than freely confess\nwhat is wrong, say that it need not be, that it ought not to be, and\nthat he is very sorry that it should be. Now I said in the Article,\nwhich I am reviewing, that the great truths themselves, which we were\npreaching, must not be condemned on account of such abuse of them.\n\"Aberrations there must ever be, whatever the doctrine is, while the\nhuman heart is sensitive, capricious, and wayward. A mixed multitude\nwent out of Egypt with the Israelites.\" \"There will ever be a number\nof persons,\" I continued, \"professing the opinions of a movement\nparty, who talk loudly and strangely, do odd or fierce things,\ndisplay themselves unnecessarily, and disgust other people; persons,\ntoo young to be wise, too generous to be cautious, too warm to be\nsober, or too intellectual to be humble. Such persons will be very\napt to attach themselves to particular persons, to use particular\nnames, to say things merely because others do, and to act in a\nparty-spirited way.\"\n\nWhile I thus republish what I then said about such extravagances as\noccurred in these years, at the same time I have a very strong\nconviction that they furnished quite as much the welcome excuse for\nthose who were jealous or shy of us, as the stumbling-blocks of\nthose who were well inclined to our doctrines. This too we felt at\nthe time; but it was our duty to see that our good should not be\nevil-spoken of; and accordingly, two or three of the writers of the\nTracts for the Times had commenced a Series of what they called\n\"Plain Sermons\" with the avowed purpose of discouraging and\ncorrecting whatever was uppish or extreme in our followers: to this\nseries I contributed a volume myself.\n\nIts conductors say in their Preface: \"If therefore as time goes on,\nthere shall be found persons, who admiring the innate beauty and\nmajesty of the fuller system of Primitive Christianity, and seeing\nthe transcendent strength of its principles, _shall become loud and\nvoluble advocates_ in their behalf, speaking the more freely,\n_because they do not feel them deeply as founded_ in divine and\neternal truth, of such persons _it is our duty to declare plainly_,\nthat, as we should contemplate their condition with serious\nmisgiving, _so would they be the last persons from whom we should_\nseek support.\n\n\"But if, on the other hand, there shall be any, who, in the silent\nhumility of their lives, and in their unaffected reverence for holy\nthings, show that they in truth accept these principles as real and\nsubstantial, and by habitual purity of heart and serenity of temper,\ngive proof of their deep veneration for sacraments and sacramental\nordinances, those persons, _whether our professed adherents or not_,\nbest exemplify the kind of character which the writers of the Tracts\nfor the Times have wished to form.\"\n\nThese clergymen had the best of claims to use these beautiful words,\nfor they were themselves, all of them, important writers in the\nTracts, the two Mr. Kebles, and Mr. Isaac Williams. And this passage,\nwith which they ushered their Series into the world, I quoted in the\nArticle, of which I am giving an account, and I added, \"What more can\nbe required of the preachers of neglected truth, than that they\nshould admit that some, who do not assent to their preaching, are\nholier and better men than some who do?\" They were not answerable for\nthe intemperance of those who dishonoured a true doctrine, provided\nthey protested, as they did, against such intemperance. \"They were\nnot answerable for the dust and din which attends any great moral\nmovement. The truer doctrines are, the more liable they are to be\nperverted.\"\n\nThe notice of these incidental faults of opinion or temper in\nadherents of the Movement, led on to a discussion of the secondary\ncauses, by means of which a system of doctrine may be embraced,\nmodified, or developed, of the variety of schools which may all be in\nthe One Church, and of the succession of one phase of doctrine to\nanother, while it is ever one and the same. Thus I was brought on to\nthe subject of Antiquity, which was the basis of the doctrine of the\n_Via Media_, and by which was not implied a servile imitation of the\npast, but such a reproduction of it as is really young, while it is\nold. \"We have good hope,\" I say, \"that a system will be rising up,\nsuperior to the age, yet harmonising with, and carrying out its\nhigher points, which will attract to itself those who are willing to\nmake a venture and to face difficulties, for the sake of something\nhigher in prospect. On this, as on other subjects, the proverb will\napply, 'Fortes fortuna adjuvat.'\"\n\nLastly, I proceeded to the question of that future of the Anglican\nChurch, which was to be a new birth of the Ancient Religion. And I\ndid not venture to pronounce upon it. \"About the future, we have no\nprospect before our minds whatever, good or bad. Ever since that\ngreat luminary, Augustine, proved to be the last bishop of Hippo,\nChristians have had a lesson against attempting to foretell, _how_\nProvidence will prosper and\" [or?] \"bring to an end, what it begins.\"\nPerhaps the lately-revived principles would prevail in the Anglican\nChurch; perhaps they would be lost in \"some miserable schism, or some\nmore miserable compromise; but there was nothing rash in venturing to\npredict that \"neither Puritanism nor Liberalism had any permanent\ninheritance within her.\" I suppose I meant to say that in the present\nage, without the aid of apostolic principles, the Anglican Church\nwould, in the event, cease to exist.\n\n\"As to Liberalism, we think the formularies of the Church will ever,\nwith the aid of a good Providence, keep it from making any serious\ninroads upon the Clergy. Besides, it is too cold a principle to\nprevail with the multitude.\" But as regarded what was called\nEvangelical Religion or Puritanism, there was more to cause alarm.\nI observed upon its organisation; but on the other hand it had no\nintellectual basis; no internal idea, no principle of unity, no\ntheology. \"Its adherents,\" I said, \"are already separating from\neach other; they will melt away like a snow-drift. It has no\nstraightforward view on any one point, on which it professes to\nteach; and to hide its poverty, it has dressed itself out in a maze\nof words. We have no dread of it at all; we only fear what it may\nlead to. It does not stand on intrenched ground, or make any pretence\nto a position; it does but occupy the space between contending\npowers, Catholic Truth and Rationalism. Then indeed will be the stern\nencounter, when two real and living principles, simple, entire, and\nconsistent, one in the Church, the other out of it, at length rush\nupon each other, contending not for names and words, or half-views,\nbut for elementary notions and distinctive moral characters.\"\n\nWhether the ideas of the coming age upon religion were true or false,\nthey would be real. \"In the present day,\" I said, \"mistiness is the\nmother of wisdom. A man who can set down half-a-dozen general\npropositions, which escape from destroying one another only by being\ndiluted into truisms, who can hold the balance between opposites so\nskilfully as to do without fulcrum or beam, who never enunciates a\ntruth without guarding himself against being supposed to exclude the\ncontradictory--who holds that Scripture is the only authority, yet\nthat the Church is to be deferred to, that faith only justifies, yet\nthat it does not justify without works, that grace does not depend on\nthe sacraments, yet is not given without them, that bishops are a\ndivine ordinance, yet those who have them not are in the same\nreligious condition as those who have--this is your safe man and the\nhope of the Church; this is what the Church is said to want, not\nparty men, but sensible, temperate, sober, well-judging persons, to\nguide it through the channel of no-meaning, between the Scylla and\nCharybdis of Aye and No.\"\n\nThis state of things, however, I said, could not last, if men were to\nread and think. They \"will not keep standing in that very attitude\nwhich you call sound Church-of-Englandism or orthodox Protestantism.\nThey cannot go on for ever standing on one leg, or sitting without a\nchair, or walking with their feet tied, or grazing like Tityrus's\nstags in the air. They will take one view or another, but it will be\na consistent view. It may be Liberalism, or Erastianism, or Popery,\nor Catholicity; but it will be real.\"\n\nI concluded the article by saying, that all who did not wish to be\n\"democratic, or pantheistic, or popish,\" must \"look out for _some_\nVia Media which will preserve us from what threatens, though it\ncannot restore the dead. The spirit of Luther is dead; but Hildebrand\nand Loyola are alive. Is it sensible, sober, judicious, to be so very\nangry with those writers of the day, who point to the fact, that our\ndivines of the seventeenth century have occupied a ground which is\nthe true and intelligible mean between extremes? Is it wise to\nquarrel with this ground, because it is not exactly what we should\nchoose, had we the power of choice? Is it true moderation, instead of\ntrying to fortify a middle doctrine, to fling stones at those who do?\n... Would you rather have your sons and daughters members of the\nChurch of England or of the Church of Rome?\"\n\nAnd thus I left the matter. But, while I was thus speaking of the\nfuture of the Movement, I was in truth winding up my accounts with\nit, little dreaming that it was so to be;--while I was still, in some\nway or other, feeling about for an available _Via Media_, I was soon\nto receive a shock which was to cast out of my imagination all middle\ncourses and compromises for ever. As I have said, this article\nappeared in the April number of the _British Critic_; in the July\nnumber, I cannot tell why, there is no article of mine; before the\nnumber for October, the event had happened to which I have alluded.\n\nBut before I proceed to describe what happened to me in the summer of\n1839, I must detain the reader for a while, in order to describe the\n_issue_ of the controversy between Rome and the Anglican Church, as I\nviewed it. This will involve some dry discussion; but it is as\nnecessary for my narrative, as plans of buildings and homesteads are\noften found to be in the proceedings of our law courts.\n\n\nI have said already that, though the object of the Movement was to\nwithstand the liberalism of the day, I found and felt this could not\nbe done by mere negatives. It was necessary for us to have a positive\nChurch theory erected on a definite basis. This took me to the great\nAnglican divines; and then of course I found at once that it was\nimpossible to form any such theory, without cutting across the\nteaching of the Church of Rome. Thus came in the Roman controversy.\n\nWhen I first turned myself to it, I had neither doubt on the subject,\nnor suspicion that doubt would ever come upon me. It was in this\nstate of mind that I began to read up Bellarmine on the one hand, and\nnumberless Anglican writers on the other. But I soon found, as others\nhad found before me, that it was a tangled and manifold controversy,\ndifficult to master, more difficult to put out of hand with neatness\nand precision. It was easy to make points, not easy to sum up and\nsettle. It was not easy to find a clear issue for the dispute,\nand still less by a logical process to decide it in favour of\nAnglicanism. This difficulty, however, had no tendency whatever to\nharass or perplex me: it was a matter, not of convictions, but of\nproofs.\n\nFirst I saw, as all see who study the subject, that a broad\ndistinction had to be drawn between the actual state of belief and of\nusage in the countries which were in communion with the Roman Church,\nand her formal dogmas; the latter did not cover the former. Sensible\npain, for instance, is not implied in the Tridentine decree upon\npurgatory; but it was the tradition of the Latin Church, and I had\nseen the pictures of souls in flames in the streets of Naples. Bishop\nLloyd had brought this distinction out strongly in an Article in the\n_British Critic_ in 1825; indeed, it was one of the most common\nobjections made to the Church of Rome, that she dared not commit\nherself by formal decree, to what nevertheless she sanctioned and\nallowed. Accordingly, in my Prophetical Office, I view as simply\nseparate ideas, Rome quiescent, and Rome in action. I contrasted her\ncreed on the one hand, with her ordinary teaching, her controversial\ntone, her political and social bearing, and her popular beliefs and\npractices on the other.\n\nWhile I made this distinction between the decrees and the traditions\nof Rome, I drew a parallel distinction between Anglicanism quiescent,\nand Anglicanism in action. In its formal creed Anglicanism was not\nat a great distance from Rome: far otherwise, when viewed in its\ninsular spirit, the traditions of its establishment, its historical\ncharacteristics, its controversial rancour, and its private judgment.\nI disavowed and condemned those excesses, and called them\n\"Protestantism\" or \"Ultra-Protestantism:\" I wished to find a parallel\ndisclaimer, on the part of Roman controversialists, of that popular\nsystem of beliefs and usages in their own Church, which I called\n\"Popery.\" When that hope was a dream, I saw that the controversy lay\nbetween the book-theology of Anglicanism on the one side, and the\nliving system of what I called Roman corruption on the other. I could\nnot get further than this; with this result I was forced to content\nmyself.\n\nThese then were the _parties_ in the controversy:--the Anglican _Via\nMedia_ and the popular religion of Rome. And next, as to the _issue_,\nto which the controversy between them was to be brought, it was\nthis:--the Anglican disputant took his stand upon Antiquity or\napostolicity, the Roman upon Catholicity. The Anglican said to the\nRoman: \"There is but One Faith, the Ancient, and you have not kept to\nit;\" the Roman retorted: \"There is but One Church, the Catholic, and\nyou are out of it.\" The Anglican urged: \"Your special beliefs,\npractices, modes of action, are nowhere in Antiquity;\" the Roman\nobjected: \"You do not communicate with any one Church besides your\nown and its offshoots, and you have discarded principles, doctrines,\nsacraments, and usages, which are and ever have been received in the\nEast and the West.\" The true Church, as defined in the Creeds, was\nboth Catholic and Apostolic; now, as I viewed the controversy in\nwhich I was engaged, England and Rome had divided these notes or\nprerogatives between them: the cause lay thus, Apostolicity _versus_\nCatholicity.\n\nHowever, in thus stating the matter, of course I do not wish it\nsupposed, that I considered the note of Catholicity really to belong\nto Rome, to the disparagement of the Anglican Church; but that the\nspecial point or plea of Rome in the controversy was Catholicity, as\nthe Anglican plea was Antiquity. Of course I contended that the Roman\nidea of Catholicity was not ancient and apostolic. It was in my\njudgment at the utmost only natural, becoming, expedient, that the\nwhole of Christendom should be united in one visible body; while such\na unity might be, on the other hand, a mere heartless and political\ncombination. For myself, I held with the Anglican divines, that, in\nthe Primitive Church, there was a very real mutual independence\nbetween its separate parts, though, from a dictate of charity, there\nwas in fact a close union between them. I considered that each see\nand diocese might be compared to a crystal, and that each was similar\nto the rest, and that the sum total of them all was only a collection\nof crystals. The unity of the Church lay, not in its being a polity,\nbut in its being a family, a race, coming down by apostolical descent\nfrom its first founders and bishops. And I considered this truth\nbrought out, beyond the possibility of dispute, in the Epistles of\nSt. Ignatius, in which the bishop is represented as the one supreme\nauthority in the Church, that is, in his own place, with no one above\nhim, except as, for the sake of ecclesiastical order and expedience,\narrangements had been made by which one was put over or under\nanother. So much for our own claim to Catholicity, which was so\nperversely appropriated by our opponents to themselves:--on the other\nhand, as to our special strong point, Antiquity, while of course, by\nmeans of it, we were able to condemn most emphatically the novel\nclaim of Rome to domineer over other Churches, which were in truth\nher equals, further than that, we thereby especially convicted her of\nthe intolerable offence of having added to the Faith. This was the\ncritical head of accusation urged against her by the Anglican\ndisputant, and, as he referred to St. Ignatius in proof that he\nhimself was a true Catholic, in spite of being separated from Rome,\nso he triumphantly referred to the Treatise of Vincentius of Lerins\nupon the \"Quod semper, quod ubique, quod ab omnibus,\" in proof that\nthe controversialists of Rome were separated in their creed from the\napostolical and primitive faith.\n\nOf course those controversialists had their own answer to him, with\nwhich I am not concerned in this place; here I am only concerned with\nthe issue itself, between the one party and the other--Antiquity\n_versus_ Catholicity.\n\nNow I will proceed to illustrate what I have been saying of the\n_status_ of the controversy, as it presented itself to my mind, by\nextracts from my writings of the dates of 1836, 1840, and 1841. And I\nintroduce them with a remark, which especially applies to the paper,\nfrom which I shall quote first, of the date of 1836. That paper\nappeared in the March and April numbers of the _British Magazine_ of\nthat year, and was entitled \"Home Thoughts Abroad.\" Now it will be\nfound, that, in the discussion which it contains, as in various other\nwritings of mine, when I was in the Anglican Church, the argument in\nbehalf of Rome is stated with considerable perspicuity and force. And\nat the time my friends and supporters cried out \"How imprudent!\" and\nboth at the time, and especially at a later date, my enemies have\ncried out, \"How insidious!\" Friends and foes virtually agreed in\ntheir criticism; I had set out the cause which I was combating to the\nbest advantage: this was an offence; it might be from imprudence, it\nmight be with a traitorous design. It was from neither the one nor\nthe other; but for the following reasons. First, I had a great\nimpatience, whatever was the subject, of not bringing out the whole\nof it, as clearly as I could; next I wished to be as fair to my\nadversaries as possible; and thirdly I thought that there was a great\ndeal of shallowness among our own friends, and that they undervalued\nthe strength of the argument in behalf of Rome, and that they ought\nto be roused to a more exact apprehension of the position of the\ncontroversy. At a later date (1841), when I really felt the force of\nthe Roman side of the question myself, as a difficulty which had to\nbe met, I had a fourth reason for such frankness in argument, and\nthat was, because a number of persons were unsettled far more than I\nwas, as to the Catholicity of the Anglican Church. It was quite\nplain, that, unless I was perfectly candid in stating what could be\nsaid against it, there was no chance that any representations, which\nI felt to be in its favour, or at least to be adverse to Rome, would\nhave had their real weight duly acknowledged. At all times I had a\ndeep conviction, to put the matter on the lowest ground, that\n\"honesty was the best policy.\" Accordingly, in 1841, I expressed\nmyself thus on the Anglican difficulty: \"This is an objection which\nwe must honestly say is deeply felt by many people, and not\ninconsiderable ones; and the more it is openly avowed to be a\ndifficulty, the better; for there is then the chance of its being\nacknowledged, and in the course of time obviated, as far as may be,\nby those who have the power. Flagrant evils cure themselves by being\nflagrant; and we are sanguine that the time is come when so great an\nevil as this is, cannot stand its ground against the good feeling and\ncommon sense of religious persons. It is the very strength of\nRomanism against us; and, unless the proper persons take it into\ntheir serious consideration, they may look for certain to undergo the\nloss, as time goes on, of some whom they would least like to be lost\nto our Church.\" The measure which I had especially in view in this\npassage, was the project of a Jerusalem Bishopric, which the then\nArchbishop of Canterbury was at that time concocting with M. Bunsen,\nand of which I shall speak more in the sequel. And now to return to\nthe Home Thoughts Abroad of the spring of 1836:--\n\nThe discussion contained in this composition runs in the form of a\ndialogue. One of the disputants says: \"You say to me that the Church\nof Rome is corrupt. What then? to cut off a limb is a strange way of\nsaving it from the influence of some constitutional ailment.\nIndigestion may cause cramp in the extremities; yet we spare our poor\nfeet notwithstanding. Surely there is such a religious _fact_ as the\nexistence of a great Catholic body, union with which is a Christian\nprivilege and duty. Now, we English are separate from it.\"\n\nThe other answers: \"The present is an unsatisfactory, miserable state\nof things, yet I can grant no more. The Church is founded on a\ndoctrine,--on the gospel of Truth; it is a means to an end. Perish\nthe Church (though, blessed be the promise! this cannot be), yet let\nit perish _rather_ than the Truth should fail. Purity of faith is\nmore precious to the Christian than unity itself. If Rome has erred\ngrievously in doctrine, then it is a duty to separate even from\nRome.\"\n\nHis friend, who takes the Roman side of the argument, refers to the\nimage of the Vine and its branches, which is found, I think, in St.\nCyprian, as if a branch cut from the Catholic Vine must necessarily\ndie. Also he quotes a passage from St. Augustine in controversy with\nthe Donatists to the same effect; viz. that, as being separated from\nthe body of the Church, they were _ipso facto_ cut off from the\nheritage of Christ. And he quotes St. Cyril's argument drawn from the\nvery title Catholic, which no body or communion of men has ever dared\nor been able to appropriate, besides one. He adds, \"Now, I am only\ncontending for the fact, that the communion of Rome constitutes the\nmain body of the Church Catholic, and that we are split off from it,\nand in the condition of the Donatists.\"\n\nThe other replies, by denying the fact that the present Roman\ncommunion is like St. Augustine's Catholic Church, inasmuch as there\nare to be taken into account the large Anglican and Greek communions.\nPresently he takes the offensive, naming distinctly the points, in\nwhich Rome has departed from Primitive Christianity, viz. \"the\npractical idolatry, the virtual worship of the Virgin and Saints,\nwhich are the offence of the Latin Church, and the degradation of\nmoral truth and duty, which follows from these.\" And again: \"We\ncannot join a Church, did we wish it ever so much, which does not\nacknowledge our orders, refuses us the Cup, demands our acquiescence\nin image-worship, and excommunicates us, if we do not receive it and\nall the decisions of the Tridentine Council.\"\n\nHis opponent answers these objections by referring to the doctrine of\n\"developments of gospel truth.\" Besides, \"The Anglican system\nitself is not found complete in those early centuries; so that the\n[Anglican] principle [of Antiquity] is self-destructive.\" \"When a man\ntakes up this _Via Media_, he is a mere _doctrinaire_;\" he is like\nthose, \"who, in some matter of business, start up to suggest their\nown little crotchet, and are ever measuring mountains with a pocket\nruler, or improving the planetary courses.\" \"The _Via Media_ has\nslept in libraries; it is a substitute of infancy for manhood.\"\n\nIt is plain, then, that at the end of 1835 or beginning of 1836, I\nhad the whole state of the question before me, on which, to my mind,\nthe decision between the Churches depended. It is observable that the\nquestion of the position of the Pope, whether as the centre of unity,\nor as the source of jurisdiction, did not come into my thoughts at\nall; nor did it, I think I may say, to the end. I doubt whether I\never distinctly held any of his powers to be _de jure divino_, while\nI was in the Anglican Church;--not that I saw any difficulty in the\ndoctrine; not that, together with the story of St. Leo, of which I\nshall speak by and by, the idea of his infallibility did not cross my\nmind, for it did--but after all, in my view the controversy did not\nturn upon it; it turned upon the Faith and the Church. This was my\nissue of the controversy from the beginning to the end. There was a\ncontrariety of claims between the Roman and Anglican religions, and\nthe history of my conversion is simply the process of working it out\nto a solution. In 1838 I illustrated it by the contrast presented to\nus between the Madonna and Child, and a Calvary. I said that the\npeculiarity of the Anglican theology was this--that it \"supposed the\nTruth to be entirely objective and detached, not\" (as the Roman)\n\"lying hid in the bosom of the Church as if one with her, clinging\nto and (as it were) lost her embrace, but as being sole and\nunapproachable, as on the Cross or at the Resurrection, with the\nChurch close by, but in the background.\"\n\nAs I viewed the controversy in 1836 and 1838, so I viewed it in 1840\nand 1841. In the _British Critic_ of January 1840, after gradually\ninvestigating how the matter lies between the Churches by means of a\ndialogue, I end thus: \"It would seem, that, in the above discussion,\neach disputant has a strong point: our strong point is the argument\nfrom Primitiveness, that of Romanists from Universality. It is a\nfact, however it is to be accounted for, that Rome has added to the\nCreed; and it is a fact, however we justify ourselves, that we are\nestranged from the great body of Christians over the world. And each\nof these two facts is at first sight a grave difficulty in the\nrespective systems to which they belong.\" Again, \"While Rome, though\nnot deferring to the Fathers, recognises them, and England, not\ndeferring to the large body of the Church, recognises it, both Rome\nand England have a point to clear up.\"\n\nAnd still more strongly in July, 1841:\n\n\"If the Note of schism, on the one hand, lies against England, an\nantagonist disgrace lies upon Rome, the Note of idolatry. Let us not\nbe mistaken here; we are neither accusing Rome of idolatry, nor\nourselves of schism; we think neither charge tenable; but still the\nRoman Church practises what is so like idolatry, and the English\nChurch makes much of what is so very like schism, that without\ndeciding what is the duty of a Roman Catholic towards the Church of\nEngland in her present state, we do seriously think that members of\nthe English Church have a providential direction given them, how to\ncomport themselves towards the Church of Rome, while she is what she\nis.\"\n\nOne remark more about Antiquity and the _Via Media_. As time went on,\nwithout doubting the strength of the Anglican argument from\nAntiquity, I felt also that it was not merely our special plea, but\nour only one. Also I felt that the _Via Media_, which was to\nrepresent it, was to be a sort of remodelled and adapted Antiquity.\nThis I observe both in Home Thoughts Abroad, and in the Article of\nthe _British Critic_ which I have analysed above. But this\ncircumstance, that after all we must use private judgment upon\nAntiquity, created a sort of distrust of my theory altogether, which\nin the conclusion of my volume on the Prophetical Office I express\nthus: \"Now that our discussions draw to a close, the thought, with\nwhich we entered on the subject, is apt to recur, when the excitement\nof the inquiry has subsided, and weariness has succeeded, that what\nhas been said is but a dream, the wanton exercise, rather than the\npractical conclusions of the intellect.\" And I conclude the paragraph\nby anticipating a line of thought into which I was, in the event,\nalmost obliged to take refuge: \"After all,\" I say, \"the Church is\never invisible in its day, and faith only apprehends it.\" What was\nthis, but to give up the Notes of a visible Church altogether,\nwhether the Catholic Note or the Apostolic?\n\n\nThe Long Vacation of 1839 began early. There had been a great many\nvisitors to Oxford from Easter to Commemoration; and Dr. Pusey and\nmyself had attracted attention, more, I think, than any former year.\nI had put away from me the controversy with Rome for more than two\nyears. In my Parochial Sermons the subject had never been introduced:\nthere had been nothing for two years, either in my Tracts or in the\n_British Critic_, of a polemical character. I was returning, for the\nvacation, to the course of reading which I had many years before\nchosen as especially my own. I have no reason to suppose that the\nthoughts of Rome came across my mind at all. About the middle of June\nI began to study and master the history of the Monophysites. I was\nabsorbed in the doctrinal question. This was from about June 13th to\nAugust 30th. It was during this course of reading that for the first\ntime a doubt came upon me of the tenableness of Anglicanism. I\nrecollect on the 30th of July mentioning to a friend, whom I had\naccidentally met, how remarkable the history was; but by the end of\nAugust I was seriously alarmed.\n\nI have described in a former work, how the history affected me. My\nstronghold was Antiquity; now here, in the middle of the fifth\ncentury, I found, as it seemed to me, Christendom of the sixteenth\nand the nineteenth centuries reflected. I saw my face in that mirror,\nand I was a Monophysite. The Church of the _Via Media_ was in the\nposition of the Oriental communion, Rome was, where she now is; and\nthe Protestants were the Eutychians. Of all passages of history,\nsince history has been, who would have thought of going to the\nsayings and doings of old Eutyches, that _delirus senex_, as (I\nthink) Petavius calls him, and to the enormities of the unprincipled\nDioscorus, in order to be converted to Rome!\n\nNow let it be simply understood that I am not writing\ncontroversially, but with the one object of relating things as they\nhappened to me in the course of my conversion. With this view I will\nquote a passage from the account, which I gave in 1850, of my\nreasonings and feelings in 1839:\n\n\"It was difficult to make out how the Eutychians or Monophysites were\nheretics, unless Protestants and Anglicans were heretics also;\ndifficult to find arguments against the Tridentine Fathers, which did\nnot tell against the Fathers of Chalcedon; difficult to condemn the\nPopes of the sixteenth century, without condemning the Popes of the\nfifth. The drama of religion, and the combat of truth and error, were\never one and the same. The principles and proceedings of the Church\nnow, were those of the Church then; the principles and proceedings of\nheretics then, were those of Protestants now. I found it so,--almost\nfearfully; there was an awful similitude, more awful, because so\nsilent and unimpassioned, between the dead records of the past and\nthe feverish chronicle of the present. The shadow of the fifth\ncentury was on the sixteenth. It was like a spirit rising from the\ntroubled waters of the old world, with the shape and lineaments of\nthe new. The Church then, as now, might be called peremptory and\nstern, resolute, overbearing, and relentless; and heretics were\nshifting, changeable, reserved, and deceitful, ever courting civil\npower, and never agreeing together, except by its aid; and the civil\npower was ever aiming at comprehensions, trying to put the invisible\nout of view, and substituting expediency for faith. What was the use\nof continuing the controversy, or defending my position, if, after\nall, I was forging arguments for Arius or Eutyches, and turning\ndevil's advocate against the much-enduring Athanasius and the\nmajestic Leo? Be my soul with the Saints! and shall I lift up my hand\nagainst them? Sooner may my right hand forget her cunning, and wither\noutright, as his who once stretched it out against a prophet of God!\nanathema to a whole tribe of Cranmers, Ridleys, Latimers, and Jewels!\nperish the names of Bramhall, Ussher, Taylor, Stillingfleet, and\nBarrow from the face of the earth, ere I should do aught but fall at\ntheir feet in love and in worship, whose image was continually before\nmy eyes, and whose musical words were ever in my ears and on my\ntongue!\"\n\nHardly had I brought my course of reading to a close, when the\n_Dublin Review_ of that same August was put into my hands, by friends\nwho were more favourable to the cause of Rome than I was myself.\nThere was an Article in it on the \"Anglican Claim\" by Bishop Wiseman.\nThis was about the middle of September. It was on the Donatists, with\nan application to Anglicanism. I read it, and did not see much in it.\nThe Donatist controversy was known to me for some years, as I have\ninstanced above. The case was not parallel to that of the Anglican\nChurch. St. Augustine in Africa wrote against the Donatists in\nAfrica. They were a furious party who made a schism within the\nAfrican Church, and not beyond its limits. It was a case of altar\nagainst altar, of two occupants of the same see, as that between the\nnon-jurors in England and the Established Church; not the case of one\nChurch against another, as Rome against the Oriental Monophysites.\nBut my friend, an anxiously religious man, now, as then, very dear to\nme, a Protestant still, pointed out the palmary words of St.\nAugustine, which were contained in one of the extracts made in the\n_Review_, and which had escaped my observation. \"Securus judicat\norbis terrarum.\" He repeated these words again and again, and, when\nhe was gone, they kept ringing in my ears. \"Securus judicat orbis\nterrarum;\" they were words which went beyond the occasion of the\nDonatists: they applied to that of the Monophysites. They gave a\ncogency to the Article, which had escaped me at first. They decided\necclesiastical questions on a simpler rule than that of Antiquity;\nnay, St. Augustine was one of the prime oracles of Antiquity; here\nthen Antiquity was deciding against itself. What a light was hereby\nthrown upon every controversy in the Church! not that, for the\nmoment, the multitude may not falter in their judgment,--not that, in\nthe Arian hurricane, Sees more than can be numbered did not bend\nbefore its fury, and fall off from St. Athanasius,--not that the\ncrowd of Oriental Bishops did not need to be sustained during the\ncontest by the voice and the eye of St. Leo; but that the deliberate\njudgment, in which the whole Church at length rests and acquiesces,\nis an infallible prescription and a final sentence against such\nportions of it as protest and secede. Who can account for the\nimpressions which are made on him? For a mere sentence, the words of\nSt. Augustine, struck me with a power which I never had felt from any\nwords before. To take a familiar instance, they were like the \"Turn\nagain Whittington\" of the chime; or, to take a more serious one, they\nwere like the \"Tolle, lege,--Tolle, lege,\" of the child, which\nconverted St. Augustine himself. \"Securus judicat orbis terrarum!\" By\nthose great words of the ancient Father, the theory of the _Via\nMedia_ was absolutely pulverised.\n\nI became excited at the view thus opened upon me. I was just starting\non a round of visits; and I mentioned my state of mind to two most\nintimate friends: I think to no others. After a while, I got calm,\nand at length the vivid impression upon my imagination faded away.\nWhat I thought about it on reflection, I will attempt to describe\npresently. I had to determine its logical value, and its bearing upon\nmy duty. Meanwhile, so far as this was certain,--I had seen the\nshadow of a hand upon the wall. It was clear that I had a good deal\nto learn on the question of the Churches, and that perhaps some new\nlight was coming upon me. He who has seen a ghost, cannot be as if he\nhad never seen it. The heavens had opened and closed again. The\nthought for the moment had been, \"The Church of Rome will be found\nright after all;\" and then it had vanished. My old convictions\nremained as before.\n\nAt this time, I wrote my Sermon on Divine Calls, which I published in\nmy volume of Plain Sermons. It ends thus:--\n\n\"O that we could take that simple view of things, as to feel that the\none thing which lies before us is to please God! What gain is it\nto please the world, to please the great, nay even to please those\nwhom we love, compared with this? What gain is it to be applauded,\nadmired, courted, followed,--compared with this one aim, of 'not\nbeing disobedient to a heavenly vision'? What can this world offer\ncomparable with that insight into spiritual things, that keen faith,\nthat heavenly peace, that high sanctity, that everlasting\nrighteousness, that hope of glory, which they have, who in sincerity\nlove and follow our Lord Jesus Christ? Let us beg and pray Him day by\nday to reveal Himself to our souls more fully, to quicken our senses,\nto give us sight and hearing, taste and touch of the world to come;\nso to work within us, that we may sincerely say, 'Thou shalt guide me\nwith Thy counsel, and after that receive me with glory. Whom have I\nin heaven but Thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire in\ncomparison of Thee. My flesh and my heart faileth, but God is the\nstrength of my heart, and my portion for ever.'\"\n\n\nNow to trace the succession of thoughts, and the conclusions, and the\nconsequent innovations on my previous belief, and the general\nconduct, to which I was led, upon this sudden visitation. And first,\nI will say, whatever comes of saying it, for I leave inferences to\nothers, that for years I must have had something of an habitual\nnotion, though it was latent, and had never led me to distrust my own\nconvictions, that my mind had not found its ultimate rest, and that\nin some sense or other I was on journey. During the same passage\nacross the Mediterranean in which I wrote \"Lead kindly light,\" I also\nwrote the verses, which are found in the Lyra under the head of\n\"Providences,\" beginning, \"When I look back.\" This was in 1833; and,\nsince I have begun this narrative, I have found a memorandum under\nthe date of September 7, 1829, in which I speak of myself, as \"now in\nmy rooms in Oriel College, slowly advancing etc. and led on by God's\nhand blindly, not knowing whither He is taking me.\" But, whatever\nthis presentiment be worth, it was no protection against the dismay\nand disgust, which I felt, in consequence of the dreadful misgiving,\nof which I have been relating the history. The one question was, what\nwas I to do? I had to make up my mind for myself, and others could\nnot help me. I determined to be guided, not by my imagination, but by\nmy reason. And this I said over and over again in the years which\nfollowed, both in conversation and in private letters. Had it not\nbeen for this severe resolve, I should have been a Catholic sooner\nthan I was. Moreover, I felt on consideration a positive doubt, on\nthe other hand, whether the suggestion did not come from below. Then\nI said to myself, Time alone can solve that question. It was my\nbusiness to go on as usual, to obey those convictions to which I had\nso long surrendered myself, which still had possession of me, and\non which my new thoughts had no direct bearing. That new conception\nof things should only so far influence me, as it had a logical\nclaim to do so. If it came from above, it would come again;--so I\ntrusted,--and with more definite outlines. I thought of Samuel,\nbefore \"he knew the word of the Lord;\" and therefore I went, and lay\ndown to sleep again. This was my broad view of the matter, and my\n_prima facie_ conclusion.\n\nHowever, my new historical fact had to a certain point a logical\nforce. Down had come the _Via Media_ as a definite theory or scheme,\nunder the blows of St. Leo. My \"Prophetical Office\" had come to\npieces; not indeed as an argument against \"Roman errors,\" nor as\nagainst Protestantism, but as in behalf of England. I had no more a\ndistinctive plea for Anglicanism, unless I would be a Monophysite. I\nhad, most painfully, to fall back upon my three original points of\nbelief, which I have spoken so much of in a former passage,--the\nprinciple of dogma, the sacramental system, and anti-Romanism. Of\nthese three, the first two were better secured in Rome than in the\nAnglican Church. The Apostolical Succession, the two prominent\nsacraments, and the primitive Creeds, belonged, indeed, to the\nlatter, but there had been and was far less strictness on matters of\ndogma and ritual in the Anglican system than in the Roman: in\nconsequence, my main argument for the Anglican claims lay in the\npositive and special charges, which I could bring against Rome. I had\nno positive Anglican theory. I was very nearly a pure Protestant.\nLutherans had a sort of theology, so had Calvinists; I had none.\n\nHowever, this pure Protestantism, to which I was gradually left, was\nreally a practical principle. It was a strong, though it was only a\nnegative ground, and it still had great hold on me. As a boy of\nfifteen, I had so fully imbibed it, that I had actually erased in my\n_Gradus ad Parnassum_, such titles, under the word \"Papa,\" as\n\"Christi Vicarius,\" \"sacer interpres,\" and \"sceptra gerens,\" and\nsubstituted epithets so vile that I cannot bring myself to write them\ndown here. The effect of this early persuasion remained as, what I\nhave already called it, a \"stain upon my imagination.\" As regards my\nreason, I began in 1833 to form theories on the subject, which tended\nto obliterate it. In the first part of Home Thoughts Abroad, written\nin that year, after speaking of Rome as \"undeniably the most exalted\nChurch in the whole world,\" and manifesting, \"in all the truth and\nbeauty of the Spirit, that side of high mental excellence, which\nPagan Rome attempted but could not realise,--high-mindedness,\nmajesty, and the calm consciousness of power,\"--I proceed to say,\n\"Alas! ...the old spirit has revived, and the monster of Daniel's\nvision, untamed by its former judgments, has seized upon Christianity\nas the new instrument of its impieties, and awaits a second and final\nwoe from God's hand. Surely the doctrine of the _Genius Loci_ is not\nwithout foundation, and explains to us how the blessing or the curse\nattaches to cities and countries, not to generations. Michael is\nrepresented [in the book of Daniel] as opposed to the Prince of the\nkingdom of Persia. Old Rome is still alive. The Sorceress upon the\nSeven Hills, in the book of Revelation, is not the Church of Rome,\nbut Rome itself, the bad spirit, which, in its former shape, was the\nanimating spirit of the Fourth Monarchy.\" Then I refer to St.\nMalachi's Prophecy which \"makes a like distinction between the City\nand the Church of Rome. 'In the last persecution,' it says, 'of the\nHoly Roman Church, Peter of Rome shall be on the throne, who shall\nfeed his flock in many tribulations. When these are past, the City\nupon the Seven Hills shall be destroyed, and the awful Judge shall\njudge the people.'\" Then I append my moral. \"I deny that the\ndistinction is unmeaning; Is it nothing to be able to look on our\nMother, to whom we owe the blessing of Christianity, with affection\ninstead of hatred? with pity indeed, aye, and fear, but not with\nhorror? Is it nothing to rescue her from the hard names, which\ninterpreters of prophecy have put upon her, as an idolatress and an\nenemy of God, when she is deceived rather than a deceiver? Nothing to\nbe able to account her priests as ordained of God, and anointed for\ntheir spiritual functions by the Holy Spirit, instead of considering\nher communion the bond of Satan?\" This was my first advance in\nrescuing, on an intelligible, intellectual basis, the Roman Church\nfrom the designation of Antichrist; it was not the Church, but the\nold dethroned Pagan monster, still living in the ruined city, that\nwas Antichrist.\n\nIn a Tract in 1838, I profess to give the opinions of the Fathers on\nthe subject, and the conclusions to which I come, are still less\nviolent against the Roman Church, though on the same basis as before.\nI say that the local Christian Church of Rome has been the means of\nshielding the pagan city from the fulness of those judgments, which\nare due to it; and that, in consequence of this, though Babylon has\nbeen utterly swept from the earth, Rome remains to this day. The\nreason seemed to be simply this, that, when the barbarians came down,\nGod had a people in that city. Babylon was a mere prison of the\nChurch; Rome had received her as a guest. \"That vengeance has never\nfallen: it is still suspended; nor can reason be given why Rome\nhas not fallen under the rule of God's general dealings with His\nrebellious creatures, except that a Christian Church is still in that\ncity, sanctifying it, interceding for it, saving it.\" I add in a\nnote, \"No opinion, one way or the other, is here expressed as to\nthe question, how far, as the local Church has saved Rome, so Rome\nhas corrupted the local Church; or whether the local Church in\nconsequence, or again whether other Churches elsewhere, may or may\nnot be types of Antichrist.\" I quote all this in order to show how\nBishop Newton was still upon my mind even in 1838; and how I was\nfeeling after some other interpretation of prophecy instead of his,\nand not without a good deal of hesitation.\n\nHowever, I have found notes written in March, 1839, which anticipate\nmy article in the _British Critic_ of October, 1840, in which I\ncontended that the Churches of Rome and England were both one, and\nalso the one true Church, for the very reason that they had both been\nstigmatised by the name of Antichrist, proving my point from the\ntext, \"If they have called the Master of the House Beelzebub, how\nmuch more them of His household,\" and quoting largely from Puritans\nand Independents to show that, in their mouths, the Anglican Church\nis Antichrist and Anti-christian as well as the Roman. I urged in\nthat article that the calumny of being Antichrist is almost \"one of\nthe notes of the true Church;\" and that \"there is no medium between a\nVice-Christ and Anti-Christ;\" for \"it is not the _acts_ that make the\ndifference between them, but the _authority_ for those acts.\" This of\ncourse was a new mode of viewing the question; but we cannot unmake\nourselves or change our habits in a moment. It is quite clear, that,\nif I dared not commit myself in 1838, to the belief that the Church\nof Rome was not a type of Antichrist, I could not have thrown off the\nunreasoning prejudice and suspicion, which I cherished about her,\nfor some time after, at least by fits and starts, in spite of the\nconviction of my reason. I cannot prove this, but I believe it to\nhave been the case from what I recollect of myself. Nor was there\nanything in the history of St. Leo and the Monophysites to undo the\nfirm belief I had in the existence of what I called the practical\nabuses and excesses of Rome.\n\nTo the inconsistencies then, to the ambition and intrigue, to the\nsophistries of Rome (as I considered them to be) I had recourse in my\nopposition to her, both public and personal. I did so by way of a\nrelief. I had a great and growing dislike, after the summer of 1839,\nto speak against the Roman Church herself or her formal doctrines. I\nwas very averse to speak against doctrines, which might possibly turn\nout to be true, though at the time I had no reason for thinking they\nwere, or against the Church, which had preserved them. I began to\nhave misgivings, that, strong as my own feelings had been against\nher, yet in some things which I had said, I had taken the statements\nof Anglican divines for granted without weighing them for myself. I\nsaid to a friend in 1840, in a letter, which I shall use presently,\n\"I am troubled by doubts whether as it is, I have not, in what I have\npublished, spoken too strongly against Rome, though I think I did it\nin a kind of faith, being determined to put myself into the English\nsystem, and say all that our divines said, whether I had fully\nweighed it or not.\" I was sore about the great Anglican divines, as\nif they had taken me in, and made me say strong things, which facts\ndid not justify. Yet I _did_ still hold in substance all that I had\nsaid against the Church of Rome in my Prophetical Office. I felt the\nforce of the usual Protestant objections against her; I believed that\nwe had the apostolical succession in the Anglican Church, and the\ngrace of the sacraments; I was not sure that the difficulty of its\nisolation might not be overcome, though I was far from sure that it\ncould. I did not see any clear proof that it had committed itself to\nany heresy, or had taken part against the truth; and I was not sure\nthat it would not revive into full apostolic purity and strength, and\ngrow into union with Rome herself (Rome explaining her doctrines and\nguarding against their abuse), that is, if we were but patient and\nhopeful. I wished for union between the Anglican Church and Rome, if,\nand when, it was possible; and I did what I could to gain weekly\nprayers for that object. The ground which I felt good against her was\nthe moral ground: I felt I could not be wrong in striking at her\npolitical and social line of action. The alliance of a dogmatic\nreligion with liberals, high or low, seemed to me a providential\ndirection against moving towards it, and a better \"Preservative\nagainst Popery,\" than the three volumes of folio, in which, I think,\nthat prophylactic is to be found. However, on occasions which\ndemanded it, I felt it a duty to give out plainly all that I thought,\nthough I did not like to do so. One such instance occurred, when I\nhad to publish a letter about Tract 90. In that letter I said,\n\"Instead of setting before the soul the Holy Trinity, and heaven and\nhell, the Church of Rome does seem to me, as a popular system, to\npreach the Blessed Virgin and the Saints, and purgatory.\" On this\noccasion I recollect expressing to a friend the distress it gave me\nthus to speak; but, I said, \"How can I help saying it, if I think it?\nand I _do_ think it; my Bishop calls on me to say out what I think;\nand that is the long and the short of it.\" But I recollected Hurrell\nFroude's words to me, almost his dying words, \"I must enter another\nprotest against your cursing and swearing. What good can it do? and I\ncall it uncharitable to an excess. How mistaken we may ourselves be,\non many points that are only gradually opening on us!\"\n\nInstead then of speaking of errors in doctrine, I was driven, by my\nstate of mind, to insist upon the political conduct, the\ncontroversial bearing, and the social methods and manifestations of\nRome. And here I found a matter close at hand, which affected me most\nsensibly too, because it was before my eyes. I can hardly describe\ntoo strongly my feeling upon it. I had an unspeakable aversion to the\npolicy and acts of Mr. O'Connell, because, as I thought, he\nassociated himself with men of all religions and no religion against\nthe Anglican Church, and advanced Catholicism by violence and\nintrigue. When then I found him taken up by the English Catholics,\nand, as I supposed, at Rome, I considered I had a fulfilment before\nmy eyes how the Court of Rome played fast and loose, and fulfilled\nthe bad points which I had seen put down in books against it. Here we\nsaw what Rome was in action, whatever she might be when quiescent.\nHer conduct was simply secular and political.\n\nThis feeling led me into the excess of being very rude to that\nzealous and most charitable man, Mr. Spencer, when he came to Oxford\nin January, 1840, to get Anglicans to set about praying for unity. I\nmyself then, or soon after, drew up such prayers; it was one of the\nfirst thoughts which came upon me after my shock, but I was too much\nannoyed with the political action of the members of the Roman Church\nin England to wish to have anything to do with them personally. So\nglad in my heart was I to see him when he came to my rooms, whither\nMr. Palmer of Magdalen brought him, that I could have laughed for\njoy; I think I did; but I was very rude to him, I would not meet him\nat dinner, and that (though I did not say so) because I considered\nhim \"in loco apostatae\" from the Anglican Church, and I hereby beg his\npardon for it. I wrote afterwards with a view to apologise, but I\ndare say he must have thought that I made the matter worse, for these\nwere my words to him:--\n\n\"The news that you are praying for us is most touching, and raises a\nvariety of indescribable emotions. May their prayers return\nabundantly into their own bosoms! Why then do I not meet you in a\nmanner conformable with these first feelings? For this single reason,\nif I may say it, that your acts are contrary to your words. You\ninvite us to a union of hearts, at the same time that you are doing\nall you can, not to restore, not to reform, not to reunite, but to\ndestroy our Church. You go further than your principles require. You\nare leagued with our enemies. 'The voice is Jacob's voice, but the\nhands are the hands of Esau.' This is what especially distresses us;\nthis is what we cannot understand, how Christians, like yourselves,\nwith the clear view you have that a warfare is ever waging in the\nworld between good and evil, should, in the present state of England,\nally yourselves with the side of evil against the side of good.... Of\nparties now in the country, you cannot but allow, that next to\nyourselves we are nearest to revealed truth. We maintain great and\nholy principles; we profess Catholic doctrines.... So near are we as\na body to yourselves in modes of thinking, as even to have been\ntaunted with the nicknames which belong to you; and, on the other\nhand, if there are professed infidels, scoffers, sceptics,\nunprincipled men, rebels, they are found among our opponents. And yet\nyou take part with them against us.... You consent to act hand in\nhand [with these and others] for our overthrow. Alas! all this it is\nthat impresses us irresistibly with the notion that you are a\npolitical, not a religious party; that, in order to gain an end on\nwhich you set your hearts,--an open stage for yourselves in\nEngland--you ally yourselves with those who hold nothing against\nthose who hold something. This is what distresses my own mind so\ngreatly, to speak of myself, that, with limitations which need not\nnow be mentioned, I cannot meet familiarly any leading persons of the\nRoman Communion, and least of all when they come on a religious\nerrand. Break off, I would say, with Mr. O'Connell in Ireland and the\nliberal party in England, or come not to us with overtures for mutual\nprayer and religious sympathy.\"\n\nAnd here came in another feeling, of a personal nature, which had\nlittle to do with the argument against Rome, except that, in my\nprejudice, I connected it with my own ideas of the usual conduct of\nher advocates and instruments. I was very stern upon any interference\nin our Oxford matters on the part of charitable Catholics, and on any\nattempt to do me good personally. There was nothing, indeed, at the\ntime more likely to throw me back. \"Why do you meddle? why cannot you\nlet me alone? You can do me no good; you know nothing on earth about\nme; you may actually do me harm; I am in better hands than yours. I\nknow my own sincerity of purpose; and I am determined upon taking my\ntime.\" Since I have been a Catholic, people have sometimes accused me\nof backwardness in making converts; and Protestants have argued from\nit that I have no great eagerness to do so. It would be against my\nnature to act otherwise than I do; but besides, it would be to forget\nthe lessons which I gained in the experience of my own history in the\npast.\n\nThis is the account which I have to give of some savage and\nungrateful words in the _British Critic_ of 1840 against the\ncontroversialists of Rome: \"By their fruits ye shall know them.... We\nsee it attempting to gain converts among us by unreal representations\nof its doctrines, plausible statements, bold assertions, appeals to\nthe weaknesses of human nature, to our fancies, our eccentricities,\nour fears, our frivolities, our false philosophies. We see its\nagents, smiling and nodding and ducking to attract attention, as\ngipsies make up to truant boys, holding out tales for the nursery,\nand pretty pictures, and gilt gingerbread, and physic concealed in\njam, and sugar-plums for good children. Who can but feel shame when\nthe religion of Ximenes, Borromeo, and Pascal, is so overlaid? Who\ncan but feel sorrow, when its devout and earnest defenders so mistake\nits genius and its capabilities? We Englishmen like manliness,\nopenness, consistency, truth. Rome will never gain on us, till she\nlearns these virtues, and uses them; and then she may gain us, but it\nwill be by ceasing to be what we now mean by Rome, by having a right,\nnot to 'have dominion over our faith,' but to gain and possess our\naffections in the bonds of the gospel. Till she ceases to be what she\npractically is, a union is impossible between her and England; but,\nif she does reform (and who can presume to say that so large a part\nof Christendom never can?) then it will be our Church's duty at once\nto join in communion with the continental Churches, whatever\npoliticians at home may say to it, and whatever steps the civil power\nmay take in consequence. And though we may not live to see that day,\nat least we are bound to pray for it; we are bound to pray for our\nbrethren that they and we may be led together into the pure light of\nthe gospel, and be one as we once were one. It was most touching news\nto be told, as we were lately, that Christians on the Continent were\npraying together for the spiritual well-being of England. May they\ngain light, while they aim at unity, and grow in faith while they\nmanifest their love! We too have our duties to them; not of reviling,\nnot of slandering, not of hating, though political interests require\nit; but the duty of loving brethren still more abundantly in spirit,\nwhose faces, for our sins and their sins, we are not allowed to see\nin the flesh.\"\n\nNo one ought to indulge in insinuations; it certainly diminishes my\nright to complain of slanders uttered against myself, when, as in\nthis passage, I had already spoken in condemnation of that class of\ncontroversialists to which I myself now belong.\n\n\nI have thus put together, as well as I could, what has to be said\nabout my general state of mind from the autumn of 1839 to the summer\nof 1841; and, having done so, I go on to narrate how my new\nmisgivings affected my conduct, and my relations towards the Anglican\nChurch.\n\nWhen I got back to Oxford in October, 1839, after the visits which I\nhad been paying, it so happened, there had been, in my absence,\noccurrences of an awkward character, bringing me into collision both\nwith my Bishop and also with the University authorities; and this\ndrew my attention at once to the state of what would be considered\nthe Movement party there, and made me very anxious for the future. In\nthe spring of the year, as has been seen in the Article analysed\nabove, I had spoken of the excesses which were to be found among\npersons commonly included in it; at that time I thought little of\nsuch an evil, but the new thoughts, which had come on me during the\nlong vacation, on the one hand made me comprehend it, and on the\nother took away my power of effectually meeting it. A firm and\npowerful control was necessary to keep men straight; I never had a\nstrong wrist, but at the very time, when it was most needed, the\nreins had broken in my hands. With an anxious presentiment on my mind\nof the upshot of the whole inquiry, which it was almost impossible\nfor me to conceal from men who saw me day by day, who heard my\nfamiliar conversation, who came perhaps for the express purpose of\npumping me, and having a categorical _yes_ or _no_ to their\nquestions--how could I expect to say anything about my actual,\npositive, present belief, which would be sustaining or consoling to\nsuch persons as were haunted already by doubts of their own? Nay, how\ncould I, with satisfaction to myself, analyse my own mind, and say\nwhat I held and what I did not? or say with what limitations, shades\nof difference, or degrees of belief, I held that body of opinions\nwhich I had openly professed and taught? how could I deny or assert\nthis point or that, without injustice to the new view, in which the\nwhole evidence for those old opinions presented itself to my mind?\n\nHowever, I had to do what I could, and what was best, under the\ncircumstances; I found a general talk on the subject of the article\nin the _Dublin Review_; and, if it had affected me, it was not\nwonderful, that it affected others also. As to myself, I felt no kind\nof certainty that the argument in it was conclusive. Taking it at the\nworst, granting that the Anglican Church had not the note of\nCatholicity; yet there were many notes of the Church. Some belonged\nto one age or place, some to another. Bellarmine had reckoned\nTemporal Prosperity among the notes of the Church; but the Roman\nChurch had not any great popularity, wealth, glory, power, or\nprospects, in the nineteenth century. It was not at all certain yet,\neven that we had not the note of Catholicity; but, if not we had\nothers. My first business then, was to examine this question\ncarefully, and see, if a great deal could not be said after all for\nthe Anglican Church, in spite of its acknowledged shortcomings. This\nI did in an Article \"on the Catholicity of the English Church,\" which\nappeared in the _British Critic_ of January, 1840. As to my personal\ndistress on the point, I think it had gone by February 21st in that\nyear, for I wrote then to Mr. Bowden about the important Article in\nthe Dublin, thus: \"It made a great impression here [Oxford]; and, I\nsay what of course I would only say to such as yourself, it made me\nfor a while very uncomfortable in my own mind. The great speciousness\nof his argument is one of the things which have made me despond so\nmuch,\" that is, as to its effect upon others.\n\nBut, secondly, the great stumbling-block lay in the 39 Articles.\nIt was urged that here was a positive Note _against_\nAnglicanism:--Anglicanism claimed to hold that the Church of England\nwas nothing else than a continuation in this country (as the Church\nof Rome might be in France or Spain) of that one Church of which in\nold times Athanasius and Augustine were members. But, if so, the\ndoctrine must be the same; the doctrine of the Old Church must live\nand speak in Anglican formularies, in the 39 Articles. Did it? Yes,\nit did; that is what I maintained; it did in substance, in a true\nsense. Man had done his worst to disfigure, to mutilate, the old\nCatholic Truth, but there it was, in spite of them, in the Articles\nstill. It was there, but this must be shown. It was a matter of life\nand death to us to show it. And I believed that it could be shown; I\nconsidered that those grounds of justification, which I gave above,\nwhen I was speaking of Tract 90, were sufficient for the purpose; and\ntherefore I set about showing it at once. This was in March, 1840,\nwhen I went up to Littlemore. And, as it was a matter of life and\ndeath with us, all risks must be run to show it. When the attempt was\nactually made, I had got reconciled to the prospect of it, and had no\napprehensions as to the experiment; but in 1840, while my purpose was\nhonest, and my grounds of reason satisfactory, I did nevertheless\nrecognise that I was engaged in an _experimentum crucis_. I have no\ndoubt that then I acknowledged to myself that it would be a trial of\nthe Anglican Church, which it had never undergone before--not that\nthe Catholic sense of the Articles had not been held or at least\nsuffered by their framers and promulgators, and was not implied in\nthe teaching of Andrewes or Beveridge, but that it had never been\npublicly recognised, while the interpretation of the day was\nProtestant and exclusive. I observe also, that, though my Tract was\nan experiment, it was, as I said at the time, \"no _feeler_,\" the\nevent showed it; for, when my principle was not granted, I did not\ndraw back, but gave up. I would not hold office in a Church which\nwould not allow my sense of the Articles. My tone was, \"This is\nnecessary for us, and have it we must and will, and, if it tends to\nbring men to look less bitterly on the Church of Rome, so much the\nbetter.\"\n\nThis then was the second work to which I set myself; though when I\ngot to Littlemore, other things came in the way of accomplishing it\nat the moment. I had in mind to remove all such obstacles as were in\nthe way of holding the Apostolic and Catholic character of the\nAnglican teaching; to assert the right of all who chose to say in the\nface of day, \"Our Church teaches the Primitive Ancient faith.\" I did\nnot conceal this: in Tract 90, it is put forward as the first\nprinciple of all, \"It is a duty which we owe both to the Catholic\nChurch, and to our own, to take our reformed confessions in the most\nCatholic sense they will admit: we have no duties towards their\nframers.\" And still more pointedly in my letter, explanatory of the\nTract, addressed to Dr. Jelf, I say: \"The only peculiarity of the\nview I advocate, if I must so call it, is this--that whereas it is\nusual at this day to make the _particular belief of their writers_\ntheir true interpretation, I would make the _belief of the Catholic\nChurch such_. That is, as it is often said that infants are\nregenerated in Baptism, not on the faith of their parents, but of the\nChurch, so in like manner I would say that the Articles are received,\nnot in the sense of their framers, but (as far as the wording will\nadmit or any ambiguity requires it) in the one Catholic sense.\"\n\nA third measure which I distinctly contemplated, was the resignation\nof St. Mary's, whatever became of the question of the Articles; and\nas a first step I meditated a retirement to Littlemore. I had built a\nChurch there several years before; and I went there to pass the Lent\nof 1840, and gave myself up to teaching in the poor schools, and\npractising the choir. At the same time, I contemplated a monastic\nhouse there. I bought ten acres of ground and began planting; but\nthis great design was never carried out. I mention it, because it\nshows how little I had really the idea then of ever leaving the\nAnglican Church. That I also contemplated even the further step of\ngiving up St. Mary's itself as early as 1839, appears from a letter\nwhich I wrote in October, 1840, to the friend whom it was most\nnatural for me to consult on such a point. It ran as follows:--\n\n\"For a year past a feeling has been growing on me that I ought to\ngive up St. Mary's, but I am no fit judge in the matter. I cannot\nascertain accurately my own impressions and convictions, which are\nthe basis of the difficulty, and though you cannot of course do this\nfor me, yet you may help me generally, and perhaps supersede the\nnecessity of my going by them at all.\n\n\"First, it is certain that I do not know my Oxford parishioners; I am\nnot conscious of influencing them, and certainly I have no insight\ninto their spiritual state. I have no personal, no pastoral\nacquaintance with them. To very few have I any opportunity of saying\na religious word. Whatever influence I exert on them is precisely\nthat which I may be exerting on persons out of my parish. In my\nexcuse I am accustomed to say to myself that I am not adapted to get\non with them, while others are. On the other hand, I am conscious\nthat by means of my position at St. Mary's I do exert a considerable\ninfluence on the University, whether on Undergraduates or Graduates.\nIt seems, then, on the whole that I am using St. Mary's, to the\nneglect of its direct duties, for objects not belonging to it; I am\nconverting a parochial charge into a sort of University office.\n\n\"I think I may say truly that I have begun scarcely any plan but for\nthe sake of my parish, but every one has turned, independently of me,\ninto the direction of the University. I began Saints'-days Services,\ndaily Services, and Lectures in Adam de Brome's Chapel, for my\nparishioners; but they have not come to them. In consequence I\ndropped the last mentioned, having, while it lasted, been naturally\nled to direct it to the instruction of those who did come, instead of\nthose who did not. The Weekly Communion, I believe, I did begin for\nthe sake of the University.\n\n\"Added to this the authorities of the University, the appointed\nguardians of those who form great part of the attendants on my\nSermons, have shown a dislike of my preaching. One dissuades men from\ncoming;--the late Vice-Chancellor threatens to take his own children\naway from the Church; and the present, having an opportunity last\nspring of preaching in my parish pulpit, gets up and preaches against\ndoctrine with which I am in good measure identified. No plainer proof\ncan be given of the feeling in these quarters, than the absurd myth,\nnow a second time put forward, that 'Vice-Chancellors cannot be got\nto take the office on account of Puseyism.'\n\n\"But further than this, I cannot disguise from myself that my\npreaching is not calculated to defend that system of religion which\nhas been received for 300 years, and of which the Heads of Houses are\nthe legitimate maintainers in this place. They exclude me, as far as\nmay be, from the University Pulpit; and, though I never have preached\nstrong doctrine in it, they do so rightly, so far as this, that they\nunderstand that my sermons are calculated to undermine things\nestablished. I cannot disguise from myself that they are. No one will\ndeny that most of my sermons are on moral subjects, not doctrinal;\nstill I am leading my hearers to the Primitive Church, if you will,\nbut not to the Church of England. Now, ought one to be disgusting the\nminds of young men with the received religion, in the exercise of a\nsacred office, yet without a commission, against the wish of their\nguides and governors?\n\n\"But this is not all. I fear I must allow that, whether I will or no,\nI am disposing them towards Rome. First, because Rome is the only\nrepresentative of the Primitive Church besides ourselves; in\nproportion then as they are loosened from the one, they will go to\nthe other. Next, because many doctrines which I have held, have far\ngreater, or their only scope, in the Roman system. And, moreover, if,\nas is not unlikely, we have in process of time heretical Bishops or\nteachers among us, an evil which _ipso facto_ infects the whole\ncommunity to which they belong, and if, again (what there are at this\nmoment symptoms of), there be a movement in the English Roman\nCatholics to break the alliance of O'Connell and of Exeter Hall,\nstrong temptations will be placed in the way of individuals, already\nimbued with a tone of thought congenial to Rome, to join her\nCommunion.\n\n\"People tell me, on the other hand, that I am, whether by sermons or\notherwise, exerting at St. Mary's a beneficial influence on our\nprospective clergy; but what if I take to myself the credit of seeing\nfurther than they, and of having in the course of the last year\ndiscovered that what they approve so much is very likely to end in\nRomanism?\n\n\"The _arguments_ which I have published against Romanism seem to\nmyself as cogent as ever, but men go by their sympathies, not by\nargument; and if I feel the force of this influence myself, who bow\nto the arguments, why may not others still more who never have in the\nsame degree admitted the arguments?\n\n\"Nor can I counteract the danger by preaching or writing against\nRome. I seem to myself almost to have shot my last arrow in the\nArticle on English Catholicity. It must be added, that the very\ncircumstance that I have committed myself against Rome has the effect\nof setting to sleep people suspicious about me, which is painful now\nthat I begin to have suspicions about myself. I mentioned my general\ndifficulty to A. B. a year since, than whom I know no one of a more\nfine and accurate conscience, and it was his spontaneous idea that I\nshould give up St. Mary's, if my feelings continued. I mentioned it\nagain to him lately, and he did not reverse his opinion, only\nexpressed great reluctance to believe it must be so.\"\n\nMy friend's judgment was in favour of my retaining my living; at\nleast for the present; what weighed with me most was his saying, \"You\nmust consider, whether your retiring either from the Pastoral Care\nonly, or from writing and printing and editing in the cause, would\nnot be a sort of scandalous thing, unless it were done very warily.\nIt would be said, 'You see he can go on no longer with the Church of\nEngland, except in mere Lay Communion;' or people might say you\nrepented of the cause altogether. Till you see [your way to mitigate,\nif not remove this evil] I certainly should advise you to stay.\" I\nanswered as follows:--\n\n\"Since you think I _may_ go on, it seems to follow that, under the\ncircumstances, I _ought_ to do so. There are plenty of reasons for\nit, directly it is allowed to be lawful. The following considerations\nhave much reconciled my feelings to your conclusion.\n\n\"1. I do not think that we have yet made fair trial how much the\nEnglish Church will bear. I know it is a hazardous experiment--like\nproving cannon. Yet we must not take it for granted, that the metal\nwill burst in the operation. It has borne at various times, not to\nsay at this time, a great infusion of Catholic truth without damage.\nAs to the result, viz. whether this process will not approximate the\nwhole English Church, as a body to Rome, that is nothing to us. For\nwhat we know, it may be the providential means of uniting the whole\nChurch in one, without fresh schismatising or use of private\njudgment.\"\n\nHere I observe, that, what was contemplated was the bursting of the\n_Catholicity_ of the Anglican Church, that is, my _subjective idea_\nof that Church. Its bursting would not hurt her with the world, but\nwould be a discovery that she was purely and essentially Protestant,\nand would be really the \"hoisting of the engineer with his own\npetard.\" And this was the result. I continue:--\n\n\"2. Say, that I move sympathies for Rome: in the same sense does\nHooker, Taylor, Bull, etc. Their _arguments_ may be against Rome, but\nthe sympathies they raise must be towards Rome, _so far_ as Rome\nmaintains truths which our Church does not teach or enforce. Thus it\nis a question of _degree_ between our divines and me. I may, if so\nbe, go further; I may raise sympathies _more_; but I am but urging\nminds in the same direction as they do. I am doing just the very\nthing which all our doctors have ever been doing. In short, would not\nHooker, if Vicar of St. Mary's, be in my difficulty?\"--Here it may be\nsaid, that Hooker could preach against Rome, and I could not; but I\ndoubt whether he could have preached effectively against\ntransubstantiation better than I, though neither he nor I held it.\n\n\"3. Rationalism is the great evil of the day. May not I consider my\npost at St. Mary's as a place of protest against it? I am more\ncertain that the Protestant [spirit], which I oppose, leads to\ninfidelity, than that which I recommend, leads to Rome. Who knows\nwhat the state of the University may be, as regards Divinity\nProfessors in a few years hence? Anyhow, a great battle may be coming\non, of which C. D.'s book is a sort of earnest. The whole of _our_\nday may be a battle with this spirit. May we not leave to another age\n_its own_ evil--to settle the question of Romanism?\"\n\nI may add that from this time I had a Curate at St. Mary's, who\ngradually took more and more of my work.\n\nAlso, this same year, 1840, I made arrangements for giving up the\n_British Critic_, in the following July, which were carried into\neffect at that date.\n\nSuch was about my state of mind, on the publication of Tract 90 in\nFebruary, 1841. The immense commotion consequent upon the publication\nof the Tract did not unsettle me again; for I had weathered the\nstorm: the Tract had not been condemned: that was the great point; I\nmade much of it.\n\nTo illustrate my feelings during this trial, I will make extracts\nfrom my letters to a friend, which have come into my possession. The\ndates are respectively March 25, April 1, and May 9.\n\n1. \"I do trust I shall make no false step, and hope my friends will\npray for me to this effect. If, as you say, a destiny hangs over us,\na single false step may ruin all. I am very well and comfortable; but\nwe are not yet out of the wood.\"\n\n2. \"The Bishop sent me word on Sunday to write a letter to him\n'_instanter_.' So I wrote it on Monday: on Tuesday it passed through\nthe press: on Wednesday it was out: and to-day [Thursday] it is in\nLondon.\n\n\"I trust that things are smoothing now; and that we have made a\n_great step_ is certain. It is not right to boast, till I am clear\nout of the wood, _i.e._ till I know how the letter is received in\nLondon. You know, I suppose, that I am to stop the Tracts; but you\nwill see in the Letter, though I speak _quite_ what I feel, yet I\nhave managed to take out on _my_ side my snubbing's worth. And this\nmakes me anxious how it will be received in London.\n\n\"I have not had a misgiving for five minutes from the first: but I do\nnot like to boast, lest some harm come.\"\n\n3. \"The Bishops are very desirous of hushing the matter up: and I\ncertainly have done my utmost to co-operate with them, on the\nunderstanding that the Tract is not to be withdrawn or condemned.\"\n\nAnd to my friend, Mr. Bowden, under date of March 15, \"The Heads, I\nbelieve, have just done a violent act: they have said that my\ninterpretation of the Articles is an _evasion_. Do not think that\nthis will pain me. You see, no _doctrine_ is censured, and my\nshoulders shall manage to bear the charge. If you knew all, or were\nhere, you would see that I have asserted a great principle, and I\n_ought_ to suffer for it:--that the Articles are to be interpreted,\nnot according to the meaning of the writers, but (as far as the\nwording will admit) according to the sense of the Catholic Church.\"\n\nUpon occasion of Tract 90 several Catholics wrote to me; I answered\none of my correspondents thus:--\n\n\"April 8.--You have no cause to be surprised at the discontinuance of\nthe Tracts. We feel no misgivings about it whatever, as if the cause\nof what we hold to be Catholic truth would suffer thereby. My letter\nto my Bishop has, I trust, had the effect of bringing the\npreponderating _authority_ of the Church on our side. No stopping of\nthe Tracts can, humanly speaking, stop the spread of the opinions\nwhich they have inculcated.\n\n\"The Tracts are not _suppressed_. No doctrine or principle has been\nconceded by us, or condemned by authority. The Bishop has but said\nthat a certain Tract is 'objectionable,' no reason being stated. I\nhave no intention whatever of yielding any one point which I hold on\nconviction; and that the authorities of the Church know full well.\"\n\n\nIn the summer of 1841, I found myself at Littlemore without any\nharass or anxiety on my mind. I had determined to put aside all\ncontroversy, and I set myself down to my translation of St.\nAthanasius; but, between July and November, I received three blows\nwhich broke me.\n\n1. I had got but a little way in my work, when my trouble returned on\nme. The ghost had come a second time. In the Arian History I found\nthe very same phenomenon, in a far bolder shape, which I had found in\nthe Monophysite. I had not observed it in 1832. Wonderful that this\nshould come upon me! I had not sought it out; I was reading and\nwriting in my own line of study, far from the controversies of the\nday, on what is called a \"metaphysical\" subject; but I saw clearly,\nthat in the history of Arianism, the pure Arians were the\nProtestants, the semi-Arians were the Anglicans, and that Rome now\nwas what it was. The truth lay, not with the _Via Media_, but in what\nwas called \"the extreme party.\" As I am not writing a work of\ncontroversy, I need not enlarge upon the argument; I have said\nsomething on the subject in a volume which I published fourteen years\nago.\n\n2. I was in the misery of this new unsettlement, when a second blow\ncame upon me. The bishops one after another began to charge against\nme. It was a formal, determinate movement. This was the real\n\"understanding;\" that, on which I had acted on occasion of Tract 90,\nhad come to nought. I think the words, which had then been used to\nme, were, that \"perhaps two or three might think it necessary to say\nsomething in their charges;\" but by this time they had tided over the\ndifficulty of the Tract, and there was no one to enforce the\n\"understanding.\" They went on in this way, directing charges at me,\nfor three whole years. I recognised it as a condemnation; it was the\nonly one that was in their power. At first I intended to protest; but\nI gave up the thought in despair.\n\nOn October 17th, I wrote thus to a friend: \"I suppose it will be\nnecessary in some shape or other to reassert Tract 90; else, it will\nseem, after these Bishops' Charges, as if it were silenced, which it\nhas not been, nor do I intend it should be. I wish to keep quiet; but\nif Bishops speak, I will speak too. If the view were silenced, I\ncould not remain in the Church, nor could many others; and therefore,\nsince it is _not_ silenced, I shall take care to show that it isn't.\"\n\nA day or two after, Oct. 22, a stranger wrote to me to say, that the\nTracts for the Times had made a young friend of his a Catholic, and\nto ask, \"would I be so good as to convert him back;\" I made answer:\n\n\"If conversions to Rome take place in consequence of the Tracts for\nthe Times, I do not impute blame to them, but to those who, instead\nof acknowledging such Anglican principles of theology and\necclesiastical polity as they contain, set themselves to oppose them.\nWhatever be the influence of the Tracts, great or small, they may\nbecome just as powerful for Rome, if our Church refuses them, as they\nwould be for our Church if she accepted them. If our rulers speak\neither against the Tracts, or not at all, if any number of them, not\nonly do not favour, but even do not suffer the principles contained\nin them, it is plain that our members may easily be persuaded either\nto give up those principles, or to give up the Church. If this state\nof things goes on, I mournfully prophesy, not one or two, but many\nsecessions to the Church of Rome.\"\n\nTwo years afterwards, looking back on what had passed, I said, \"There\nwere no converts to Rome, till after the condemnation of No. 90.\"\n\n3. As if all this were not enough, there came the affair of the\nJerusalem Bishopric; and, with a brief mention of it, I shall\nconclude.\n\nI think I am right in saying that it had been long a desire with the\nPrussian Court to introduce Episcopacy into the Evangelical Religion,\nwhich was intended in that country to embrace both the Lutheran and\nCalvinistic bodies. I almost think I heard of the project, when I was\nat Rome in 1833, at the hotel of the Prussian Minister, M. Bunsen,\nwho was most hospitable and kind, as to other English visitors, so\nalso to my friends and myself. I suppose that the idea of Episcopacy,\nas the Prussian king understood it, was very different from that\ntaught in the Tractarian School; but still, I suppose also, that the\nchief authors of that school would have gladly seen such a measure\ncarried out in Prussia, had it been done without compromising those\nprinciples which were necessary to the being of a Church. About the\ntime of the publication of Tract 90, M. Bunsen and the then\nArchbishop of Canterbury were taking steps for its execution, by\nappointing and consecrating a Bishop for Jerusalem. Jerusalem, it\nwould seem, was considered a safe place for the experiment; it was\ntoo far from Prussia to awaken the susceptibilities of any party at\nhome; if the project failed, it failed without harm to any one; and,\nif it succeeded, it gave Protestantism a _status_ in the East, which\nin association with the Monophysite or Jacobite and the Nestorian\nbodies, formed a political instrument for England, parallel to that\nwhich Russia had in the Greek Church and France in the Latin.\n\nAccordingly, in July 1841, full of the Anglican difficulty on the\nquestion of Catholicity, I thus spoke of the Jerusalem scheme in an\nArticle in the _British Critic_: \"When our thoughts turn to the East,\ninstead of recollecting that there are Christian Churches there, we\nleave it to the Russians to take care of the Greeks, and the French\nto take care of the Romans, and we content ourselves with erecting a\nProtestant Church at Jerusalem, or with helping the Jews to rebuild\ntheir Temple there, or with becoming the august protectors of\nNestorians, Monophysites, and all the heretics we can hear of, or\nwith forming a league with the Mussulman against Greeks and Romans\ntogether.\"\n\nI do not pretend so long after the time to give a full or exact\naccount of this measure in detail. I will but say that in the Act of\nParliament, under date of October 5, 1841 (if the copy, from which I\nquote, contains the measure as it passed the Houses), provision is\nmade for the consecration of \"British subjects, or the subjects or\ncitizens of any foreign state, to be Bishops in any foreign country,\nwhether such foreign subjects or citizens be or be not subjects or\ncitizens of the country in which they are to act, and ... without\nrequiring such of them as may be subjects or citizens of any foreign\nkingdom or state to take the oaths of allegiance and supremacy, and\nthe oath of due obedience to the Archbishop for the time being\" ...\nalso \"that such Bishop or Bishops, so consecrated, may exercise,\nwithin such limits, as may from time to time be assigned for that\npurpose in such foreign countries by her Majesty, spiritual\njurisdiction over the ministers of British congregations of the\nUnited Church of England and Ireland, and over _such other\nProtestant_ Congregations, as may be desirous of placing themselves\nunder his or their authority.\"\n\nNow here, at the very time that the Anglican Bishops were directing\ntheir censure upon me for avowing an approach to the Catholic Church\nnot closer than I believed the Anglican formularies would allow, they\nwere on the other hand fraternising, by their act or by their\nsufferance, with Protestant bodies, and allowing them to put\nthemselves under an Anglican Bishop, without any renunciation of\ntheir errors or regard to the due reception of baptism and\nconfirmation; while there was great reason to suppose that the said\nBishop was intended to make converts from the orthodox Greeks, and\nthe schismatical Oriental bodies, by means of the influence of\nEngland. This was the third blow, which finally shattered my faith in\nthe Anglican Church. That Church was not only forbidding any sympathy\nor concurrence with the Church of Rome, but it actually was courting\nan intercommunion with Protestant Prussia and the heresy of the\nOrientals. The Anglican Church might have the apostolical succession,\nas had the Monophysites; but such acts as were in progress led me to\nthe gravest suspicion, not that it would soon cease to be a Church,\nbut that it had never been a Church all along.\n\nOn October 12th I thus wrote to a friend:--\"We have not a single\nAnglican in Jerusalem, so we are sending a Bishop to _make_ a\ncommunion, not to govern our own people. Next, the excuse is, that\nthere are converted Anglican Jews there who require a Bishop; I am\ntold there are not half-a-dozen. But for _them_ the Bishop is sent\nout, and for them he is a Bishop of the _circumcision_\" (I think he\nwas a converted Jew, who boasted of his Jewish descent), \"against the\nEpistle to the Galatians pretty nearly. Thirdly, for the sake of\nPrussia, he is to take under him all the foreign Protestants who will\ncome; and the political advantages will be so great, from the\ninfluence of England, that there is no doubt they will come. They are\nto sign the Confession of Augsburg, and there is nothing to show that\nthey hold the doctrine of Baptismal Regeneration.\n\n\"As to myself, I shall do nothing whatever publicly, unless indeed it\nwere to give my signature to a Protest; but I think it would be out\nof place in _me_ to agitate, having been in a way silenced; but the\nArchbishop is really doing most grave work, of which we cannot see\nthe end.\"\n\nI did make a solemn Protest, and sent it to the Archbishop of\nCanterbury, and also sent it to my own Bishop, with the following\nletter:--\n\n\"It seems as if I were never to write to your Lordship, without\ngiving you pain, and I know that my present subject does not\nspecially concern your Lordship; yet, after a great deal of anxious\nthought, I lay before you the enclosed Protest.\n\n\"Your Lordship will observe that I am not asking for any notice of\nit, unless you think that I ought to receive one. I do this very\nserious act, in obedience to my sense of duty.\n\n\"If the English Church is to enter on a new course, and assume a new\naspect, it will be more pleasant to me hereafter to think, that I did\nnot suffer so grievous an event to happen, without bearing witness\nagainst it.\n\n\"May I be allowed to say, that I augur nothing but evil, if we in any\nrespect prejudice our title to be a branch of the Apostolic Church?\nThat Article of the Creed, I need hardly observe to your Lordship, is\nof such constraining power, that, if _we_ will not claim it, and use\nit for ourselves, _others_ will use it in their own behalf against\nus. Men who learn, whether by means of documents or measures, whether\nfrom the statements or the acts of persons in authority, that our\ncommunion is not a branch of the one Church, I foresee with much\ngrief, will be tempted to look out for that Church elsewhere.\n\n\"It is to me a subject of great dismay, that, as far as the Church\nhas lately spoken out, on the subject of the opinions which I and\nothers hold, those opinions are, not merely not _sanctioned_ (for\nthat I do not ask), but not even _suffered_.\n\n\"I earnestly hope that your Lordship will excuse my freedom in thus\nspeaking to you of some members of your Most Rev. and Right Rev.\nBody. With every feeling of reverent attachment to your Lordship,\nI am, etc.\"\n\nPROTEST\n\n\"Whereas the Church of England has a claim on the allegiance of\nCatholic believers only on the ground of her own claim to be\nconsidered a branch of the Catholic Church:\n\n\"And whereas the recognition of heresy, indirect as well as direct,\ngoes far to destroy such claim in the case of any religious body\nadvancing it:\n\n\"And whereas to admit maintainers of heresy to communion, without\nformal renunciation of their errors, goes far towards recognising the\nsame:\n\n\"And whereas Lutheranism and Calvinism are heresies, repugnant to\nScripture, springing up three centuries since, and anathematised by\nEast as well as West:\n\n\"And whereas it is reported that the Most Reverend Primate and other\nRight Reverend Rulers of our Church have consecrated a Bishop with a\nview to exercising spiritual jurisdiction over Protestant, that is,\nLutheran and Calvinist congregations in the East (under the\nprovisions of an Act made in the last session of Parliament to amend\nan Act made in the 26th year of the reign of his Majesty King George\nthe Third, intituled, 'An Act to empower the Archbishop of\nCanterbury, or the Archbishop of York for the time being, to\nconsecrate to the office of Bishop persons being subjects or citizens\nof countries out of his Majesty's dominions'), dispensing at the\nsame time, not in particular cases and accidentally, but as if on\nprinciple and universally, with any abjuration of error on the part\nof such congregations, and with any reconciliation to the Church on\nthe part of the presiding Bishop; thereby giving some sort of formal\nrecognition to the doctrines which such congregations maintain:\n\n\"And whereas the dioceses in England are connected together by so\nclose an intercommunion, that what is done by authority in one,\nimmediately affects the rest:\n\n\"On these grounds, I in my place, being a priest of the English\nChurch and Vicar of St. Mary the Virgin's, Oxford, by way of\nrelieving my conscience, do hereby solemnly protest against the\nmeasure aforesaid, and disown it, as removing our Church from her\npresent ground and tending to her disorganisation.\n\n\"JOHN HENRY NEWMAN.\n\n\"November 11, 1841.\"\n\nLooking back two years afterwards on the above-mentioned and other\nacts, on the part of Anglican Ecclesiastical authorities, I observe:\n\"Many a man might have held an abstract theory about the Catholic\nChurch, to which it was difficult to adjust the Anglican--might have\nadmitted a suspicion, or even painful doubts about the latter--yet\nnever have been impelled onwards, had our Rulers preserved the\nquiescence of former years; but it is the corroboration of a present,\nliving, and energetic heterodoxy, which realises and makes them\npractical; it has been the recent speeches and acts of authorities,\nwho had so long been tolerant of Protestant error, which have given\nto inquiry and to theory its force and its edge.\"\n\nAs to the project of a Jerusalem Bishopric, I never heard of any good\nor harm it has ever done, except what it has done for me; which many\nthink a great misfortune, and I one of the greatest of mercies. It\nbrought me on to the beginning of the end.\n\n\n\n\nPart VI\n\nHistory of My Religious Opinions--1841-1845\n\n\nFrom the end of 1841, I was on my death-bed, as regards my membership\nwith the Anglican Church, though at the time I became aware of it\nonly by degrees. I introduce what I have to say with this remark, by\nway of accounting for the character of this remaining portion of my\nnarrative. A death-bed has scarcely a history; it is a tedious\ndecline, with seasons of rallying and seasons of falling back; and\nsince the end is foreseen, or what is called a matter of time, it has\nlittle interest for the reader, especially if he has a kind heart.\nMoreover, it is a season when doors are closed and curtains drawn,\nand when the sick man neither cares nor is able to record the stages\nof his malady. I was in these circumstances, except so far as I was\nnot allowed to die in peace,--except so far as friends, who had still\na full right to come in upon me, and the public world which had not,\nhave given a sort of history to those last four years. But in\nconsequence, my narrative must be in great measure documentary.\nLetters of mine to friends have come to me since their deaths; others\nhave been kindly lent me for the occasion; and I have some drafts of\nletters, and notes of my own, though I have no strictly personal or\ncontinuous memoranda to consult, and have unluckily mislaid some\nvaluable papers.\n\n\nAnd first as to my position in the view of duty; it was this:--1. I\nhad given up my place in the Movement in my letter to the Bishop of\nOxford in the spring of 1841; but 2. I could not give up my duties\ntowards the many and various minds who had more or less been brought\ninto it by me; 3. I expected or intended gradually to fall back into\nLay Communion; 4. I never contemplated leaving the Church of England;\n5. I could not hold office in her, if I were not allowed to hold the\nCatholic sense of the Articles; 6. I could not go to Rome, while she\nsuffered honours to be paid to the Blessed Virgin and the Saints\nwhich I thought incompatible with the Supreme, Incommunicable Glory\nof the One Infinite and Eternal; 7. I desired a union with Rome under\nconditions, Church with Church; 8. I called Littlemore my Torres\nVedras, and thought that some day we might advance again within the\nAnglican Church, as we had been forced to retire; 9. I kept back all\npersons who were disposed to go to Rome with all my might.\n\nAnd I kept them back for three or four reasons; 1, because what I\ncould not in conscience do myself, I could not suffer them to do; 2,\nbecause I thought that in various cases they were acting under\nexcitement; 3, while I held St. Mary's, because I had duties to my\nBishop and to the Anglican Church; and 4, in some cases, because I\nhad received from their Anglican parents or superiors direct charge\nof them.\n\nThis was my view of my duty from the end of 1841, to my resignation\nof St. Mary's in the autumn of 1843. And now I shall relate my view,\nduring that time, of the state of the controversy between the\nChurches.\n\nAs soon as I saw the hitch in the Anglican argument, during my course\nof reading in the summer of 1839, I began to look about, as I have\nsaid, for some ground which might supply a controversial basis for\nmy need. The difficulty in question had affected my view both of\nAntiquity and Catholicity; for, while the history of St. Leo showed\nme that the deliberate and eventual consent of the great body of the\nChurch ratified a doctrinal decision, it also showed that the rule of\nAntiquity was not infringed, though a doctrine had not been publicly\nrecognised as a portion of the dogmatic foundation of the Church,\ntill centuries after the time of the apostles. Thus, whereas the\nCreeds tell us that the Church is One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic,\nI could not prove that the Anglican communion was an integral part of\nthe One Church, on the ground of its being Apostolic or Catholic,\nwithout reasoning in favour of what are commonly called the Roman\ncorruptions; and I could not defend our separation from Rome without\nusing arguments prejudicial to those great doctrines concerning our\nLord, which are the very foundation of the Christian religion. The\n_Via Media_ was an impossible idea; it was what I had called\n\"standing on one leg;\" and it was necessary, if my old issue of the\ncontroversy was to be retained, to go further either one way or the\nother.\n\nAccordingly, I abandoned that old ground and took another. I\ndeliberately quitted the old Anglican ground as untenable; but I did\nnot do so all at once, but as I became more and more convinced of\nthe state of the case. The Jerusalem bishopric was the ultimate\ncondemnation of the old theory of the _Via Media_; from that time the\nAnglican Church was, in my mind, either not a normal portion of that\nOne Church to which the promises were made, or at least in an\nabnormal state, and from that time I said boldly, as I did in my\nProtest, and as indeed I had even intimated in my letter to the\nBishop of Oxford, that the Church in which I found myself had no\nclaim on me, except on condition of its being a portion of the One\nCatholic Communion, and that that condition must ever be borne in\nmind as a practical matter, and had to be distinctly proved. All\nthis was not inconsistent with my saying that, at this time, I had\nno thought of leaving that Church because I felt some of my old\nobjections against Rome as strongly as ever. I had no right, I had no\nleave, to act against my conscience. That was a higher rule than any\nargument about the notes of the Church.\n\nUnder these circumstances I turned for protection to the note of\nsanctity, with a view of showing that we had at least one of the\nnecessary notes, as fully as the Church of Rome; or, at least,\nwithout entering into comparisons, that we had it in such a\nsufficient sense as to reconcile us to our position, and to supply\nfull evidence, and a clear direction, on the point of practical duty.\nWe had the note of life,--not any sort of life, not such only as can\ncome of nature, but a supernatural Christian life, which could only\ncome directly from above. In my article in the _British Critic_, to\nwhich I have so often referred, in January, 1840 (before the time of\nTract 90), I said of the Anglican Church that \"she has the note of\npossession, the note of freedom from party titles, the note of\nlife,--a tough life and a vigorous; she has ancient descent, unbroken\ncontinuance, agreement in doctrine with the Ancient Church.\"\nPresently I go on to speak of sanctity: \"Much as Roman Catholics may\ndenounce us at present as schismatical, they could not resist us if\nthe Anglican communion had but that one note of the Church upon\nit,--sanctity. The Church of the day [fourth century] could not\nresist Meletius; his enemies were fairly overcome by him, by his\nmeekness and holiness, which melted the most jealous of them.\" And I\ncontinue, \"We are almost content to say to Romanists, account us not\nyet as a branch of the Catholic Church, though we be a branch, till\nwe are like a branch, provided that when we do become like a branch,\nthen you consent to acknowledge us,\" etc. And so I was led on in\nthe Article to that sharp attack on English Catholics for their\nshort-comings as regards this note, a good portion of which I have\nalready quoted in another place. It is there that I speak of\nthe great scandal which I took at their political, social, and\ncontroversial bearing; and this was a second reason why I fell back\nupon the note of sanctity, because it took me away from the necessity\nof making any attack upon the doctrines of the Roman Church, nay,\nfrom the consideration of her popular beliefs, and brought me upon\na ground on which I felt I could not make a mistake; for what is\na higher guide for us in speculation and in practice, than that\nconscience of right and wrong, of truth and falsehood, those\nsentiments of what is decorous, consistent, and noble, which our\nCreator has made a part of our original nature? Therefore I felt I\ncould not be wrong in attacking what I fancied was a fact,--the\nunscrupulousness, the deceit, and the intriguing spirit of the agents\nand representatives of Rome.\n\nThis reference to holiness as the true test of a Church was steadily\nkept in view in what I wrote in connection with Tract 90. I say in\nits Introduction, \"The writer can never be party to forcing the\nopinions or projects of one school upon another; religious changes\nshould be the act of the whole body. No good can come of a change\nwhich is not a development of feelings springing up freely and calmly\nwithin the bosom of the whole body itself; every change in religion\"\nmust be \"attended by deep repentance; changes\" must be \"nurtured in\nmutual love; we cannot agree without a supernatural influence;\"\nwe must come \"together to God to do for us what we cannot do for\nourselves.\" In my letter to the bishop I said, \"I have set myself\nagainst suggestions for considering the differences between ourselves\nand the foreign Churches with a view to their adjustment.\" (I meant\nin the way of negotiation, conference, agitation, or the like.) \"Our\nbusiness is with ourselves,--to make ourselves more holy, more\nself-denying, more primitive, more worthy of our high calling. To be\nanxious for a composition of differences is to begin at the end.\nPolitical reconciliations are but outward and hollow, and fallacious.\nAnd till Roman Catholics renounce political efforts, and manifest in\ntheir public measures the light of holiness and truth, perpetual war\nis our only prospect.\"\n\nAccording to this theory, a religious body is part of the One\nCatholic and Apostolic Church, if it has the succession and the creed\nof the apostles, with the note of holiness of life; and there is much\nin such a view to approve itself to the direct common sense and\npractical habits of an Englishman. However, with events consequent\nupon Tract 90, I sunk my theory to a lower level. What could be said\nin apology, when the bishops and the people of my Church, not only\ndid not suffer, but actually rejected primitive Catholic doctrine,\nand tried to eject from their communion all who held it? after the\nBishops' charges? after the Jerusalem \"abomination?\" Well, this could\nbe said; still we were not nothing: we could not be as if we never\nhad been a Church; we were \"Samaria.\" This then was that lower level\non which I placed myself, and all who felt with me, at the end of\n1841.\n\nTo bring out this view was the purpose of four sermons preached at\nSt. Mary's in December of that year. Hitherto I had not introduced\nthe exciting topics of the day into the pulpit; on this occasion\nI did. I did so, for the moment was urgent; there was great\nunsettlement of mind among us, in consequence of those same events\nwhich had unsettled me. One special anxiety, very obvious, which was\ncoming on me now, was, that what was \"one man's meat was another\nman's poison.\" I had said even of Tract 90, \"It was addressed to one\nset of persons, and has been used and commented on by another;\" still\nmore was it true now, that whatever I wrote for the service of those\nwhom I knew to be in trouble of mind, would become on the one hand\nmatter of suspicion and slander in the mouths of my opponents, and of\ndistress and surprise to those on the other hand, who had no\ndifficulties of faith at all. Accordingly, when I published\nthese four sermons at the end of 1843, I introduced them with a\nrecommendation that none should read them who did not need them.\nBut in truth the virtual condemnation of Tract 90, after that the\nwhole difficulty seemed to have been weathered, was an enormous\ndisappointment and trial. My Protest also against the Jerusalem\nBishopric was an unavoidable cause of excitement in the case of many;\nbut it calmed them too, for the very fact of a Protest was a relief\nto their impatience. And so, in like manner, as regards the four\nsermons, of which I speak, though they acknowledged freely the great\nscandal which was involved in the recent episcopal doings, yet at the\nsame time they might be said to bestow upon the multiplied disorders\nand shortcomings of the Anglican Church a sort of place in the\nRevealed Dispensation, and an intellectual position in the\ncontroversy, and the dignity of a great principle, for unsettled\nminds to take and use, which might teach them to recognise their own\nconsistency, and to be reconciled to themselves, and which might\nabsorb into itself and dry up a multitude of their grudgings,\ndiscontents, misgivings, and questionings, and lead the way to\nhumble, thankful, and tranquil thoughts;--and this was the effect\nwhich certainly it produced on myself.\n\nThe point of these sermons is, that, in spite of the rigid character\nof the Jewish law, the formal and literal force of its precepts, and\nthe manifest schism, and worse than schism, of the ten tribes, yet\nin fact they were still recognised as a people by the Divine Mercy;\nthat the great prophets Elias and Eliseus were sent to them, and not\nonly so, but sent to preach to them and reclaim them, without any\nintimation that they must be reconciled to the line of David and the\nAaronic priesthood, or go up to Jerusalem to worship. They were not\nin the Church, yet they had the means of grace and the hope of\nacceptance with their Maker. The application of all this to the\nAnglican Church was immediate;--whether a man could assume or\nexercise ministerial functions under the circumstances, or not, might\nnot clearly appear, though it must be remembered that England had the\napostolic priesthood, whereas Israel had no priesthood at all; but so\nfar was clear, that there was no call at all for an Anglican to leave\nhis Church for Rome, though he did not believe his own to be part of\nthe One Church:--and for this reason, because it was a fact that the\nkingdom of Israel was cut off from the Temple; and yet its subjects,\nneither in a mass, nor as individuals, neither the multitudes on\nMount Carmel, nor the Shunammite and her household, had any command\ngiven them, though miracles were displayed before them, to break off\nfrom their own people, and to submit themselves to Judah.[3]\n\nIt is plain that a theory such as this, whether the marks of a divine\npresence and life in the Anglican Church were sufficient to prove\nthat she was actually within the covenant, or only sufficient to\nprove that she was at least enjoying extraordinary and uncovenanted\nmercies, not only lowered her level in a religious point of view,\nbut weakened her controversial basis. Its very novelty made it\nsuspicious; and there was no guarantee that the process of subsidence\nmight not continue, and that it might not end in a submersion.\nIndeed, to many minds, to say that England was wrong was even to say\nthat Rome was right; and no ethical reasoning whatever could overcome\nin their case the argument from prescription and authority. To this\nobjection I could only answer that I did not make my circumstances. I\nfully acknowledged the force and effectiveness of the genuine\nAn glican theory, and that it was all but proof against the disputants\nof Rome; but still like Achilles, it had a vulnerable point, and that\nSt. Leo had found it out for me, and that I could not help it;--that,\nwere it not for matter of fact, the theory would be great indeed, it\nwould be irresistible, if it were only true. When I became a\nCatholic, the editor of a magazine who had in former days accused me,\nto my indignation, of tending towards Rome, wrote to me to ask, which\nof the two was now right, he or I? I answered him in a letter, part\nof which I here insert, as it will serve as a sort of leave-taking of\nthe great theory, which is so specious to look upon, so difficult to\nprove, and so hopeless to work.\n\n\"Nov. 8, 1845. I do not think, at all more than I did, that the\nAnglican principles which I advocated at the date you mention, lead\nmen to the Church of Rome. If I must specify what I mean by 'Anglican\nprinciples,' I should say, _e.g._ taking _Antiquity_, not the\n_existing Church_, as the oracle of truth; and holding that the\n_Apostolical Succession_ is a sufficient guarantee of Sacramental\nGrace, without _union with the Christian Church throughout the\nworld_. I think these still the firmest, strongest ground against\nRome--that is, _if they can be held_. They _have_ been held by many,\nand are far more difficult to refute in the Roman controversy, than\nthose of any other religious body.\n\n\"For myself, I found _I could not_ hold them. I left them. From the\ntime I began to suspect their unsoundness, I ceased to put them\nforward. When I was fairly sure of their unsoundness, I gave up my\nLiving. When I was fully confident that the Church of Rome was the\nonly true Church, I joined her.\n\n\"I have felt all along that Bp. Bull's theology was the only theology\non which the English Church could stand. I have felt, that opposition\nto the Church of Rome was _part_ of that theology; and that he who\ncould not protest against the Church of Rome was no true divine in\nthe English Church. I have never said, nor attempted to say, that any\none in office in the English Church, whether Bishop or incumbent,\ncould be otherwise than in hostility to the Church of Rome.\"\n\nThe _Via Media_ then disappeared for ever, and a new Theory, made\nexpressly for the occasion, took its place. I was pleased with my new\nview. I wrote to an intimate friend, Dec. 13, 1841, \"I think you will\ngive me the credit, Carissime, of not undervaluing the strength of\nthe feelings which draw one [to Rome], and yet I am (I trust) quite\nclear about my duty to remain where I am; indeed, much clearer than I\nwas some time since. If it is not presumptuous to say, I have ... a\nmuch more definite view of the promised inward Presence of Christ\nwith us in the Sacraments now that the outward notes of it are being\nremoved. And I am content to be with Moses in the desert, or with\nElijah excommunicated from the Temple. I say this, putting things at\nthe strongest.\"\n\nHowever, my friends of the moderate Apostolical party, who were my\nfriends for the very reason of my having been so moderate and\nAnglican myself in general tone in times past, who had stood up for\nTract 90 partly from faith in me, and certainly from generous and\nkind feeling, and had thereby shared an obloquy which was none of\ntheirs, were naturally surprised and offended at a line of argument,\nnovel, and, as it appeared to them, wanton, which threw the whole\ncontroversy into confusion, stultified my former principles, and\nsubstituted, as they would consider, a sort of methodistic\nself-contemplation, especially abhorrent both to my nature and to my\npast professions, for the plain and honest tokens, as they were\ncommonly received, of a divine mission in the Anglican Church. They\ncould not tell whither I was going; and were still further annoyed,\nwhen I would view the reception of Tract 90 by the public and the\nBishops as so grave a matter, and threw about what they considered\nmysterious hints of \"eventualities,\" and would not simply say, \"An\nAnglican I was born, and an Anglican I will die.\" One of my familiar\nfriends, who was in the country at Christmas, 1841-2, reported to me\nthe feeling that prevailed about me; and how I felt towards it will\nappear in the following letter of mine, written in answer:--\n\n\"Oriel, Dec. 24, 1841. Carissime, you cannot tell how sad your\naccount of Moberly has made me. His view of the sinfulness of the\ndecrees of Trent is as much against union of Churches as against\nindividual conversions. To tell the truth, I never have examined\nthose decrees with this object, and have no view; but that is very\ndifferent from having a deliberate view against them. Could not he\nsay _which_ they are? I suppose Transubstantiation is one. A. B.,\nthough of course he would not like to have it repeated, does not\nscruple at that. I have not my mind clear. Moberly must recollect\nthat Palmer thinks they all bear a Catholic interpretation. For\nmyself, this only I see, that there is indefinitely more in the\nFathers against our own state of alienation from Christendom than\nagainst the Tridentine Decrees.\n\n\"The only thing I can think of [that I can have said] is this, that\nthere were persons who, if our Church committed herself to heresy,\n_sooner_ than think that there was no Church anywhere, would believe\nthe Roman to be the Church; and therefore would on faith accept what\nthey could not otherwise acquiesce in. I suppose, it would be no\nrelief to him to insist upon the circumstance that there is no\nimmediate danger. Individuals can never be answered for of course;\nbut I should think lightly of that man, who, for some act of the\nBishops, should all at once leave the Church. Now, considering how\nthe Clergy really are improving, considering that this row is even\nmaking them read the Tracts, is it not possible we may all be in a\nbetter state of mind seven years hence to consider these matters? and\nmay we not leave them meanwhile to the will of Providence? I _cannot_\nbelieve this work has been of man; God has a right to His own work,\nto do what He will with it. May we not try to leave it in His hands,\nand be content?\n\n\"If you learn anything about Barter, which leads you to think that I\ncan relieve him by a letter, let me know. The truth is this--our good\nfriends do not read the Fathers; they assent to us from the common\nsense of the case: then, when the Fathers, and we, say _more_ than\ntheir common sense, they are dreadfully shocked.\n\n\"The Bishop of London has rejected a man, 1. For holding _any_\nSacrifice in the Eucharist. 2. The Real Presence. 3. That there is a\ngrace in Ordination.[4]\n\n\"Are we quite sure that the Bishops will not be drawing up some\nstringent declarations of faith? is this what Moberly fears? Would\nthe Bishop of Oxford accept them? If so, I should be driven into the\nRefuge for the Destitute [Littlemore]. But I promise Moberly, I would\ndo my utmost to catch all dangerous persons and clap them into\nconfinement there.\"\n\nChristmas Day, 1841. \"I have been dreaming of Moberly all night.\nShould not he and the like see, that it is unwise, unfair, and\nimpatient to ask others, What will you do under circumstances, which\nhave not, which may never come? Why bring fear, suspicion, and\ndisunion into the camp about things which are merely _in posse_?\nNatural, and exceedingly kind as Barter's and another friend's\nletters were, I think they have done great harm. I speak most\nsincerely when I say, that there are things which I neither\ncontemplate, nor wish to contemplate; but, when I am asked about them\nten times, at length I begin to contemplate them.\n\n\"He surely does not mean to say, that _nothing_ could separate a man\nfrom the English Church, _e.g._ its avowing Socinianism; its holding\nthe Holy Eucharist in a Socinian sense. Yet, he would say, it was not\n_right_ to contemplate such things.\n\n\"Again, our case is [diverging] from that of Ken's. To say nothing of\nthe last miserable century, which has given us to _start_ from a much\nlower level and with much less to _spare_ than a Churchman in the\n17th century, questions of _doctrine_ are now coming in; with him, it\nwas a question of discipline.\n\n\"If such dreadful events were realised, I cannot help thinking we\nshould all be vastly more agreed than we think now. Indeed, is it\npossible (humanly speaking) that those, who have so much the same\nheart, should widely differ? But let this be considered, as to\nalternatives. _What_ communion could we join? Could the Scotch or\nAmerican sanction the presence of its Bishops and congregations in\nEngland, without incurring the imputation of schism, unless indeed\n(and is that likely?) they denounced the English as heretical?\n\n\"Is not this a time of strange providences? is it not our safest\ncourse, without looking to consequences, to do simply _what we think\nright_ day by day? shall we not be sure to go wrong, if we attempt to\ntrace by anticipation the course of divine Providence?\n\n\"Has not all our misery, as a Church, arisen from people being afraid\nto look difficulties in the face? They have palliated acts, when they\nshould have denounced them. There is that good fellow, Worcester\nPalmer, can whitewash the Ecclesiastical Commission and the Jerusalem\nBishopric. And what is the consequence? that our Church has, through\ncenturies, ever been sinking lower and lower, till good part of its\npretensions and professions is a mere sham, though it be a duty to\nmake the best of what we have received. Yet, though bound to make the\nbest of other men's shams, let us not incur any of our own. The\ntruest friends of our Church are they, who say boldly when her\nrulers are going wrong, and the consequences; and (to speak\ncatachrestically) _they_ are most likely to die in the Church, who\nare, under these black circumstances, most prepared to leave it.\n\n\"And I will add, that, considering the traces of God's grace which\nsurround us, I am very sanguine, or rather confident (if it is right\nso to speak), that our prayers and our alms will come up as a\nmemorial before God, and that all this miserable confusion tends to\ngood.\n\n\"Let us not then be anxious, and anticipate differences in prospect,\nwhen we agree in the present.\n\n\"P.S. I think, when friends [_i.e._ the extreme party] get over their\nfirst unsettlement of mind and consequent vague apprehensions, which\nthe new attitude of the Bishops, and our feelings upon it, have\nbrought about, they will get contented and satisfied. They will see\nthat they exaggerated things.... Of course it would have been wrong\nto anticipate what one's feelings would be under such a painful\ncontingency as the Bishops' charging as they have done--so it seems\nto me nobody's fault. Nor is it wonderful that others\" [moderate men]\n\"are startled\" [_i.e._ at my Protest, etc. etc.]; \"yet they should\nrecollect that the more implicit the reverence one pays to a Bishop,\nthe more keen will be one's perception of heresy in him. The cord is\nbinding and compelling, till it snaps.\n\n\"Men of reflection would have seen this, if they had looked that way.\nLast spring, a very high churchman talked to me of resisting my\nBishop, of asking him for the Canons under which he acted, and so\nforth; but those, who have cultivated a loyal feeling towards their\nsuperiors, are the most loving servants, or the most zealous\nprotestors. If others became so too, if the clergy of Chester\ndenounced the heresy of their diocesan, they would be doing their\nduty, and relieving themselves of the share which they otherwise have\nin any possible defection of their brethren.\"\n\n\"St. Stephen's [December 26]. How I fidget! I now fear that the note\nI wrote yesterday only makes matters worse by _disclosing_ too much.\nThis is always my great difficulty.\n\n\"In the present state of excitement on both sides, I think of leaving\nout altogether my reassertion of No. 90 in my Preface to Volume 6,\nand merely saying, 'As many false reports are at this time in\ncirculation about him, he hopes his well-wishers will take this\nVolume as an indication of his real thoughts and feelings: those who\nare not, he leaves in God's hand to bring them to a better mind in\nHis own time.' What do you say to the logic, sentiment, and propriety\nof this?\"\n\nThere was one very old friend, at a distance from Oxford, afterwards\na Catholic, now dead some years, who must have said something to me,\nI do not know what, which challenged a frank reply; for I disclosed\nto him, I do not know in what words, my frightful suspicion, hitherto\nonly known to two persons, as regards my Anglicanism, perhaps I might\nbreak down in the event, that perhaps we were both out of the Church.\nHe answered me thus, under date of Jan. 29, 1842: \"I don't think that\nI ever was so shocked by any communication, which was ever made to\nme, as by your letter of this morning. It has quite unnerved me.... I\ncannot but write to you, though I am at a loss where to begin ... I\nknow of no act by which we have dissevered ourselves from the\ncommunion of the Church Universal.... The more I study Scripture, the\nmore am I impressed with the resemblance between the Romish principle\nin the Church and the Babylon of St. John.... I am ready to grieve\nthat I ever directed my thoughts to theology, if it is indeed so\nuncertain, as your doubts seem to indicate.\"\n\nWhile my old and true friends were thus in trouble about me, I\nsuppose they felt not only anxiety but pain, to see that I was\ngradually surrendering myself to the influence of others, who had not\ntheir own claims upon me, younger men, and of a cast of mind\nuncongenial to my own. A new school of thought was rising, as is\nusual in such movements, and was sweeping the original party of the\nmovement aside, and was taking its place. The most prominent person\nin it, was a man of elegant genius, of classical mind, of rare talent\nin literary composition:--Mr. Oakeley. He was not far from my own\nage; I had long known him, though of late years he had not been in\nresidence at Oxford; and quite lately, he has been taking several\nsignal occasions of renewing that kindness, which he ever showed\ntowards me when we were both in the Anglican Church. His tone of mind\nwas not unlike that which gave a character to the early movement; he\nwas almost a typical Oxford man, and, as far as I recollect, both in\npolitical and ecclesiastical views, would have been of one spirit\nwith the Oriel party of 1826-1833. But he had entered late into the\nMovement; he did not know its first years; and, beginning with a new\nstart, he was naturally thrown together with that body of eager,\nacute, resolute minds who had begun their Catholic life about the\nsame time as he, who knew nothing about the _Via Media_, but had\nheard much about Rome. This new party rapidly formed and increased,\nin and out of Oxford, and, as it so happened, contemporaneously with\nthat very summer, when I received so serious a blow to my\necclesiastical views from the study of the Monophysite controversy.\nThese men cut into the original Movement at an angle, fell across its\nline of thought, and then set about turning that line in its own\ndirection. They were most of them keenly religious men, with a true\nconcern for their souls as the first matter of all, with a great zeal\nfor me, but giving little certainty at the time as to which way they\nwould ultimately turn. Some in the event have remained firm to\nAnglicanism, some have become Catholics, and some have found a refuge\nin Liberalism. Nothing was clearer concerning them, than that they\nneeded to be kept in order; and on me who had had so much to do with\nthe making of them, that duty was as clearly incumbent; and it is\nequally clear, from what I have already said, that I was just the\nperson, above all others, who could not undertake it. There are no\nfriends like old friends; but of those old friends, few could help\nme, few could understand me, many were annoyed with me, some were\nangry, because I was breaking up a compact party, and some, as a\nmatter of conscience, could not listen to me. I said, bitterly, \"You\nare throwing me on others, whether I will or no.\" Yet still I had\ngood and true friends around me of the old sort, in and out of Oxford\ntoo. But on the other hand, though I neither was so fond of the\npersons, nor of the methods of thought, which belonged to this new\nschool, excepting two or three men, as of the old set, though I could\nnot trust in their firmness of purpose, for, like a swarm of flies,\nthey might come and go, and at length be divided and dissipated, yet\nI had an intense sympathy in their object and in the direction of\ntheir path, in spite of my old friends, in spite of my old life-long\nprejudices. In spite of my ingrained fears of Rome, and the decision\nof my reason and conscience against her usages, in spite of my\naffection for Oxford and Oriel, yet I had a secret longing love of\nRome the author of English Christianity, and I had a true devotion to\nthe Blessed Virgin, in whose College I lived, whose altar I served,\nand whose immaculate purity I had in one of my earliest printed\nSermons made much of. And it was the consciousness of this bias in\nmyself, if it is so to be called, which made me preach so earnestly\nagainst the danger of being swayed by our sympathy rather than our\nreason in religious inquiry. And moreover, the members of this new\nschool looked up to me, as I have said, and did me true kindnesses,\nand really loved me, and stood by me in trouble, when others went\naway, and for all this I was grateful; nay, many of them were in\ntrouble themselves, and in the same boat with me, and that was a\nfurther cause of sympathy between us; and hence it was, when the new\nschool came on in force, and into collision with the old, I had not\nthe heart, any more than the power, to repel them; I was in great\nperplexity, and hardly knew where I stood; I took their part: and,\nwhen I wanted to be in peace and silence, I had to speak out, and I\nincurred the charge of weakness from some men, and of mysteriousness,\nshuffling, and underhand dealing from the majority.\n\nNow I will say here frankly, that this sort of charge is a matter\nwhich I cannot properly meet, because I cannot duly realise it. I\nhave never had any suspicion of my own honesty; and, when men say\nthat I was dishonest, I cannot grasp the accusation as a distinct\nconception, such as it is possible to encounter. If a man said to me,\n\"On such a day and before such persons you said a thing was white,\nwhen it was black,\" I understand what is meant well enough, and I can\nset myself to prove an alibi or to explain the mistake; or if a man\nsaid to me, \"You tried to gain me over to your party, intending to\ntake me with you to Rome, but you did not succeed,\" I can give him\nthe lie, and lay down an assertion of my own as firm and as exact as\nhis, that not from the time that I was first unsettled, did I ever\nattempt to gain any one over to myself or to my Romanizing opinions,\nand that it is only his own coxcombical fancy which has bred such a\nthought in him: but my imagination is at a loss in presence of those\nvague charges, which have commonly been brought against me, charges,\nwhich are made up of impressions, and understandings, and inferences,\nand hearsay, and surmises. Accordingly, I shall not make the attempt,\nfor, in doing so, I should be dealing blows in the air; what I shall\nattempt is to state what I know of myself and what I recollect, and\nleave its application to others.\n\nWhile I had confidence in the _Via Media_, and thought that nothing\ncould overset it, I did not mind laying down large principles, which\nI saw would go further than was commonly perceived. I considered that\nto make the _Via Media_ concrete and substantive, it must be much\nmore than it was in outline; that the Anglican Church must have a\nceremonial, a ritual, and a fulness of doctrine and devotion, which\nit had not at present, if it were to compete with the Roman Church\nwith any prospect of success. Such additions would not remove it from\nits proper basis, but would merely strengthen and beautify it: such,\nfor instance, would be confraternities, particular devotions,\nreverence for the Blessed Virgin, prayers for the dead, beautiful\nchurches, rich offerings to them and in them, monastic houses, and\nmany other observances and institutions, which I used to say belonged\nto us as much as to Rome, though Rome had appropriated them, and\nboasted of them, by reason of our having let them slip from us. The\nprinciple, on which all this turned, is brought out in one of the\nletters I published on occasion of Tract 90. \"The age is moving,\"\nI said, \"towards something; and most unhappily the one religious\ncommunion among us, which has of late years been practically in\npossession of this something, is the Church of Rome. She alone, amid\nall the errors and evils of her practical system, has given free\nscope to the feelings of awe, mystery, tenderness, reverence,\ndevotedness, and other feelings which may be especially called\nCatholic. The question then is, whether we shall give them up to the\nRoman Church or claim them for ourselves.... But if we do give them\nup, we must give up the men who cherish them. We must consent either\nto give up the men, or to admit their principles.\" With these\nfeelings I frankly admit, that, while I was working simply for the\nsake of the Anglican Church, I did not at all mind, though I found\nmyself laying down principles in its defence, which went beyond that\nparticular defence which high-and-dry men thought perfection, and\nthough I ended in framing a sort of defence, which they might call a\nrevolution, while I thought it a restoration. Thus, for illustration,\nI might discourse upon the \"Communion of Saints\" in such a manner,\n(though I do not recollect doing so) as might lead the way towards\ndevotion to the Blessed Virgin and the saints on the one hand, and\ntowards prayers for the dead on the other. In a memorandum of the\nyear 1844 or 1845, I thus speak on this subject: \"If the Church be\nnot defended on establishment grounds, it must be upon principles,\nwhich go far beyond their immediate object. Sometimes I saw these\nfurther results, sometimes not. Though I saw them, I sometimes did\nnot say that I saw them; so long as I thought they were inconsistent,\n_not_ with our Church, but only with the existing opinions, I was not\nunwilling to insinuate truths into our Church, which I thought had a\nright to be there.\"\n\nTo so much I confess; but I do not confess, I simply deny that I ever\nsaid anything which secretly bore against the Church of England,\nknowing it myself, in order that others might unwarily accept it. It\nwas indeed one of my great difficulties and causes of reserve, as\ntime went on, that I at length recognised in principles which I had\nhonestly preached as if Anglican, conclusions favourable to the Roman\nChurch. Of course I did not like to confess this; and, when\ninterrogated, was in consequence in perplexity. The prime instance of\nthis was the appeal to Antiquity; St. Leo had overset, in my own\njudgment, its force in the special argument for Anglicanism; yet I\nwas committed to Antiquity, together with the whole Anglican school;\nwhat then was I to say, when acute minds urged this or that\napplication of it against the _Via Media_? it was impossible that, in\nsuch circumstances, any answer could be given which was not\nunsatisfactory, or any behaviour adopted which was not mysterious.\nAgain, sometimes in what I wrote I went just as far as I saw, and\ncould as little say more, as I could see what is below the horizon;\nand therefore, when asked as to the consequences of what I had said,\nhad no answer to give. Again, sometimes when I was asked, whether\ncertain conclusions did not follow from a certain principle, I might\nnot be able to tell at the moment, especially if the matter were\ncomplicated; and for this reason, if for no other, because there\nis great difference between a conclusion in the abstract and a\nconclusion in the concrete, and because a conclusion may be modified\nin fact by a conclusion from some opposite principle. Or it might\nso happen that I got simply confused, by the very clearness of the\nlogic which was administered to me, and thus gave my sanction to\nconclusions which really were not mine; and when the report of those\nconclusions came round to me through others, I had to unsay them. And\nthen again, perhaps I did not like to see men scared or scandalised\nby unfeeling logical inferences, which would not have touched them to\nthe day of their death, had they not been made to eat them. And then\nI felt altogether the force of the maxim of St. Ambrose, \"Non in\ndialectica complacuit Deo salvum facere populum suum;\"--I had a great\ndislike of paper logic. For myself, it was not logic that carried me\non; as well might one say that the quicksilver in the barometer\nchanges the weather. It is the concrete being that reasons; pass a\nnumber of years, and I find my mind in a new place; how? the whole\nman moves; paper logic is but the record of it. All the logic in the\nworld would not have made me move faster towards Rome than I did; as\nwell might you say that I have arrived at the end of my journey,\nbecause I see the village church before me, as venture to assert that\nthe miles, over which my soul had to pass before it got to Rome,\ncould be annihilated, even though I had had some far clearer view\nthan I then had, that Rome was my ultimate destination. Great acts\ntake time. At least this is what I felt in my own case; and therefore\nto come to me with methods of logic, had in it the nature of a\nprovocation, and, though I do not think I ever showed it, made me\nsomewhat indifferent how I met them, and perhaps led me, as a means\nof relieving my impatience, to be mysterious or irrelevant, or to\ngive in because I could not reply. And a greater trouble still than\nthese logical mazes, was the introduction of logic into every subject\nwhatever, so far, that is, as it was done. Before I was at Oriel, I\nrecollect an acquaintance saying to me that \"the Oriel Common Room\nstank of Logic.\" One is not at all pleased when poetry, or eloquence,\nor devotion, is considered as if chiefly intended to feed syllogisms.\nNow, in saying all this, I am saying nothing against the deep piety\nand earnestness which were characteristics of this second phase of\nthe Movement, in which I have taken so prominent a part. What I have\nbeen observing is, that this phase had a tendency to bewilder and to\nupset me, and, that instead of saying so, as I ought to have done, in\na sort of easiness, for what I know, I gave answers at random, which\nhave led to my appearing close or inconsistent.\n\nI have turned up two letters of this period, which in a measure\nillustrate what I have been saying. The first is what I said to the\nBishop of Oxford on occasion of Tract 90:\n\n\"March 20, 1841. No one can enter into my situation but myself. I see\na great many minds working in various directions and a variety of\nprinciples with multiplied bearings; I act for the best. I sincerely\nthink that matters would not have gone better for the Church, had I\nnever written. And if I write I have a choice of difficulties. It is\neasy for those who do not enter into those difficulties to say, 'He\nought to say this and not say that,' but things are wonderfully\nlinked together, and I cannot, or rather I would not be dishonest.\nWhen persons too interrogate me, I am obliged in many cases to give\nan opinion, or I seem to be underhand. Keeping silence looks like\nartifice. And I do not like people to consult or respect me, from\nthinking differently of my opinions from what I know them to be. And\nagain (to use the proverb) what is one man's food is another man's\npoison. All these things make my situation very difficult. But that\ncollision must at some time ensue between members of the Church of\nopposite sentiments, I have long been aware. The time and mode has\nbeen in the hand of Providence; I do not mean to exclude my own great\nimperfections in bringing it about; yet I still feel obliged to think\nthe Tract necessary.\n\n\"Dr. Pusey has shown me your Lordship's letters to him. I am most\ndesirous of saying in print anything which I can honestly say to\nremove false impressions created by the Tract.\"\n\nThe second is part of the notes of a letter sent to Dr. Pusey in the\nnext year:\n\n\"October 16, 1842. As to my being entirely with A. B., I do not know\nthe limits of my own opinions. If A. B. says that this or that is a\ndevelopment from what I have said, I cannot say Yes or No. It is\nplausible, it _may_ be true. Of course the fact that the Roman Church\n_has_ so developed and maintained, adds great weight to the\nantecedent plausibility. I cannot assert that it is not true; but I\ncannot, with that keen perception which some people have, appropriate\nit. It is a nuisance to me to be _forced_ beyond what I can fairly\naccept.\"\n\nThere was another source of the perplexity with which at this time I\nwas encompassed, and of the reserve and mysteriousness, of which it\ngave me the credit. After Tract 90 the Protestant world would not let\nme alone; they pursued me in the public journals to Littlemore.\nReports of all kinds were circulated about me. \"Imprimis, why did I\ngo up to Littlemore at all? For no good purpose certainly; I dared\nnot tell why.\" Why, to be sure, it was hard that I should be obliged\nto say to the Editors of newspapers that I went up there to say my\nprayers; it was hard to have to tell the world in confidence, that I\nhad a certain doubt about the Anglican system, and could not at that\nmoment resolve it, or say what would come of it; it was hard to have\nto confess that I had thought of giving up my living a year or two\nbefore, and that this was a first step to it. It was hard to have\nto plead, that, for what I knew, my doubts would vanish, if the\nnewspapers would be so good as to give me time and let me alone.\nWho would ever dream of making the world his confidant? yet I was\nconsidered insidious, sly, dishonest, if I would not open my heart\nto the tender mercies of the world. But they persisted: \"What was I\ndoing at Littlemore?\" Doing there? have I not retreated from you?\nhave I not given up my position and my place? am I alone, of\nEnglishmen, not to have the privilege to go where I will, no\nquestions asked? am I alone to be followed about by jealous prying\neyes, who note down whether I go in at a back door or at the front,\nand who the men are who happen to call on me in the afternoon?\nCowards! if I advanced one step, you would run away; it is not you\nthat I fear: \"Di me terrent, et Jupiter hostis.\" It is because the\nBishops still go on charging against me, though I have quite given\nup: it is that secret misgiving of heart which tells me that they do\nwell, for I have neither lot nor part with them: this it is which\nweighs me down. I cannot walk into or out of my house, but curious\neyes are upon me. Why will you not let me die in peace? Wounded\nbrutes creep into some hole to die in, and no one grudges it them.\nLet me alone, I shall not trouble you long. This was the keen heavy\nfeeling which pierced me, and, I think, these are the very words that\nI used to myself. I asked, in the words of a great motto, \"Ubi\nlapsus? quid feci?\" One day when I entered my house, I found a flight\nof undergraduates inside. Heads of houses, as mounted patrols, walked\ntheir horses round those poor cottages. Doctors of divinity dived\ninto the hidden recesses of that private tenement uninvited, and drew\ndomestic conclusions from what they saw there. I had thought that an\nEnglishman's house was his castle; but the newspapers thought\notherwise, and at last the matter came before my good Bishop. I\ninsert his letter, and a portion of my reply to him:--\n\n\"April 12, 1842. So many of the charges against yourself and your\nfriends which I have seen in the public journals have been, within my\nown knowledge, false and calumnious, that I am not apt to pay much\nattention to what is asserted with respect to you in the newspapers.\n\n\"In a\" [newspaper], \"however, of April 9, there appears a paragraph\nin which it is asserted, as a matter of notoriety, that a 'so-called\nAnglo-Catholic Monastery is in process of erection at Littlemore, and\nthat the cells of dormitories, the chapel, the refectory, the\ncloisters all may be seen advancing to perfection, under the eye of a\nParish Priest of the Diocese of Oxford.'\n\n\"Now, as I have understood that you really are possessed of some\ntenements at Littlemore--as it is generally believed that they are\ndestined for the purposes of study and devotion--and as much\nsuspicion and jealousy are felt about the matter, I am anxious to\nafford you an opportunity of making me an explanation on the subject.\n\n\"I know you too well not to be aware that you are the last man living\nto attempt in my Diocese a revival of the Monastic orders (in\nanything approaching to the Romanist sense of the term) without\nprevious communication with me--or indeed that you should take upon\nyourself to originate any measure of importance without authority\nfrom the heads of the Church--and therefore I at once exonerate you\nfrom the accusation brought against you by the newspaper I have\nquoted, but I feel it nevertheless a duty to my Diocese and myself,\nas well as to you, to ask you to put it in my power to contradict\nwhat, if uncontradicted, would appear to imply a glaring invasion of\nall ecclesiastical discipline on _your_ part, or of inexcusable\nneglect and indifference to my duties on _mine_.\"\n\n\n\"April 14, 1842. I am very much obliged by your Lordship's kindness\nin allowing me to write to you on the subject of my house at\nLittlemore; at the same time I feel it hard both on your Lordship and\nmyself that the restlessness of the public mind should oblige you to\nrequire an explanation of me.\n\n\"It is now a whole year that I have been the subject of incessant\nmisrepresentation. A year since I submitted entirely to your\nLordship's authority; and with the intention of following out the\nparticular act enjoined upon me, I not only stopped the series of\nTracts, on which I was engaged, but withdrew from all public\ndiscussion of Church matters of the day, or what may be called\necclesiastical politics. I turned myself at once to the preparation\nfor the Press of the translations of St. Athanasius to which I had\nlong wished to devote myself, and I intended and intend to employ\nmyself in the like theological studies, and in the concerns of my own\nparish and in practical works.\n\n\"With the same view of personal improvement I was led more seriously\nto a design which had been long on my mind. For many years, at least\nthirteen, I have wished to give myself to a life of greater religious\nregularity than I have hitherto led; but it is very unpleasant to\nconfess such a wish even to my Bishop, because it seems arrogant, and\nbecause it is committing me to a profession which may come to\nnothing. For what have I done that I am to be called to account by\nthe world for my private actions, in a way in which no one else is\ncalled? Why may I not have that liberty which all others are allowed?\nI am often accused of being underhand and uncandid in respect to the\nintentions to which I have been alluding: but no one likes his own\ngood resolutions noised about, both from mere common delicacy and\nfrom fear lest he should not be able to fulfil them. I feel it very\ncruel, though the parties in fault do not know what they are doing,\nthat very sacred matters between me and my conscience are made a\nmatter of public talk. May I take a case parallel though different?\nsuppose a person in prospect of marriage; would he like the subject\ndiscussed in newspapers, and parties, circumstances, etc., etc.,\npublicly demanded of him, at the penalty of being accused of craft\nand duplicity?\n\n\"The resolution I speak of has been taken with reference to myself\nalone, and has been contemplated quite independent of the\nco-operation of any other human being, and without reference to\nsuccess or failure other than personal, and without regard to the\nblame or approbation of man. And being a resolution of years, and one\nto which I feel God has called me, and in which I am violating no\nrule of the Church any more than if I married, I should have to\nanswer for it, if I did not pursue it, as a good Providence made\nopenings for it. In pursuing it then I am thinking of myself alone,\nnot aiming at any ecclesiastical or external effects. At the same\ntime of course it would be a great comfort to me to know that God had\nput it into the hearts of others to pursue their personal edification\nin the same way, and unnatural not to wish to have the benefit of\ntheir presence and encouragement, or not to think it a great\ninfringement on the rights of conscience if such personal and private\nresolutions were interfered with. Your Lordship will allow me to add\nmy firm conviction that such religious resolutions are most necessary\nfor keeping a certain class of minds firm in their allegiance to our\nChurch; but still I can as truly say that my own reason for anything\nI have done has been a personal one, without which I should not have\nentered upon it, and which I hope to pursue whether with or without\nthe sympathies of others pursuing a similar course.\" ...\n\n\"As to my intentions, I purpose to live there myself a good deal, as\nI have a resident curate in Oxford. In doing this, I believe I am\nconsulting for the good of my parish, as my population at Littlemore\nis at least equal to that of St. Mary's in Oxford, and the _whole_ of\nLittlemore is double of it. It has been very much neglected; and in\nproviding a parsonage-house at Littlemore, as this will be, and will\nbe called, I conceive I am doing a very great benefit to my people.\nAt the same time it has appeared to me that a partial or temporary\nretirement from St. Mary's Church might be expedient under the\nprevailing excitement.\n\n\"As to the quotation from the [newspaper] which I have not seen, your\nLordship will perceive from what I have said, that no 'monastery is\nin process of erection;' there is no 'chapel;' no 'refectory,' hardly\na dining-room or parlour. The 'cloisters' are my shed connecting the\ncottages. I do not understand what 'cells of dormitories' means. Of\ncourse I can repeat your Lordship's words that 'I am not attempting\na revival of the Monastic Orders, in anything approaching to the\nRomanist sense of the term,' or 'taking on myself to originate any\nmeasure of importance without authority from the Heads of the\nChurch.' I am attempting nothing ecclesiastical, but something\npersonal and private, and which can only be made public, not private,\nby newspapers and letter-writers, in which sense the most sacred and\nconscientious resolves and acts may certainly be made the objects of\nan unmannerly and unfeeling curiosity.\"\n\nOne calumny there was which the bishop did not believe, and of which\nof course he had no idea of speaking. It was that I was actually in\nthe service of the enemy. I had been already received into the\nCatholic Church, and was rearing at Littlemore a nest of Papists,\nwho, like me, were to take the Anglican oaths which they did not\nbelieve, and for which they got dispensation from Rome, and thus in\ndue time were to bring over to that unprincipled Church great numbers\nof the Anglican clergy and laity. Bishops gave their countenance to\nthis imputation against me. The case was simply this:--as I made\nLittlemore a place of retirement for myself, so did I offer it to\nothers. There were young men in Oxford, whose testimonials for Orders\nhad been refused by their Colleges; there were young clergymen, who\nhad found themselves unable from conscience to go on with their\nduties, and had thrown up their parochial engagements. Such men were\nalready going straight to Rome, and I interposed; I interposed for\nthe reasons I have given in the beginning of this portion of my\nnarrative. I interposed from fidelity to my clerical engagements, and\nfrom duty to my Bishop; and from the interest which I was bound to\ntake in them, and from belief that they were premature or excited.\nTheir friends besought me to quiet them, if I could. Some of them\ncame to live with me at Littlemore. They were laymen, or in the place\nof laymen. I kept some of them back for several years from being\nreceived into the Catholic Church. Even when I had given up my\nliving, I was still bound by my duty to their parents or friends, and\nI did not forget still to do what I could for them. The immediate\noccasion of my resigning St. Mary's, was the unexpected conversion of\none of them. After that, I felt it was impossible to keep my post\nthere, for I had been unable to keep my word with my Bishop.\n\nThe following letters refer, more or less, to these men, whether they\nwere with me at Littlemore or not:--\n\n1. 1843 or 1844. \"I did not explain to you sufficiently the state of\nmind of those who were in danger. I only spoke of those who were\nconvinced that our Church was external to the Church Catholic, though\nthey felt it unsafe to trust their own private convictions; but\nthere are two other states of mind; 1, that of those who are\nunconsciously near Rome, and whose _despair_ about our Church would\nat once develop into a state of conscious approximation, or a\n_quasi_-resolution to go over; 2, those who feel they can with a safe\nconscience remain with us _while_ they are allowed to _testify_ in\nbehalf of Catholicism, _i.e._ as if by such acts they were putting\nour Church, or at least that portion of it in which they were\nincluded, in the position of catechumens.\"\n\n2. \"July 16, 1843. I assure you that I feel, with only too much\nsympathy, what you say. You need not be told that the whole subject\nof our position is a subject of anxiety to others beside yourself. It\nis no good attempting to offer advice, when perhaps I might raise\ndifficulties instead of removing them. It seems to me quite a case,\nin which you should, as far as may be, make up your mind for\nyourself. Come to Littlemore by all means. We shall all rejoice in\nyour company; and, if quiet and retirement are able, as they very\nlikely will be, to reconcile you to things as they are, you shall\nhave your fill of them. How distressed poor Henry Wilberforce must\nbe! Knowing how he values you, I feel for him; but, alas! he has his\nown position, and every one else has his own, and the misery is that\nno two of us have exactly the same.\n\n\"It is very kind of you to be so frank and open with me, as you are;\nbut this is a time which throws together persons who feel alike. May\nI without taking a liberty sign myself, yours affectionately, etc.\"\n\n3. \"1845. I am concerned to find you speak of me in a tone of\ndistrust. If you knew me ever so little, instead of hearing of me\nfrom persons who do not know me at all, you would think differently\nof me, whatever you thought of my opinions. Two years since, I got\nyour son to tell you my intention of resigning St. Mary's, before I\nmade it public, thinking you ought to know it. When you expressed\nsome painful feeling upon it, I told him I could not consent to his\nremaining here, painful as it would be to me to part with him,\nwithout your written sanction. And this you did me the favour to\ngive.\n\n\"I believe you will find that it has been merely a delicacy on your\nson's part, which has delayed his speaking to you about me for two\nmonths past; a delicacy, lest he should say either too much or too\nlittle about me. I have urged him several times to speak to you.\n\n\"Nothing can be done after your letter, but to recommend him to go to\nA. B. (his home) at once. I am very sorry to part with him.\"\n\n4. The following letter is addressed to a Catholic prelate, who\naccused me of coldness in my conduct towards him:--\n\n\"April 16, 1845. I was at that time in charge of a ministerial office\nin the English Church, with persons entrusted to me, and a Bishop to\nobey; how could I possibly write otherwise than I did without\nviolating sacred obligations and betraying momentous interests which\nwere upon me? I felt that my immediate, undeniable duty, clear if\nanything was clear, was to fulfil that trust. It might be right\nindeed to give it up, that was another thing; but it never could be\nright to hold it, and to act as if I did not hold it.... If you knew\nme, you would acquit me, I think, of having ever felt towards your\nLordship an unfriendly spirit, or ever having had a shadow on my mind\n(as far as I dare witness about myself) of what might be called\ncontroversial rivalry or desire of getting the better, or fear lest\nthe world should think I had got the worst, or irritation of any\nkind. You are too kind indeed to imply this, and yet your words lead\nme to say it. And now in like manner, pray believe, though I cannot\nexplain it to you, that I am encompassed with responsibilities, so\ngreat and so various, as utterly to overcome me, unless I have mercy\nfrom Him, who all through my life has sustained and guided me, and to\nwhom I can now submit myself, though men of all parties are thinking\nevil of me.\"\n\n5. \"August 30, 1843. A. B. has suddenly conformed to the Church of\nRome. He was away for three weeks. I suppose I must say in my\ndefence, that he promised me distinctly to remain in our Church three\nyears, before I received him here.\"\n\nSuch fidelity, however, was taken _in malam partem_ by the high\nAnglican authorities; they thought it insidious. I happen still to\nhave a correspondence, in which the chief place is filled by one of\nthe most eminent bishops of the day, a theologian and reader of the\nFathers, a moderate man, who at one time was talked of as likely to\nhave the reversion of the Primacy. A young clergyman in his diocese\nbecame a Catholic; the papers at once reported on authority from \"a\nvery high quarter,\" that, after his reception, \"the Oxford men had\nbeen recommending him to retain his living.\" I had reasons for\nthinking that the allusion was to me, and I authorised the editor of\na paper, who had inquired of me on the point, to \"give it, as far as\nI was concerned, an unqualified contradiction;\"--when from a motive\nof delicacy he hesitated, I added \"my direct and indignant\ncontradiction.\" \"Whoever is the author of it, no correspondence or\nintercourse of any kind, direct or indirect, has passed,\" I continued\nto the Editor, \"between Mr. S. and myself, since his conforming to\nthe Church of Rome, except my formally and merely acknowledging the\nreceipt of his letter, in which he informed me of the fact, without,\nas far as I recollect, my expressing any opinion upon it. You may\nstate this as broadly as I have set it down.\" My denial was told to\nthe Bishop; what took place upon it is given in a letter from which I\ncopy. \"My father showed the letter to the Bishop, who, as he laid it\ndown, said, 'Ah, those Oxford men are not ingenuous.' 'How do you\nmean?' I asked my father. 'Why,' said the Bishop, 'they advised Mr.\nB. S. to retain his living after he turned Catholic. I know that to\nbe a fact, because A. B. told me so.'\" \"The Bishop,\" continues the\nletter, \"who is perhaps the most influential man in reality on the\nbench, evidently believes it to be the truth.\" Dr. Pusey too wrote\nfor me to the Bishop; and the Bishop instantly beat a retreat. \"I\nhave the honour,\" he says in the autograph which I transcribe, \"to\nacknowledge the receipt of your note, and to say in reply that it has\nnot been stated by me (though such a statement has, I believe,\nappeared in some of the Public Prints), that Mr. Newman had advised\nMr. B. S. to retain his living, after he had forsaken our Church. But\nit has been stated to me, that Mr. Newman was in close correspondence\nwith Mr. B. S., and, being fully aware of his state of opinions and\nfeelings, yet advised him to continue in our communion. Allow me to\nadd,\" he says to Dr. Pusey, \"that neither your name, nor that of Mr.\nKeble, was mentioned to me in connection with that of Mr. B. S.\"\n\nI was not going to let the Bishop off on this evasion, so I wrote to\nhim myself. After quoting his letter to Dr. Pusey, I continued,\n\"I beg to trouble your Lordship with my own account of the two\nallegations\" [_close correspondence_ and _fully aware_, etc.] \"which\nare contained in your statement, and which have led to your speaking\nof me in terms which I hope never to deserve. 1. Since Mr. B. S. has\nbeen in your Lordship's diocese, I have seen him in common rooms or\nprivate parties in Oxford two or three times, when I never (as far as\nI can recollect) had any conversation with him. During the same time\nI have, to the best of my memory, written to him three letters. One\nwas lately, in acknowledgment of his informing me of his change of\nreligion. Another was last summer, when I asked him (to no purpose)\nto come and stay with me in this place. The earliest of the three\nletters was written just a year since, as far as I recollect, and it\ncertainly was on the subject of his joining the Church of Rome. I\nwrote this letter at the earnest wish of a friend of his. I cannot\nbe sure that, on his replying, I did not send him a brief note in\nexplanation of points in my letter which he had misapprehended. I\ncannot recollect any other correspondence between us.\n\n\"2. As to my knowledge of his opinions and feelings, as far as I\nremember, the only point of perplexity which I knew, the only point\nwhich to this hour I know, as pressing upon him, was that of the\nPope's supremacy. He professed to be searching Antiquity whether the\nsee of Rome had formally that relation to the whole Church which\nRoman Catholics now assign to it. My letter was directed to the\npoint, that it was his duty not to perplex himself with arguments on\n[such] a question ... and to put it altogether aside.... It is hard\nthat I am put upon my memory, without knowing the details of the\nstatement made against me, considering the various correspondence in\nwhich I am from time to time unavoidably engaged.... Be assured, my\nLord, that there are very definite limits, beyond which persons like\nme would never urge another to retain preferment in the English\nChurch, nor would retain it themselves; and that the censure which\nhas been directed against them by so many of its Rulers has a very\ngrave bearing upon those limits.\" The Bishop replied in a civil\nletter, and sent my own letter to his original informant, who wrote\nto me the letter of a gentleman. It seems that an anxious lady had\nsaid something or other which had been misinterpreted, against her\nreal meaning, into the calumny which was circulated, and so the\nreport vanished into thin air. I closed the correspondence with the\nfollowing letter to the Bishop:--\n\n\"I hope your Lordship will believe me when I say, that statements\nabout me, equally incorrect with that which has come to your\nLordship's ears, are from time to time reported to me as credited and\nrepeated by the highest authorities in our Church, though it is very\nseldom that I have the opportunity of denying them. I am obliged\nby your Lordship's letter to Dr. Pusey as giving me such an\nopportunity.\" Then I added, with a purpose, \"Your Lordship will\nobserve that in my Letter I had no occasion to proceed to the\nquestion, whether a person holding Roman Catholic opinions can in\nhonesty remain in our Church. Lest then any misconception should\narise from my silence, I here take the liberty of adding, that I see\nnothing wrong in such a person's continuing in communion with us,\nprovided he holds no preferment or office, abstains from the\nmanagement of ecclesiastical matters, and is bound by no subscription\nor oath to our doctrines.\"\n\nThis was written on March 7, 1843, and was in anticipation of my own\nretirement into lay communion. This again leads me to a remark; for\ntwo years I was in lay communion, not indeed being a Catholic in my\nconvictions, but in a state of serious doubt, and with the probable\nprospect of becoming some day, what as yet I was not. Under these\ncircumstances I thought the best thing I could do was to give up duty\nand to throw myself into lay communion, remaining an Anglican. I\ncould not go to Rome, while I thought what I did of the devotions she\nsanctioned to the Blessed Virgin and the Saints. I did not give up\nmy fellowship, for I could not be sure that my doubts would not be\nreduced or overcome, however unlikely I thought such an event. But I\ngave up my living; and, for two years before my conversion, I took no\nclerical duty. My last sermon was in September, 1843; then I remained\nat Littlemore in quiet for two years. But it was made a subject of\nreproach to me at the time, and is at this day, that I did not leave\nthe Anglican Church sooner. To me this seems a wonderful charge;\nwhy, even had I been quite sure that Rome was the true Church, the\nAnglican Bishops would have had no just subject of complaint\nagainst me, provided I took no Anglican oath, no clerical duty, no\necclesiastical administration. Do they force all men who go to their\nChurches to believe in the 39 Articles, or to join in the Athanasian\nCreed? However, I was to have other measure dealt to me; great\nauthorities ruled it so; and a learned controversialist in the North\nthought it a shame that I did not leave the Church of England as much\nas ten years sooner than I did. His nephew, an Anglican clergyman,\nkindly wished to undeceive him on this point. So, in 1850, after some\ncorrespondence, I wrote the following letter, which will be of\nservice to this narrative, from its chronological character:--\n\n\"Dec. 6, 1849. Your uncle says, 'If he (Mr. N.) will declare, sans\nphrase, as the French say, that I have laboured under an entire\nmistake, and that he was not a concealed Romanist during the ten\nyears in question' (I suppose, the last ten years of my membership\nwith the Anglican Church), 'or during any part of the time, my\ncontroversial antipathy will be at an end, and I will readily express\nto him that I am truly sorry that I have made such a mistake.'\n\n\"So candid an avowal is what I should have expected from a mind like\nyour uncle's. I am extremely glad he has brought it to this issue.\n\n\"By a 'concealed Romanist' I understand him to mean one, who,\nprofessing to belong to the Church of England, in his heart and will\nintends to benefit the Church of Rome, at the expense of the Church\nof England. He cannot mean by the expression merely a person who in\nfact is benefiting the Church of Rome, while he is intending to\nbenefit the Church of England, for that is no discredit to him\nmorally, and he (your uncle) evidently means to impute blame.\n\n\"In the sense in which I have explained the words, I can simply and\nhonestly say that I was not a concealed Romanist during the whole, or\nany part of, the years in question.\n\n\"For the first four years of the ten (up to Michaelmas, 1839) I\nhonestly wished to benefit the Church of England, at the expense of\nthe Church of Rome:\n\n\"For the second four years I wished to benefit the Church of England\nwithout prejudice to the Church of Rome:\n\n\"At the beginning of the ninth year (Michaelmas, 1843) I began to\ndespair of the Church of England, and gave up all clerical duty; and\nthen, what I wrote and did was influenced by a mere wish not to\ninjure it, and not by the wish to benefit it:\n\n\"At the beginning of the tenth year I distinctly contemplated leaving\nit, but I also distinctly told my friends that it was in my\ncontemplation.\n\n\"Lastly, during the last half of that tenth year I was engaged in\nwriting a book (Essay on Development) in favour of the Roman Church,\nand indirectly against the English; but even then, till it was\nfinished, I had not absolutely intended to publish it, wishing\nto reserve to myself the chance of changing my mind when the\nargumentative views which were actuating me had been distinctly\nbrought out before me in writing.\n\n\"I wish this statement, which I make from memory, and without\nconsulting any document, severely tested by my writings and doings,\nas I am confident it will, on the whole, be borne out, whatever real\nor apparent exceptions (I suspect none) have to be allowed by me in\ndetail.\n\n\"Your uncle is at liberty to make what use he pleases of this\nexplanation.\"\n\nI have now reached an important date in my narrative, the year 1843,\nbut before proceeding to the matters which it contains, I will insert\nportions of my letters from 1841 to 1843, addressed to Catholic\nacquaintances.\n\n1. \"April 8, 1841 ... The unity of the Church Catholic is very near\nmy heart, only I do not see any prospect of it in our time; and I\ndespair of its being effected without great sacrifices on all hands.\nAs to resisting the Bishop's will, I observe that no point of\ndoctrine or principle was in dispute, but a course of action, the\npublication of certain works. I do not think you sufficiently\nunderstood our position. I suppose you would obey the holy see in\nsuch a case; now, when we were separated from the Pope, his authority\nreverted to our Diocesans. Our Bishop is our Pope. It is our theory,\nthat each diocese is an integral Church, intercommunion being a duty\n(and the breach of it a sin), but not essential to Catholicity.\nTo have resisted my Bishop, would have been to place myself in an\nutterly false position, which I never could have recovered. Depend\nupon it, the strength of any party lies in its being _true to its\ntheory_. Consistency is the life of a movement.\n\n\"I have no misgivings whatever that the line I have taken can be\nother than a prosperous one: that is, in itself, for of course\nProvidence may refuse to us its legitimate issues for our sins.\n\n\"I am afraid, that in one respect you may be disappointed. It is my\ntrust, though I must not be too sanguine, that we shall not have\nindividual members of our communion going over to yours. What one's\nduty would be under other circumstances, what our duty ten or twenty\nyears ago, I cannot say; but I do think that there is less of private\njudgment in going with one's Church, than in leaving it. I can\nearnestly desire a union between my Church and yours. I cannot listen\nto the thought of your being joined by individuals among us.\"\n\n2. \"April 26, 1841. My only anxiety is lest your branch of the Church\nshould not meet us by those reforms which surely are _necessary_. It\nnever could be, that so large a portion of Christendom should have\nsplit off from the communion of Rome, and kept up a protest for 300\nyears for nothing. I think I never shall believe that so much piety\nand earnestness would be found among Protestants, if there were\nnot some very grave errors on the side of Rome. To suppose the\ncontrary is most unreal, and violates all one's notions of moral\nprobabilities. All aberrations are founded on, and have their life\nin, some truth or other--and Protestantism, so widely spread and so\nlong enduring, must have in it, and must be witness for, a great\ntruth or much truth. That I am an advocate for Protestantism, you\ncannot suppose--but I am forced into a _Via Media_, short of Rome, as\nit is at present.\"\n\n3. \"May 5, 1841. While I most sincerely hold that there is in the\nRoman Church a traditionary system which is not necessarily connected\nwith her essential formularies, yet, were I ever so much to change my\nmind on this point, this would not tend to bring me from my present\nposition, providentially appointed in the English Church. That\nyour communion was unassailable, would not prove that mine was\nindefensible. Nor would it at all affect the sense in which I receive\nour Articles; they would still speak against certain definite errors,\nthough you had reformed them.\n\n\"I say this lest any lurking suspicion should be left in the mind of\nyour friends that persons who think with me are likely, by the growth\nof their present views, to find it imperative on them to pass over to\nyour communion. Allow me to state strongly, that if you have any such\nthoughts, and proceed to act upon them, your friends will be\ncommitting a fatal mistake. We have (I trust) the principle and\ntemper of obedience too intimately wrought into us to allow of our\nseparating ourselves from our ecclesiastical superiors because in\nmany points we may sympathise with others. We have too great a horror\nof the principle of private judgment to trust it in so immense a\nmatter as that of changing from one communion to another. We may be\ncast out of our communion, or it may decree heresy to be truth--you\nshall say whether such contingencies are likely; but I do not see\nother conceivable causes of our leaving the Church in which we were\nbaptized.\n\n\"For myself, persons must be well acquainted with what I have written\nbefore they venture to say whether I have much changed my main\nopinions and cardinal views in the course of the last eight years.\nThat my _sympathies_ have grown towards the religion of Rome I do not\ndeny; that my _reasons_ for _shunning_ her communion have lessened or\naltered it would be difficult perhaps to prove. And I wish to go by\nreason, not by feeling.\"\n\n4. \"June 18, 1841. You urge persons whose views agree with mine to\ncommence a movement in behalf of a union between the Churches. Now\nin the letters I have written, I have uniformly said that I did not\nexpect that union in our time, and have discouraged the notion of all\nsudden proceedings with a view to it. I must ask your leave to repeat\non this occasion most distinctly, that I cannot be party to any\nagitation, but mean to remain quiet in my own place, and to do all I\ncan to make others take the same course. This I conceive to be my\nsimple duty; but, over and above this, I will not set my teeth on\nedge with sour grapes. I know it is quite within the range of\npossibilities that one or another of our people should go over to\nyour communion; however, it would be a greater misfortune to you than\ngrief to us. If your friends wish to put a gulf between themselves\nand us, let them make converts, but not else. Some months ago, I\nventured to say that I felt it a painful duty to keep aloof from all\nRoman Catholics who came with the intention of opening negotiations\nfor the union of the Churches: when you now urge us to petition our\nBishops for a union, this, I conceive, is very like an act of\nnegotiation.\"\n\n5. I have the first sketch or draft of a letter, which I wrote to a\nzealous Catholic layman: it runs as follows, as I have preserved\nit:--September 12, 1841. \"It would rejoice all Catholic minds among\nus, more than words can say, if you could persuade members of the\nChurch of Rome to take the line in politics which you so earnestly\nadvocate. Suspicion and distrust are the main causes at present of\nthe separation between us, and the nearest approaches in doctrine\nwill but increase the hostility, which, alas, our people feel towards\nyours, while these causes continue. Depend upon it, you must not rely\nupon our Catholic tendencies till they are removed. I am not speaking\nof myself, or of any friends of mine; but of our Church generally.\nWhatever _our_ personal feelings may be, we shall but tend to raise\nand spread a _rival_ Church to yours in the four quarters of the\nworld, unless _you_ do what none but you _can_ do. Sympathies, which\nwould flow over to the Church of Rome, as a matter of course, did she\nadmit them, will but be developed in the consolidation of our own\nsystem, if she continues to be the object of our suspicions and\nfears. I wish, of course I do, that our own Church may be built up\nand extended, but still, not at the cost of the Church of Rome, not\nin opposition to it. I am sure, that, while you suffer, we suffer too\nfrom the separation; _but we cannot remove the obstacles_; it is with\nyou to do so. You do not fear us; we fear you. Till we cease to fear\nyou, we cannot love you.\n\n\"While you are in your present position, the friends of Catholic\nunity in our Church are but fulfilling the prediction of those of\nyour body who are averse to them, viz. that they will be merely\nstrengthening a rival communion to yours. Many of you say that _we_\nare your greatest enemies; we have said so ourselves: so we are, so\nwe shall be, as things stand at present. We are keeping people from\nyou, by supplying their wants in our own Church. We _are_ keeping\npersons from you: do you wish us to keep them from you for a time or\nfor ever? It rests with you to determine. I do not fear that you will\nsucceed among us; you will not supplant our Church in the affections\nof the English nation; only through the English Church can you act\nupon the English nation. I wish of course our Church should be\nconsolidated, with and through and in your communion, for its sake,\nand your sake, and for the sake of unity.\n\n\"Are you aware that the more serious thinkers among us are used, as\nfar as they dare form an opinion, to regard the spirit of Liberalism\nas the characteristic of the destined Antichrist? In vain does any\none clear the Church of Rome from the badges of Antichrist, in which\nProtestants would invest her, if she deliberately takes up her\nposition in the very quarter, whither we have cast them, when we took\nthem off from her. Antichrist is described as the [greek: anomos],\nas exalting himself above the yoke of religion and law. The spirit\nof lawlessness came in with the Reformation, and Liberalism is its\noffspring.\n\n\"And now I fear I am going to pain you by telling you, that you\nconsider the approaches in doctrine on our part towards you, closer\nthan they really are. I cannot help repeating what I have many times\nsaid in print, that your services and devotions to St. Mary in matter\nof fact do most deeply pain me. I am only stating it as a fact.\n\n\"Again, I have nowhere said that I can accept the decrees of Trent\nthroughout, nor implied it. The doctrine of Transubstantiation is a\ngreat difficulty with me, as being, as I think, not primitive. Nor\nhave I said that our Articles in all respects admit of a Roman\ninterpretation; the very word 'Transubstantiation' is disowned in\nthem.\n\n\"Thus, you see, it is not merely on grounds of expedience that we do\nnot join you. There are positive difficulties in the way of it. And,\neven if there were not, we shall have no divine warrant for doing so,\nwhile we think that the Church of England is a branch of the true\nChurch, and that intercommunion with the rest of Christendom\nis necessary, not for the life of a particular Church, but for\nits health only. I have never disguised that there are actual\ncircumstances in the Church of Rome, which pain me much; of the\nremoval of these I see no chance, while we join you one by one; but\nif our Church were prepared for a union, she might make her terms;\nshe might gain the Cup; she might protest against the extreme honours\npaid to St. Mary; she might make some explanation of the doctrine of\nTransubstantiation. I am not prepared to say that a reform in other\nbranches of the Roman Church would be necessary for our uniting with\nthem, however desirable in itself, so that we were allowed to make a\nreform in our own country. We do not look towards Rome as believing\nthat its communion is infallible, but that union is a duty.\"\n\nThe following letter was occasioned by the present of a book, from\nthe friend to whom it is written; more will be said on the subject of\nit presently:--\n\n\"Nov. 22, 1842. I only wish that your Church were more known among us\nby such writings. You will not interest us in her, till we see her,\nnot in politics, but in her true functions of exhorting, teaching,\nand guiding. I wish there were a chance of making the leading men\namong you understand, what I believe is no novel thought to yourself.\nIt is not by learned discussions, or acute arguments, or reports of\nmiracles, that the heart of England can be gained. It is by men\n'approving themselves,' like the Apostle, 'ministers of Christ.'\n\n\"As to your question, whether the Volume you have sent is not\ncalculated to remove my apprehensions that another gospel is\nsubstituted for the true one in your practical instructions, before I\ncan answer it in any way, I ought to know how far the Sermons which\nit comprises are _selected_ from a number, or whether they are the\nwhole, or such as the whole, which have been published of the\nauthor's. I assure you, or at least I trust, that, if it is ever\nclearly brought home to me that I have been wrong in what I have said\non this subject, my public avowal of that conviction will only be a\nquestion of time with me.\n\n\"If, however, you saw our Church as we see it, you would easily\nunderstand that such a change of feeling, did it take place, would\nhave no necessary tendency, which you seem to expect, to draw a\nperson from the Church of England to that of Rome. There is a divine\nlife among us, clearly manifested, in spite of all our disorders,\nwhich is as great a note of the Church, as any can be. Why should we\nseek our Lord's presence elsewhere, when He vouchsafes it to us where\nwe are? What _call_ have we to change our communion?\n\n\"Roman Catholics will find this to be the state of things in time to\ncome, whatever promise they may fancy there is of a large secession\nto their Church. This man or that may leave us, but there will be no\ngeneral movement. There is, indeed, an incipient movement of our\n_Church_ towards yours, and this your leading men are doing all they\ncan to frustrate by their unwearied efforts at all risks to carry off\nindividuals. When will they know their position, and embrace a larger\nand wiser policy?\"\n\n\nThe last letter, which I have inserted, is addressed to my dear\nfriend, Dr. Russell, the present President of Maynooth. He had,\nperhaps, more to do with my conversion than any one else. He called\nupon me, in passing through Oxford in the summer of 1841, and I think\nI took him over some of the buildings of the University. He called\nagain another summer, on his way from Dublin to London. I do not\nrecollect that he said a word on the subject of religion on either\noccasion. He sent me at different times several letters; he was\nalways gentle, mild, unobtrusive, uncontroversial. He let me alone.\nHe also gave me one or two books. Veron's Rule of Faith and some\nTreatises of the Wallenburghs was one; a volume of St. Alfonso\nLiguori's Sermons was another; and to that the letter which I have\nlast inserted relates.\n\nNow it must be observed that the writings of St. Alfonso, as I knew\nthem by the extracts commonly made from them, prejudiced me as much\nagainst the Roman Church as anything else, on account of what was\ncalled their \"Mariolatry;\" but there was nothing of the kind in this\nbook. I wrote to ask Dr. Russell whether anything had been left out\nin the translation; he answered that there certainly was an omission\nof one passage about the Blessed Virgin. This omission, in the case\nof a book intended for Catholics, at least showed that such passages\nas are found in the works of Italian authors were not acceptable to\nevery part of the Catholic world. Such devotional manifestations in\nhonour of our Lady had been my great _crux_ as regards Catholicism; I\nsay frankly, I do not fully enter into them now; I trust I do not\nlove her the less, because I cannot enter into them. They may be\nfully explained and defended; but sentiment and taste do not run with\nlogic: they are suitable for Italy, but they are not suitable for\nEngland. But, over and above England, my own case was special; from a\nboy I had been led to consider that my Maker and I, His creature,\nwere the two beings, certainly such, _in rerum natura_. I will not\nhere speculate, however, about my own feelings. Only this I know full\nwell now, and did not know then, that the Catholic Church allows no\nimage of any sort, material or immaterial, no dogmatic symbol, no\nrite, no sacrament, no Saint, not even the Blessed Virgin herself, to\ncome between the soul and its Creator. It is face to face, \"solus cum\nsolo,\" in all matters between man and his God. He alone creates; He\nalone has redeemed; before His awful eyes we go in death; in the\nvision of Him is our eternal beatitude. \"Solus cum solo:\"--I\nrecollect but indistinctly the effect produced upon me by this\nvolume, but it must have been considerable. At all events I had got a\nkey to a difficulty; in these sermons (or rather heads of sermons, as\nthey seem to be, taken down by a hearer) there is much of what would\nbe called legendary illustration; but the substance of them is plain,\npractical, awful preaching upon the great truths of salvation. What I\ncan speak of with greater confidence is the effect upon me a little\nlater of the Exercises of St. Ignatius. Here again, in a pure matter\nof the most direct religion, in the intercourse between God and the\nsoul, during a season of recollection, of repentance, of good\nresolution, of inquiry into vocation, the soul was \"sola cum solo;\"\nthere was no cloud interposed between the creature and the Object of\nhis faith and love. The command practically enforced was, \"My son,\ngive Me thy heart.\" The devotions then to angels and saints as little\ninterfered with the incommunicable glory of the Eternal, as the love\nwhich we bear our friends and relations, our tender human sympathies,\nare inconsistent with that supreme homage of the heart to the Unseen,\nwhich really does but sanctify and exalt what is of earth. At a later\ndate Dr. Russell sent me a large bundle of penny or half-penny books\nof devotion, of all sorts, as they are found in the booksellers'\nshops at Rome; and, on looking them over, I was quite astonished to\nfind how different they were from what I had fancied, how little\nthere was in them to which I could really object. I have given an\naccount of them in my Essay on the Development of Doctrine. Dr.\nRussell sent me St. Alfonso's book at the end of 1842; however, it\nwas still a long time before I got over my difficulty, on the score\nof the devotions paid to the saints; perhaps, as I judge, from a\nletter I have turned up, it was some way into 1844, before I could be\nsaid to have got over it.\n\nI am not sure that another consideration did not also weigh with me\nthen. The idea of the Blessed Virgin was as it were _magnified_ in\nthe Church of Rome, as time went on,--but so were all the Christian\nideas; as that of the Blessed Eucharist. The whole scene of pale,\nfaint, distant Apostolic Christianity is seen in Rome, as through a\ntelescope or magnifier. The harmony of the whole, however, is of\ncourse what it was. It is unfair then to take one Roman idea, that of\nthe Blessed Virgin, out of what may be called its context.\n\nThus I am brought to the principle of development of doctrine in the\nChristian Church, to which I gave my mind at the end of 1842. I had\nspoken of it in the passage, which I quoted many pages back, in Home\nThoughts Abroad, published in 1836; but it had been a favourite\nsubject with me all along. And it is certainly recognised in that\ncelebrated Treatise of Vincent of Lerins, which has so often been\ntaken as the basis of the Anglican theory. In 1843 I began to\nconsider it steadily; and the general view to which I came is stated\nthus in a letter to a friend of the date of July 14, 1844; it will be\nobserved that, now as before, my _issue_ is still Faith _versus_\nChurch:--\n\n\"The kind of considerations which weigh with me are such as the\nfollowing:--1. I am far more certain (according to the Fathers) that\nwe _are_ in a state of culpable separation, _than_ that developments\ndo _not_ exist under the Gospel, and that the Roman developments are\nnot the true ones. 2. I am far more certain, that _our_ (modern)\ndoctrines are wrong, _than_ that the _Roman_ (modern) doctrines are\nwrong. 3. Granting that the Roman (special) doctrines are not found\ndrawn out in the early Church, yet I think there is sufficient trace\nof them in it, to recommend and prove them, _on the hypothesis_ of\nthe Church having a divine guidance, though not sufficient to prove\nthem by itself. So that the question simply turns on the nature of\nthe promise of the Spirit, made to the Church. 4. The proof of the\nRoman (modern) doctrine is as strong (or stronger) in Antiquity, as\nthat of certain doctrines which both we and Romans hold: _e.g._ there\nis more of evidence in Antiquity for the necessity of Unity, than for\nthe Apostolical Succession; for the Supremacy of the See of Rome,\nthan for the Presence in the Eucharist; for the practice of\nInvocation, than for certain books in the present Canon of Scripture,\netc., etc. 5. The analogy of the Old Testament, and also of the New,\nleads to the acknowledgment of doctrinal developments.\"\n\nAnd thus I was led on to a further consideration. I saw that the\nprinciple of development not only accounted for certain facts,\nbut was in itself a remarkable philosophical phenomenon, giving\na character to the whole course of Christian thought. It was\ndiscernible from the first years of the Catholic teaching up to the\npresent day, and gave to that teaching a unity and individuality.\nIt served as a sort of test, which the Anglican could not exhibit,\nthat modern Rome was in truth ancient Antioch, Alexandria, and\nConstantinople, just as a mathematical curve has its own law and\nexpression.\n\nAnd thus again I was led on to examine more attentively what I doubt\nnot was in my thoughts long before, viz. the concatenation of\nargument by which the mind ascends from its first to its final\nreligious idea; and I came to the conclusion that there was no\nmedium, in true philosophy, between Atheism and Catholicity, and that\na perfectly consistent mind, under those circumstances in which it\nfinds itself here below, must embrace either the one or the other.\nAnd I hold this still: I am a Catholic by virtue of my believing in a\nGod; and if I am asked why I believe in a God, I answer that it is\nbecause I believe in myself, for I feel it impossible to believe in\nmy own existence (and of that fact I am quite sure) without believing\nalso in the existence of Him, who lives as a Personal, All-seeing,\nAll-judging Being in my conscience. Now, I dare say, I have not\nexpressed myself with philosophical correctness, because I have not\ngiven myself to the study of what others have said on the subject;\nbut I think I have a strong true meaning in what I say which will\nstand examination.\n\nMoreover, I came to the conclusion which I have been stating, on\nreasoning of the same nature, as that which I had adopted on the\nsubject of development of doctrine. The fact of the operation from\nfirst to last of that principle of development is an argument in\nfavour of the identity of Roman and Primitive Christianity; but as\nthere is a law which acts upon the subject-matter of dogmatic\ntheology, so is there a law in the matter of religious faith. In the\nthird part of this narrative I spoke of certitude as the consequence,\ndivinely intended and enjoined upon us, of the accumulative force\nof certain given reasons which, taken one by one, were only\nprobabilities. Let it be recollected that I am historically relating\nmy state of mind, at the period of my life which I am surveying. I am\nnot speaking theologically, nor have I any intention of going into\ncontroversy, or of defending myself; but speaking historically of\nwhat I held in 1843-4, I say, that I believed in a God on a ground of\nprobability, that I believed in Christianity on a probability, and\nthat I believed in Catholicism on a probability, and that all three\nwere about the same kind of probability, a cumulative, a transcendent\nprobability, but still probability; inasmuch as He who made us, has\nso willed that in mathematics indeed we arrive at certitude by rigid\ndemonstration, but in religious inquiry we arrive at certitude by\naccumulated probabilities--inasmuch as He who has willed that\nwe should so act, co-operates with us in our acting, and thereby\nbestows on us a certitude which rises higher than the logical force\nof our conclusions. And thus I came to see clearly, and to have a\nsatisfaction in seeing, that, in being led on into the Church of\nRome, I was proceeding, not by any secondary grounds of reason, or\nby controversial points in detail, but was protected and justified,\neven in the use of those secondary arguments, by a great and broad\nprinciple. But, let it be observed, that I am stating a matter of\nfact, not defending it; and if any Catholic says in consequence that\nI have been converted in a wrong way, I cannot help that now.\n\nAnd now I have carried on the history of my opinions to their last\npoint, before I became a Catholic. I find great difficulty in fixing\ndates precisely; but it must have been some way into 1844, before I\nthought not only that the Anglican Church was certainly wrong, but\nthat Rome was right. Then I had nothing more to learn on the subject.\nHow \"Samaria\" faded away from my imagination I cannot tell, but it\nwas gone. Now to go back to the time when this last stage of my\ninquiry was in its commencement, which, if I dare assign dates, was\ntowards the end of 1842.\n\n\nIn 1843, I took two very important and significant steps:--1. In\nFebruary, I made a formal retractation of all the hard things which I\nhad said against the Church of Rome. 2. In September, I resigned the\nliving of St. Mary's, Littlemore inclusive:--I will speak of these\ntwo acts separately.\n\n1. The words, in which I made my retractation, have given rise to\nmuch criticism. After quoting a number of passages from my writings\nagainst the Church of Rome, which I withdrew, I ended thus:--\"If you\nask me how an individual could venture, not simply to hold, but to\npublish such views of a communion so ancient, so wide-spreading, so\nfruitful in Saints, I answer that I said to myself, 'I am not\nspeaking my own words, I am but following almost a _consensus_ of the\ndivines of my own Church. They have ever used the strongest language\nagainst Rome, even the most able and learned of them. I wish to throw\nmyself into their system. While I say what they say, I am safe. Such\nviews, too, are necessary for our position.' Yet I have reason to\nfear still, that such language is to be ascribed, in no small\nmeasure, to an impetuous temper, a hope of approving myself to\npersons I respect, and a wish to repel the charge of Romanism.\"\n\nThese words have been, and are, cited again and again against me, as\nif a confession that, when in the Anglican Church, I said things\nagainst Rome which I did not really believe.\n\nFor myself, I cannot understand how any impartial man can so take\nthem; and I have explained them in print several times. I trust that\nby this time they have been sufficiently explained by what I have\nsaid in former portions of this narrative; still I have a word or two\nto say about them, which I have not said before I apologised in the\nlines in question for saying out charges against the Church of Rome\nwhich I fully believed to be true. What is wonderful in such an\napology?\n\nThere are many things a man may hold, which at the same time he may\nfeel that he has no right to say publicly. The law recognises this\nprinciple. In our own time, men have been imprisoned and fined for\nsaying true things of a bad king. The maxim has been held, that, \"The\ngreater the truth, the greater is the libel.\" And so as to the\njudgment of society, a just indignation would be felt against a\nwriter who brought forward wantonly the weaknesses of a great man,\nthough the whole world knew that they existed. No one is at liberty\nto speak ill of another without a justifiable reason, even though he\nknows he is speaking truth, and the public knows it too. Therefore I\ncould not speak ill against the Church of Rome, though I believed\nwhat I said, without a good reason. I did believe what I said; but\nhad I a good reason for saying it? I thought I had, viz. I said what\nI believed was simply necessary in the controversy, in order to\ndefend ourselves; I considered that the Anglican position could not\nbe defended, without bringing charges against the Church of Rome. Is\nnot this almost a truism? is it not what every one says, who speaks\non the subject at all? does any serious man abuse the Church of\nRome, for the sake of abusing her, or because it justifies his\nown religious position? What is the meaning of the very word\n\"Protestantism,\" but that there is a call to speak out? This then is\nwhat I said; \"I know I spoke strongly against the Church of Rome; but\nit was no mere abuse, for I had a serious reason for doing so.\"\n\nBut, not only did I think such language necessary for my Church's\nreligious position, but all the great Anglican divines had thought so\nbefore me. They had thought so, and they had acted accordingly. And\ntherefore I said, with much propriety, that I had not done it simply\nout of my own head, but that I was following the track, or rather\nreproducing the teaching, of those who had preceded me.\n\nI was pleading guilty; but pleading also that there were extenuating\ncircumstances in the case. We all know the story of the convict, who\non the scaffold bit off his mother's ear. By doing so he did not deny\nthe fact of his own crime, for which he was to hang; but he said that\nhis mother's indulgence, when he was a boy, had a good deal to do\nwith it. In like manner I had made a charge, and I had made it _ex\nanimo_; but I accused others of having led me into believing it and\npublishing it.\n\nBut there was more than this meant in the words which I used:--first,\nI will freely confess, indeed I said it some pages back, that I was\nangry with the Anglican divines. I thought they had taken me in; I\nhad read the Fathers with their eyes; I had sometimes trusted their\nquotations or their reasonings; and from reliance on them, I had used\nwords or made statements, which properly I ought rigidly to have\nexamined myself. I had exercised more faith than criticism in the\nmatter. This did not imply any broad misstatements on my part,\narising from reliance on their authority, but it implied carelessness\nin matters of detail. And this of course was a fault.\n\nBut there was a far deeper reason for my saying what I said in this\nmatter, on which I have not hitherto touched; and it was this:--The\nmost oppressive thought, in the whole process of my change of\nopinion, was the clear anticipation, verified by the event, that it\nwould issue in the triumph of Liberalism. Against the Anti-dogmatic\nprinciple I had thrown my whole mind; yet now I was doing more than\nany one else could do, to promote it. I was one of those who had kept\nit at bay in Oxford for so many years; and thus my very retirement\nwas its triumph. The men who had driven me from Oxford were\ndistinctly the Liberals; it was they who had opened the attack upon\nTract 90, and it was they who would gain a second benefit, if I went\non to retire from the Anglican Church. But this was not all. As I\nhave already said, there are but two alternatives, the way to Rome,\nand the way to Atheism: Anglicanism is the halfway house on the one\nside, and Liberalism is the halfway house on the other. How many men\nwere there, as I knew full well, who would not follow me now in my\nadvance from Anglicanism to Rome, but would at once leave Anglicanism\nand me for the Liberal camp. It is not at all easy (humanly speaking)\nto wind up an Englishman to a dogmatic level. I had done so in a good\nmeasure, in the case both of young men and of laymen, the Anglican\n_Via Media_ being the representative of dogma. The dogmatic and the\nAnglican principle were one, as I had taught them; but I was breaking\nthe _Via Media_ to pieces, and would not dogmatic faith altogether be\nbroken up, in the minds of a great number, by the demolition of the\n_Via Media_? Oh! how unhappy this made me! I heard once from an\neyewitness the account of a poor sailor whose legs were shattered by\na ball, in the action off Algiers in 1816, and who was taken below\nfor an operation. The surgeon and the chaplain persuaded him to have\na leg off; it was done and the tourniquet applied to the wound. Then,\nthey broke it to him that he must have the other off too. The poor\nfellow said, \"You should have told me that, gentlemen,\" and\ndeliberately unscrewed the instrument and bled to death. Would not\nthat be the case with many friends of my own? How could I ever hope\nto make them believe in a second theology, when I had cheated them in\nthe first? with what face could I publish a new edition of a dogmatic\ncreed, and ask them to receive it as gospel? Would it not be plain to\nthem that no certainty was to be found anywhere? Well, in my defence\nI could but make a lame apology; however, it was the true one, viz.\nthat I had not read the Fathers critically enough; that in such nice\npoints, as those which determine the angle of divergence between the\ntwo Churches, I had made considerable miscalculations; and how came\nthis about? Why the fact was, unpleasant as it was to avow, that I\nhad leaned too much upon the assertions of Ussher, Jeremy Taylor, or\nBarrow, and had been deceived by them. Valeat quantum--it was all\nthat _could_ be said. This then was a chief reason of that wording of\nthe retractation, which has given so much offence, and the following\nletter will illustrate it:--\n\n\"April 3, 1844. I wish to remark on W.'s chief distress, that my\nchanging my opinion seemed to unsettle one's confidence in truth and\nfalsehood as external things, and led one to be suspicious of the new\nopinion as one became distrustful of the old. Now in what I shall\nsay, I am not going to speak in favour of my second thoughts in\ncomparison of my first, but against such scepticism and unsettlement\nabout truth and falsehood generally, the idea of which is very\npainful.\n\n\"The case with me, then, was this, and not surely an unnatural\none:--as a matter of feeling and of duty I threw myself into the\nsystem which I found myself in. I saw that the English Church had a\ntheological idea or theory as such, and I took it up. I read Laud on\nTradition, and thought it (as I still think it) very masterly. The\nAnglican Theory was very distinctive. I admired it and took it on\nfaith. It did not (I think) occur to me to doubt it; I saw that it\nwas able, and supported by learning, and I felt it was a duty to\nmaintain it. Further, on looking into Antiquity and reading the\nFathers, I saw such portions of it as I examined, fully confirmed\n(_e.g._ the supremacy of Scripture). There was only one question\nabout which I had a doubt, viz. whether it would _work_, for it has\nnever been more than a paper system....\n\n\"So far from my change of opinion having any fair tendency to\nunsettle persons as to truth and falsehood viewed as objective\nrealities, it should be considered whether such change is not\n_necessary_, if truth be a real objective thing, and be made to\nconfront a person who has been brought up in a system _short_ of\ntruth. Surely the _continuance_ of a person who wishes to go right in\na wrong system, and not his _giving it up_, would be that which\nmilitated against the objectiveness of Truth, leading, as it would,\nto the suspicion, that one thing and another were equally pleasing to\nour Maker, where men were sincere.\n\n\"Nor surely is it a thing I need be sorry for, that I defended the\nsystem in which I found myself, and thus have had to unsay my words.\nFor is it not one's duty, instead of beginning with criticism,\nto throw oneself generously into that form of religion which is\nprovidentially put before one? Is it right, or is it wrong, to begin\nwith private judgment? May we not, on the other hand, look for a\nblessing _through_ obedience even to an erroneous system, and a\nguidance even by means of it out of it? Were those who were strict\nand conscientious in their Judaism, or those who were lukewarm and\nsceptical, more likely to be led into Christianity, when Christ came?\nYet in proportion to their previous zeal, would be their appearance\nof inconsistency. Certainly, I have always contended that obedience\neven to an erring conscience was the way to gain light, and that\nit mattered not where a man began, so that he began on what came\nto hand, and in faith; and that anything might become a divine\nmethod of Truth; that to the pure all things are pure, and have a\nself-correcting virtue and a power of germinating. And though I have\nno right at all to assume that this mercy is granted to me, yet the\nfact, that a person in my situation _may_ have it granted to him,\nseems to me to remove the perplexity which my change of opinion may\noccasion.\n\n\"It may be said--I have said it to myself--'Why, however, did you\n_publish_? had you waited quietly, you would have changed your\nopinion without any of the misery, which now is involved in the\nchange, of disappointing and distressing people.' I answer, that\nthings are so bound up together, as to form a whole, and one cannot\ntell what is or is not a condition of what. I do not see how possibly\nI could have published the Tracts, or other works professing to\ndefend our Church, without accompanying them with a strong protest or\nargument against Rome. The one obvious objection against the whole\nAnglican line is, that it is Roman; so that I really think there was\nno alternative between silence altogether, and forming a theory and\nattacking the Roman system.\"\n\n2. And now, secondly, as to my resignation of St. Mary's, which was\nthe second of the steps which I took in 1843. The ostensible, direct,\nand sufficient cause of my doing so was the persevering attack of the\nBishops on Tract 90. I alluded to it in the letter which I have\ninserted above, addressed to one of the most influential among them.\nA series of their _ex cathedra_ judgments, lasting through three\nyears, and including a notice of no little severity in a Charge of my\nown Bishop, came as near to a condemnation of my Tract, and, so far,\nto a repudiation of the ancient Catholic doctrine, which was the\nscope of the Tract, as was possible in the Church of England. It was\nin order to shield the Tract from such a condemnation, that I had at\nthe time of its publication so simply put myself at the disposal of\nthe higher powers in London. At that time, all that was distinctly\ncontemplated in the way of censure, was the message which my Bishop\nsent me, that it was \"objectionable.\" That I thought was the end of\nthe matter. I had refused to suppress it, and they had yielded that\npoint. Since I wrote the former portions of this narrative, I have\nfound what I wrote to Dr. Pusey on March 24, while the matter was in\nprogress. \"The more I think of it,\" I said, \"the more reluctant I am\nto suppress Tract 90, though _of course_ I will do it if the Bishop\nwishes it; I cannot, however, deny that I shall feel it a severe\nact.\" According to the notes which I took of the letters or messages\nwhich I sent to him in the course of that day, I went on to say, \"My\nfirst feeling was to obey without a word; I will obey still; but my\njudgment has steadily risen against it ever since.\" Then in the\npostscript, \"If I have done any good to the Church, I do ask the\nBishop this favour, as my reward for it, that he would not insist on\na measure, from which I think good will not come. However, I will\nsubmit to him.\" Afterwards, I get stronger still: \"I have almost come\nto the resolution, if the Bishop publicly intimates that I must\nsuppress the Tract, or speaks strongly in his charge against it, to\nsuppress it indeed, but to resign my living also. I could not in\nconscience act otherwise. You may show this in any quarter you\nplease.\"\n\nAll my then hopes, all my satisfaction at the apparent fulfilment of\nthose hopes, were at an end in 1843. It is not wonderful then, that\nin May of that year I addressed a letter on the subject of St. Mary's\nto the same friend, whom I had consulted about retiring from it in\n1840. But I did more now; I told him my great unsettlement of mind on\nthe question of the Churches. I will insert portions of two of my\nletters:--\n\n\"May 4, 1843.... At present I fear, as far as I can analyze my own\nconvictions, I consider the Roman Catholic Communion to be the Church\nof the Apostles, and that what grace is among us (which, through\nGod's mercy, is not little) is extraordinary, and from the\noverflowings of His dispensation. I am very far more sure that\nEngland is in schism, than that the Roman additions to the Primitive\nCreed may not be developments, arising out of a keen and vivid\nrealizing of the Divine Depositum of Faith.\n\n\"You will now understand what gives edge to the Bishops' Charges,\nwithout any undue sensitiveness on my part. They distress me in two\nways:--first, as being in some sense protests and witnesses to my\nconscience against my own unfaithfulness to the English Church, and\nnext, as being samples of her teaching, and tokens how very far she\nis from even aspiring to Catholicity.\n\n\"Of course my being unfaithful to a trust is my great subject of\ndread--as it has long been, as you know.\"\n\nWhen he wrote to make natural objections to my purpose, such as the\napprehension that the removal of clerical obligations might have the\nindirect effect of propelling me towards Rome, I answered:--\n\n\"May 18, 1843.... My office or charge at St. Mary's is not a mere\n_state_, but a continual _energy_. People assume and assert certain\nthings of me in consequence. With what sort of sincerity can I obey\nthe Bishop? how am I to act in the frequent cases, in which one way\nor another the Church of Rome comes into consideration? I have to the\nutmost of my power tried to keep persons from Rome, and with some\nsuccess; but even a year and a half since, my arguments, though more\nefficacious with the persons I aimed at than any others could be,\nwere of a nature to infuse great suspicion of me into the minds of\nlookers-on.\n\n\"By retaining St. Mary's, I am an offence and a stumbling-block.\nPersons are keen-sighted enough to make out what I think on certain\npoints, and then they infer that such opinions are compatible with\nholding situations of trust in our Church. A number of younger men\ntake the validity of their interpretation of the Articles, etc., from\nme on _faith_. Is not my present position a cruelty, as well as a\ntreachery towards the Church?\n\n\"I do not see how I can either preach or publish again, while I hold\nSt. Mary's;--but consider again the following difficulty in such a\nresolution, which I must state at some length.\n\n\"Last Long Vacation the idea suggested itself to me of publishing the\nLives of the English Saints; and I had a conversation with [a\npublisher] upon it. I thought it would be useful, as employing the\nminds of men who were in danger of running wild, bringing them from\ndoctrine to history, and from speculation to fact;--again, as giving\nthem an interest in the English soil, and the English Church, and\nkeeping them from seeking sympathy in Rome, as she is; and further,\nas seeking to promote the spread of right views.\n\n\"But, within the last month, it has come upon me, that, if the scheme\ngoes on, it will be a practical carrying out of No. 90; from the\ncharacter of the usages and opinions of ante-reformation times.\n\n\"It is easy to say, 'Why _will_ you do _any_ thing? why won't you\nkeep quiet? what business had you to think of any such plan at all?'\nBut I cannot leave a number of poor fellows in the lurch. I am bound\nto do my best for a great number of people both in Oxford and\nelsewhere. If _I_ did not act, others would find means to do so.\n\n\"Well, the plan has been taken up with great eagerness and interest.\nMany men are setting to work. I set down the names of men, most of\nthem engaged, the rest half engaged and probable, some actually\nwriting.\" About thirty names follow, some of them at that time of the\nschool of Dr. Arnold, others of Dr. Pusey's, some my personal friends\nand of my own standing, others whom I hardly knew, while of course\nthe majority were of the party of the new Movement. I continue:--\n\n\"The plan has gone so far, that it would create surprise and talk,\nwere it now suddenly given over. Yet how is it compatible with my\nholding St. Mary's, being what I am?\"\n\nSuch was the object and the origin of the projected series of the\nEnglish Saints; and, as the publication was connected, as has been\nseen, with my resignation of St. Mary's, I may be allowed to conclude\nwhat I have to say on the subject here, though it will read like a\ndigression. As soon then as the first of the series got into print,\nthe whole project broke down. I had already anticipated that some\nportions of the series would be written in a style inconsistent with\nthe professions of a beneficed clergyman, and therefore I had given\nup my living; but men of great weight went further, when they saw the\nLife of St. Stephen Harding, and decided that it was of such a\ncharacter as to be inconsistent even with its being given to the\nworld by an Anglican publisher: and so the scheme was given up at\nonce. After the two first parts, I retired from the editorship, and\nthose Lives only were published in addition, which were then already\nfinished, or in advanced preparation. The following passages from\nwhat I or others wrote at the time will illustrate what I have been\nsaying:--\n\nIn November, 1844, I wrote thus to one of the authors of them: \"I am\nnot Editor, I have no direct control over the Series. It is T.'s\nwork; he may admit what he pleases; and exclude what he pleases. I\nwas to have been Editor. I did edit the two first numbers. I was\nresponsible for them, in the way in which an Editor is responsible.\nHad I continued Editor, I should have exercised a control over all. I\nlaid down in the Preface that doctrinal subjects were, if possible,\nto be excluded. But, even then, I also set down that no writer was to\nbe held answerable for any of the Lives but his own. When I gave up\nthe Editorship, I had various engagements with friends for separate\nLives remaining on my hands. I should have liked to have broken from\nthem all, but there were some from which I could not break, and I let\nthem take their course. Some have come to nothing; others like yours\nhave gone on. I have seen such, either in MS. or Proof. As time goes\non, I shall have less and less to do with the Series. I think the\nengagement between you and me should come to an end. I have anyhow\nabundant responsibility on me, and too much. I shall write to T. that\nif he wants the advantage of your assistance, he must write to you\ndirect.\"\n\nIn accordance with this letter, I had already advertised in January\n1844, ten months before it, that \"other Lives,\" after St. Stephen\nHarding, \"will be published by their respective authors on their own\nresponsibility.\" This notice is repeated in February, in the\nadvertisement to the second volume entitled \"The Family of St.\nRichard,\" though to this volume also, for some reason, I also put my\ninitials. In the Life of St. Augustine, the author, a man of nearly\nmy own age, says in like manner, \"No one but himself is responsible\nfor the way in which these materials have been used.\" I have in MS.\nanother advertisement to the same effect, but cannot tell whether it\nwas ever put into print.\n\nI will add, since the authors have been considered hot-headed boys,\nwhom I was in charge of and whom I suffered do intemperate things,\nthat, while the writer of St. Augustine was of the mature age which I\nhave stated, most of the others were on one side or other of thirty.\nThree were under twenty-five. Moreover, of these writers some became\nCatholics, some remained Anglicans, and others have professed what\nare called free or liberal opinions.\n\nThe immediate cause of the resignation of my living is stated in the\nfollowing letter, which I wrote to my Bishop:--\n\n\"August 29, 1843. It is with much concern that I inform your\nLordship, that Mr. A. B., who has been for the last year an inmate of\nmy house here, has just conformed to the Church of Rome. As I have\never been desirous, not only of faithfully discharging the trust,\nwhich is involved in holding a living in your Lordship's diocese, but\nof approving myself to your Lordship, I will for your information\nstate one or two circumstances connected with this unfortunate\nevent.... I received him on condition of his promising me, which he\ndistinctly did, that he would remain quietly in our Church for three\nyears. A year has passed since that time, and, though I saw nothing\nin him which promised that he would eventually be contented with his\npresent position, yet for the time his mind became as settled as one\ncould wish, and he frequently expressed his satisfaction at being\nunder the promise which I had exacted of him.\"\n\nI felt it impossible to remain any longer in the service of the\nAnglican Church, when such a breach of trust, however little I had to\ndo with it, would be laid at my door. I wrote in a few days to a\nfriend:\n\n\"September 7, 1843. I this day ask the Bishop leave to resign St.\nMary's. Men whom you little think, or at least whom I little thought,\nare in almost a hopeless way. Really we may expect anything. I am\ngoing to publish a Volume of Sermons, including those Four against\nmoving.\"\n\n\nI resigned my living on September 18th. I had not the means of doing\nit legally at Oxford. The late Mr. Goldsmid aided me in resigning it\nin London. I found no fault with the Liberals; they had beaten me in\na fair field. As to the act of the Bishops, I thought, as Walter\nScott has applied the text, that they had \"seethed the kid in his\nmother's milk.\"\n\nI said to a friend:--\n\n  \"Victrix causa diis placuit, sed victa Catoni.\"\n\nAnd now I have brought almost to an end, as far as this sketch has\nto treat of them, the history both of my opinions, and of the public\nacts which they involved. I had only one more advance of mind to\nmake; and that was, to be _certain_ of what I had hitherto\nanticipated, concluded, and believed; and this was close upon my\nsubmission to the Catholic Church. And I had only one more act to\nperform, and that was the act of submission itself. But two years yet\nintervened before the date of these final events; during which I was\nin lay communion in the Church of England, attending its services as\nusual, and abstaining altogether from intercourse with Catholics,\nfrom their places of worship, and from those religious rites and\nusages, such as the Invocation of Saints, which are characteristics\nof their creed. I did all this on principle; for I never could\nunderstand how a man could be of two religions at once.\n\nWhat then I now have to add is of a private nature, being my\npreparation for the great event, for which I was waiting, in the\ninterval between the autumns of 1843 and 1845.\n\nAnd I shall almost confine what I have to say to this one point, the\ndifficulty I was in as to the best mode of revealing the state of my\nmind to my friends and others, and how I managed to do it.\n\nUp to January, 1842, I had not disclosed my state of unsettlement to\nmore than three persons, as has been mentioned above, and is repeated\nin the letters which I am now about to give to the reader. To two of\nthem, intimate and familiar companions, in the Autumn of 1839: to the\nthird, an old friend too, when, I suppose, I was in great distress\nof mind upon the affair of the Jerusalem Bishopric. In May, 1843,\nI mentioned it to the friend, by whose advice I wished, as far as\npossible, to be guided. To mention it on set purpose to any one,\nunless indeed I was asking advice, I should have felt to be a crime.\nIf there is anything that was and is abhorrent to me, it is the\nscattering doubts, and unsettling consciences without necessity. A\nstrong presentiment that my existing opinions would ultimately give\nway, and that the grounds of them were unsound, was not a sufficient\nwarrant for disclosing the state of my mind. I had no guarantee yet,\nthat that presentiment would be realised. Supposing I were crossing\nice, which came right in my way, which I had good reasons for\nconsidering sound, and which I saw numbers before me crossing in\nsafety, and supposing a stranger from the bank, in a voice of\nauthority, and in an earnest tone, warned me that it was dangerous,\nand then was silent, I think I should be startled, and should look\nabout me anxiously, but I also should go on, till I had better\ngrounds for doubt; and such was my state, I believe, till the end of\n1842. Then again, when my dissatisfaction became greater, it was hard\nat first to determine the point of time, when it was too strong to\nsuppress with propriety. Certitude of course is a point, but doubt\nis a progress; I was not near certitude yet. Certitude is a reflex\naction; it is to know that one knows. I believe I had not that, till\nclose upon my reception into the Catholic Church. Again, a practical,\neffective doubt is a point too, but who can easily ascertain it for\nhimself? Who can determine when it is, that the scales in the balance\nof opinion begin to turn, and what was a greater probability in\nbehalf of a belief becomes a positive doubt against it?\n\nIn considering this question in its bearing upon my conduct in 1843,\nmy own simple answer to my great difficulty was, _Do_ what your\npresent state of opinion requires, and let that _doing_ tell: speak\nby _acts_. This I did; my first _act_ of the year was in February,\n1843. After three months' deliberation I published my retractation of\nthe violent charges which I had made against Rome: I could not be\nwrong in doing so much as this; but I did no more: I did not retract\nmy Anglican teaching. My second _act_ was in September; after much\nsorrowful lingering and hesitation, I resigned my Living. I tried\nindeed to keep Littlemore for myself, even though it was still to\nremain an integral part of St. Mary's. I had made it a parish, and I\nloved it; but I did not succeed in my attempt. I could indeed bear to\nbecome the curate at will of another, but I hoped still that I might\nhave been my own master there. I had hoped an exception might have\nbeen made in my favour, under the circumstances; but I did not gain\nmy request. Indeed, I was asking what was impracticable, and it is\nwell for me that it was so.\n\nThese were my two acts of the year, and I said, \"I cannot be wrong in\nmaking them; let that follow which must follow in the thoughts of\nthe world about me, when they see what I do.\" They fully answered my\npurpose. What I felt as a simple duty to do, did create a general\nsuspicion about me, without such responsibility as would be involved\nin my taking the initiative in creating it. Then, when friends wrote\nme on the subject, either I did not deny or I confessed it, according\nto the character and need of their letters. Sometimes, in the case of\nintimate friends, whom I seemed to leave in ignorance of what others\nknew about me, I invited the question.\n\nAnd here comes in another point for explanation. While I was fighting\nfor the Anglican Church in Oxford, then indeed I was very glad to\nmake converts, and, though I never broke away from that rule of my\nmind (as I may call it) of which I have already spoken, of finding\ndisciples rather than seeking them, yet, that I made advances to\nothers in a special way, I have no doubt; this came to an end,\nhowever, as soon as I fell into misgivings as to the true ground to\nbe taken in the controversy. Then, when I gave up my place in the\nMovement, I ceased from any such proceeding: and my utmost endeavour\nwas to tranquillise such persons, especially those who belonged to\nthe new school, as were unsettled in their religious views, and, as I\njudged, hasty in their conclusions. This went on till 1843; but, at\nthat date, as soon as I turned my face Romeward, I gave up altogether\nand in any shape, as far as ever was possible, the thought of acting\nupon others. Then I myself was simply my own concern. How could I in\nany sense direct others, who had to be guided in so momentous a\nmatter myself? How could I be considered in a position, even to say a\nword to them one way or the other? How could I presume to unsettle\nthem, as I was unsettled, when I had no means of bringing them out of\nsuch unsettlement? And, if they were unsettled already, how could I\npoint to them a place of refuge, which I was not sure that I should\nchoose for myself? My only line, my only duty, was to keep simply\nto my own case. I recollected Pascal's words, \"Je mourrai seul.\" I\ndeliberately put out of my thoughts all other works and claims, and\nsaid nothing to any one, unless I was obliged.\n\nBut this brought upon me a great trouble. In the newspapers there\nwere continual reports about my intentions; I did not answer them;\npresently strangers or friends wrote, begging to be allowed to answer\nthem; and, if I still kept to my resolution and said nothing, then I\nwas thought to be mysterious, and a prejudice was excited against me.\nBut, what was far worse, there were a number of tender, eager hearts,\nof whom I knew nothing at all, who were watching me, wishing to think\nas I thought, and to do as I did, if they could but find it out; who\nin consequence were distressed, that, in so solemn a matter, they\ncould not see what was coming, and who heard reports about me this\nway or that, on a first day and on a second; and felt the weariness\nof waiting, and the sickness of delayed hope, and did not understand\nthat I was as perplexed as themselves, and, being of more sensitive\ncomplexion of mind than myself, were made ill by the suspense.\nAnd they too of course for the time thought me mysterious and\ninexplicable. I ask their pardon as far as I was really unkind\nto them. There was a gifted and deeply earnest lady, who in a\nparabolical account of that time, has described both my conduct as\nshe felt it, and that of such as herself. In a singularly graphic,\namusing vision of pilgrims, who were making their way across a bleak\ncommon in great discomfort, and who were ever warned against, yet\ncontinually nearing, \"the king's highway\" on the right, she says,\n\"All my fears and disquiets were speedily renewed by seeing the most\ndaring of our leaders (the same who had first forced his way through\nthe palisade, and in whose courage and sagacity we all put implicit\ntrust) suddenly stop short, and declare that he would go on no\nfurther. He did not, however, take the leap at once, but quietly sat\ndown on the top of the fence with his feet hanging towards the road,\nas if he meant to take his time about it, and let himself down\neasily.\" I do not wonder at all that I thus seemed so unkind to a\nlady, who at that time had never seen me. We were both in trial in\nour different ways. I am far from denying that I was acting selfishly\nboth towards them and towards others; but it was a religious\nselfishness. Certainly to myself my own duty seemed clear. They that\nare whole can heal others; but in my case it was, \"Physician, heal\nthyself.\" My own soul was my first concern, and it seemed an\nabsurdity to my reason to be converted in partnership. I wished to go\nto my Lord by myself, and in my own way, or rather His way. I had\nneither wish, nor, I may say, thought of taking a number with me. But\nnothing of this could be known to others.\n\nThe following three letters are written to a friend, who had every\nclaim upon me to be frank with him:--it will be seen that I disclose\nthe real state of mind to him, in proportion as he presses me.\n\n1. \"October 14, 1843. I would tell you in a few words why I have\nresigned St. Mary's, as you seem to wish, were it possible to do so.\nBut it is most difficult to bring out in brief, or even _in extenso_,\nany just view of my feelings and reasons.\n\n\"The nearest approach I can give to a general account of them is to\nsay, that it has been caused by the general repudiation of the view,\ncontained in No. 90, on the part of the Church. I could not stand\nagainst such an unanimous expression of opinion from the Bishops,\nsupported, as it has been, by the concurrence, or at least silence,\nof all classes in the Church, lay and clerical. If there ever was a\ncase, in which an individual teacher has been put aside and virtually\nput away by a community, mine is one. No decency has been observed in\nthe attacks upon me from authority; no protests have been offered\nagainst them. It is felt,--I am far from denying, justly felt,--that\nI am a foreign material, and cannot assimilate with the Church of\nEngland.\n\n\"Even my own Bishop has said that my mode of interpreting the\nArticles makes them mean _anything or nothing_. When I heard this\ndelivered, I did not believe my ears. I denied to others that it was\nsaid.... Out came the charge, and the words could not be mistaken.\nThis astonished me the more, because I published that Letter to him\n(how unwillingly you know) on the understanding that _I_ was to\ndeliver his judgment on No. 90 _instead_ of him. A year elapses, and\na second and heavier judgment came forth. I did not bargain for\nthis,--nor did he, but the tide was too strong for him.\n\n\"I fear that I must confess, that, in proportion as I think the\nEnglish Church is showing herself intrinsically and radically alien\nfrom Catholic principles, so do I feel the difficulties of defending\nher claims to be a branch of the Catholic Church. It seems a dream to\ncall a communion Catholic, when one can neither appeal to any clear\nstatement of Catholic doctrine in its formularies, nor interpret\nambiguous formularies by the received and living Catholic sense,\nwhether past or present. Men of Catholic views are too truly but a\nparty in our Church. I cannot deny that many other independent\ncircumstances, which it is not worth while entering into, have led me\nto the same conclusion.\n\n\"I do not say all this to every body, as you may suppose; but I do\nnot like to make a secret of it to you.\"\n\n2. \"Oct. 25, 1843. You have engaged in a dangerous correspondence; I\nam deeply sorry for the pain I shall give you.\n\n\"I must tell you then frankly (but I combat arguments which to me,\nalas, are shadows), that it is not from disappointment, irritation,\nor impatience, that I have, whether rightly or wrongly, resigned St.\nMary's; but because I think the Church of Rome the Catholic Church,\nand ours not part of the Catholic Church, because not in communion\nwith Rome; and because I feel that I could not honestly be a teacher\nin it any longer.\n\n\"This thought came to me last summer four years.... I mentioned it to\ntwo friends in the autumn.... It arose in the first instance from the\nMonophysite and Donatist controversies, the former of which I was\nengaged with in the course of theological study to which I had given\nmyself. This was at a time when no Bishop, I believe, had declared\nagainst us, and when all was progress and hope. I do not think I have\never felt disappointment or impatience, certainly not then; for I\nnever looked forward to the future, nor do I realise it now.\n\n\"My first effort was to write that article on the Catholicity of the\nEnglish Church; for two years it quieted me. Since the summer of 1839\nI have written little or nothing on modern controversy.... You know\nhow unwillingly I wrote my letter to the Bishop in which I committed\nmyself again, as the safest course under circumstances. The article I\nspeak of quieted me till the end of 1841, over the affair of No. 90,\nwhen that wretched Jerusalem Bishopric (no personal matter) revived\nall my alarms. They have increased up to this moment. At that time I\ntold my secret to another person in addition.\n\n\"You see then that the various ecclesiastical and\nquasi-ecclesiastical acts, which have taken place in the course of\nthe last two years and a half, are not the _cause_ of my state of\nopinion, but are keen stimulants and weighty confirmations of a\nconviction forced upon me, while engaged in the _course of duty_,\nviz. that theological reading to which I had given myself. And this\nlast-mentioned circumstance is a fact, which has never, I think, come\nbefore me till now that I write to you.\n\n\"It is three years since, on account of my state of opinion, I urged\nthe Provost in vain to let St. Mary's be separated from Littlemore;\nthinking I might with a safe conscience serve the latter, though I\ncould not comfortably continue in so public a place as a University.\nThis was before No. 90.\n\n\"Finally, I have acted under advice, and that, not of my own\nchoosing, but what came to me in the way of duty, nor the advice of\nthose only who agree with me, but of near friends who differ from me.\n\n\"I have nothing to reproach myself with, as far as I see, in the\nmatter of impatience; _i.e._ practically or in conduct. And I trust\nthat He, who has kept me in the slow course of change hitherto, will\nkeep me still from hasty acts or resolves with a doubtful conscience.\n\n\"This I am sure of, that such interposition as yours, kind as it is,\nonly does what _you_ would consider harm. It makes me realise my own\nviews to myself; it makes me see their consistency; it assures me of\nmy own deliberateness; it suggests to me the traces of a Providential\nHand; it takes away the pain of disclosures; it relieves me of a\nheavy secret.\n\n\"You may make what use of my letters you think right.\"\n\nMy correspondent wrote to me once more, and I replied thus: \"October\n31, 1843. Your letter has made my heart ache more, and caused me more\nand deeper sighs than any I have had a long while, though I assure\nyou there is much on all sides of me to cause sighing and heartache.\nOn all sides I am quite haunted by the one dreadful whisper repeated\nfrom so many quarters, and causing the keenest distress to friends.\nYou know but a part of my present trial, in knowing that I am\nunsettled myself.\n\n\"Since the beginning of this year I have been obliged to tell the\nstate of my mind to some others; but never, I think, without being in\na way obliged, as from friends writing to me as you did, or guessing\nhow matters stood. No one in Oxford knows it or here\" [Littlemore],\n\"but one friend whom I felt I could not help telling the other day.\nBut, I suppose, very many suspect it.\"\n\nOn receiving these letters, my correspondent, if I recollect rightly,\nat once communicated the matter of them to Dr. Pusey, and this will\nenable me to state as nearly as I can the way in which my changed\nstate of opinion was made known to him.\n\nI had from the first a great difficulty in making Dr. Pusey\nunderstand such differences of opinion as existed between himself\nand me. When there was a proposal about the end of 1838 for a\nsubscription for a Cranmer Memorial, he wished us both to subscribe\ntogether to it. I could not, of course, and wished him to subscribe\nby himself. That he would not do; he could not bear the thought of\nour appearing to the world in separate positions, in a matter of\nimportance. And, as time went on, he would not take any hints, which\nI gave him, on the subject of my growing inclination to Rome. When I\nfound him so determined, I often had not the heart to go on. And then\nI knew, that, from affection to me, he so often took up and threw\nhimself into what I said, that I felt the great responsibility I\nshould incur, if I put things before him just as I might view them.\nAnd, not knowing him so well as I did afterwards, I feared lest I\nshould unsettle him. And moreover, I recollected well, how prostrated\nhe had been with illness in 1832, and I used always to think that the\nstart of the Movement had given him a fresh life. I fancied that his\nphysical energies even depended on the presence of a vigorous hope\nand bright prospects for his imagination to feed upon; so much so,\nthat when he was so unworthily treated by the authorities of the\nplace in 1843, I recollect writing to the late Mr. Dodsworth to state\nmy anxiety, lest, if his mind became dejected in consequence, his\nhealth would suffer seriously also. These were difficulties in my\nway; and then again, another difficulty was, that, as we were not\ntogether under the same roof, we only saw each other at set times;\nothers indeed, who were coming in or out of my rooms freely, and as\nthere might be need at the moment, knew all my thoughts easily; but\nfor him to know them well, formal efforts were necessary. A common\nfriend of ours broke it all to him in 1841, as far as matters had\ngone at that time, and showed him clearly the logical conclusions\nwhich must lie in propositions to which I had committed myself; but\nsomehow or other in a little while, his mind fell back into its\nformer happy state, and he could not bring himself to believe that\nhe and I should not go on pleasantly together to the end. But that\naffectionate dream needs must have been broken at last; and two years\nafterwards, that friend to whom I wrote the letters which I have just\nnow inserted, set himself, as I have said, to break it. Upon that, I\ntoo begged Dr. Pusey to tell in private to any one he would, that I\nthought in the event I should leave the Church of England. However,\nhe would not do so; and at the end of 1844 had almost relapsed into\nhis former thoughts about me, if I may judge from a letter of his\nwhich I have found. Nay, at the Commemoration of 1845, a few months\nbefore I left the Anglican Church, I think he said about me to a\nfriend, \"I trust after all we shall keep him.\"\n\nIn that autumn of 1843, at the time that I spoke to Dr. Pusey, I\nasked another friend also to communicate to others in confidence the\nprospect which lay before me.\n\nTo another friend I gave the opportunity of knowing it, if he would,\nin the following postscript to a letter:--\n\n\"While I write, I will add a word about myself. You may come near a\nperson or two who, owing to circumstances, know more exactly my state\nof feeling than you do, though they would not tell you. Now I do not\nlike that you should not be aware of this, though I see no _reason_\nwhy you should know what they happen to know. Your wishing it\notherwise would _be_ a reason.\"\n\nI had a dear and old friend, near his death; I never told him my\nstate of mind. Why should I unsettle that sweet calm tranquillity,\nwhen I had nothing to offer him instead? I could not say, \"Go to\nRome;\" else I should have shown him the way. Yet I offered myself for\nhis examination. One day he led the way to my speaking out; but,\nrightly or wrongly, I could not respond. My reason was, \"I have no\ncertainty on the matter myself. To say 'I think' is to tease and to\ndistress, not to persuade.\"\n\nI wrote to him on Michaelmas Day, 1843: \"As you may suppose, I have\nnothing to write to you about, pleasant. I _could_ tell you some very\npainful things; but it is best not to anticipate trouble, which after\nall can but happen, and, for what one knows, may be averted. You are\nalways so kind, that sometimes, when I part with you, I am nearly\nmoved to tears, and it would be a relief to be so, at your kindness\nand at my hardness. I think no one ever had such kind friends as I\nhave.\"\n\nThe next year, January 22, I wrote to him: \"Pusey has quite enough on\nhim, and generously takes on himself more than enough, for me to add\nburdens when I am not obliged; particularly too, when I am very\nconscious, that there _are_ burdens, which I am or shall be obliged\nto lay upon him some time or other, whether I will or no.\"\n\nAnd on February 21: \"Half-past ten. I am just up, having a bad cold;\nthe like has not happened to me (except twice in January) in my\nmemory. You may think you have been in my thoughts, long before my\nrising. Of course you are so continually, as you well know. I could\nnot come to see you; I am not worthy of friends. With my opinions,\nto the full of which I dare not confess, I feel like a guilty person\nwith others, though I trust I am not so. People kindly think that I\nhave much to bear externally, disappointment, slander, etc. No, I\nhave nothing to bear, but the anxiety which I feel for my friends'\nanxiety for me, and their perplexity. This [letter] is a better\nAsh-Wednesday than birthday present;\" [his birthday was the same day\nas mine; it was Ash-Wednesday that year]; \"but I cannot help writing\nabout what is uppermost. And now all kindest and best wishes to you,\nmy oldest friend, whom I must not speak more about, and with\nreference to myself, lest you should be angry.\" It was not in his\nnature to have doubts: he used to look at me with anxiety, and wonder\nwhat had come over me.\n\nOn Easter Monday: \"All that is good and gracious descend upon you and\nyours from the influences of this Blessed Season; and it will be so\n(so be it!), for what is the life of you all, as day passes after\nday, but a simple endeavour to serve Him, from whom all blessing\ncomes? Though we are separated in place, yet this we have in common,\nthat you are living a calm and cheerful time, and I am enjoying the\nthought of you. It is your blessing to have a clear heaven, and peace\naround, according to the blessing pronounced on Benjamin. So it is,\nand so may it ever be.\"\n\nHe was in simple good faith. He died in September that year. I had\nexpected that his last illness would have brought light to my mind,\nas to what I ought to do. It brought none. I made a note, which runs\nthus: \"I sobbed bitterly over his coffin, to think that he left me\nstill dark as to what the way of truth was, and what I ought to do in\norder to please God and fulfil His will.\" I think I wrote to Charles\nMarriott to say, that at that moment, with the thought of my friend\nbefore me, my strong view in favour of Rome remained just what it\nwas. On the other hand, my firm belief that grace was to be found in\nthe Anglican Church remained too.[5] I wrote to a friend upon his\ndeath:--\n\n\"Sept. 16, 1844. I am full of wrong and miserable feelings, which it\nis useless to detail, so grudging and sullen, when I should be\nthankful. Of course, when one sees so blessed an end, and that, the\ntermination of so blameless a life, of one who really fed on our\nordinances and got strength from them, and see the same continued in\na whole family, the little children finding quite a solace of their\npain in the Daily Prayer, it is impossible not to feel more at ease\nin our Church, as at least a sort of Zoar, a place of refuge and\ntemporary rest, because of the steepness of the way. Only, may we be\nkept from unlawful security, lest we have Moab and Ammon for our\nprogeny, the enemies of Israel.\"\n\nI could not continue in this state, either in the light of duty or of\nreason. My difficulty was this: I had been deceived greatly once; how\ncould I be sure that I was not deceived a second time? I then thought\nmyself right; how was I to be certain that I was right now? How many\nyears had I thought myself sure of what I now rejected? how could I\never again have confidence in myself? As in 1840 I listened to the\nrising doubt in favour of Rome, now I listened to the waning doubt\nin favour of the English Church. To be certain is to know that one\nknows; what test had I, that I should not change again, after that I\nhad become a Catholic? I had still apprehension of this, though I\nthought a time would come, when it would depart. However, some limit\nought to be put to these vague misgivings; I must do my best and then\nleave it to a higher power to prosper it. So, I determined to write\nan essay on Doctrinal Development; and then, if, at the end of it, my\nconvictions in favour of the Roman Church were not weaker, to make up\nmy mind to seek admission into her fold. I acted upon this resolution\nin the beginning of 1845, and worked at my Essay steadily into the\nautumn.\n\nI told my resolution to various friends at the beginning of the year;\nindeed, it was at that time known generally. I wrote to a friend\nthus:--\n\n\"My intention is, if nothing comes upon me, which I cannot foresee,\nto remain quietly _in statu quo_ for a considerable time, trusting\nthat my friends will kindly remember me and my trial in their\nprayers. And I should give up my fellowship some time before anything\nfurther took place.\"\n\nOne very dear friend, now no more, Charles Marriott, sent me a letter\nat the beginning of the next year, from which, from love of him, I\nquote some sentences:--\n\n\"January 15, 1845. You know me well enough to be aware, that I never\nsee through anything at first. Your letter to B. casts a gloom over\nthe future, which you can understand, if you have understood me, as I\nbelieve you have. But I may speak out at once, of what I see and\nfeel at once, and doubt not that I shall ever feel: that your whole\nconduct towards the Church of England and towards us, who have\nstriven and are still striving to seek after God for ourselves,\nand to revive true religion among others, under her authority and\nguidance, has been generous and considerate, and, were that word\nappropriate, dutiful, to a degree that I could scarcely have\nconceived possible, more unsparing of self than I should have thought\nnature could sustain. I have felt with pain every link that you have\nsevered, and I have asked no questions, because I felt that you ought\nto measure the disclosure of your thoughts according to the occasion,\nand the capacity of those to whom you spoke. I write in haste, in\nthe midst of engagements engrossing in themselves, but partly made\ntasteless, partly embittered by what I have heard; but I am willing\nto trust even you, whom I love best on earth, in God's Hand, in the\nearnest prayer that you may be so employed as is best for the Holy\nCatholic Church.\"\n\nThere was a lady, who was very anxious on the subject, and I wrote to\nher the following letters:--\n\n1. \"October, 1844. What can I say more to your purpose? If you will\nask me any specific questions, I will answer them, as far as I am\nable.\"\n\n2. \"November 7, 1844. I am still where I was; I am not moving. Two\nthings, however, seem plain, that every one is prepared for such an\nevent, next, that every one expects it of me. Few indeed, who do not\nthink it suitable, fewer still, who do not think it likely. However,\nI do not think it either suitable or likely. I have very little\nreason to doubt about the issue of things, but the when and the how\nare known to Him, from whom, I trust, both the course of things and\nthe issue come. The expression of opinion, and the latent and\nhabitual feeling about me, which is on every side and among all\nparties, has great force. I insist upon it, because I have a great\ndread of going by my own feelings, lest they should mislead me. By\none's sense of duty one must go; but external facts support one in\ndoing so.\"\n\n3. \"January 8, 1845. My full belief is, in accordance with your\nletter, that, if there is a move in our Church, very few persons\nindeed will be partners to it. I doubt whether one or two at the most\namong residents at Oxford. And I don't know whether I can wish it.\nThe state of the Roman Catholics is at present so unsatisfactory.\nThis I am sure of, that nothing but a simple, direct call of duty is\na warrant for any one leaving our Church; no preference of another\nChurch, no delight in its services, no hope of greater religious\nadvancement in it, no indignation, no disgust, at the persons and\nthings, among which we may find ourselves in the Church of England.\nThe simple question is, Can _I_ (it is personal, not whether another,\nbut can _I_) be saved in the English Church? am _I_ in safety, were I\nto die tonight? Is it a mortal sin in _me_, not joining another\ncommunion? P.S. I hardly see my way to concur in attendance, though\noccasional, in the Roman Catholic chapel, unless a man has made up\nhis mind pretty well to join it eventually. Invocations are not\n_required_ in the Church of Rome; somehow, I do not like using them\nexcept under the sanction of the Church, and this makes me unwilling\nto admit them in members of our Church.\"\n\n4. \"March 30. Now I will tell you more than any one knows except two\nfriends. My own convictions are as strong, as I suppose they can\nbecome: only it is so difficult to know whether it is a call of\n_reason_ or of conscience. I cannot make out, if I am impelled by\nwhat seems clear, or by a sense of _duty_. You can understand how\npainful this doubt is; so I have waited, hoping for light, and using\nthe words of the Psalmist, 'Show some token upon me.' But I suppose I\nhave no right to wait for ever for this. Then I am waiting, because\nfriends are most considerately bearing me in mind, and asking\nguidance for me; and, I trust, I should attend to any new feelings\nwhich came upon me, should that be the effect of their kindness. And\nthen this waiting subserves the purpose of preparing men's minds.\nI dread shocking, unsettling people. Anyhow, I can't avoid giving\nincalculable pain. So, if I had my will, I should like to wait till\nthe summer of 1846, which would be a full seven years from the time\nthat my convictions first began to fall on me. But I don't think I\nshall last so long.\n\n\"My present intention is to give up my Fellowship in October, and to\npublish some work or treatise between that and Christmas. I wish\npeople to know _why_ I am acting, as well as _what_ I am doing; it\ntakes off that vague and distressing surprise, 'What _can_ have made\nhim?'\"\n\n5. \"June 1. What you tell me of yourself makes it plain that it is\nyour duty to remain quietly and patiently, till you see more clearly\nwhere you are; else you are leaping in the dark.\"\n\nIn the early part of this year, if not before, there was an idea\nafloat that my retirement from the Anglican Church was owing to the\nfeeling that I had so been thrust aside, without any one's taking my\npart. Various measures were, I believe, talked of in consequence of\nthis surmise. Coincidently with it was an exceedingly kind article\nabout me in a quarterly, in its April number. The writer praised me\nin feeling and beautiful language far above my deserts. In the course\nof his remarks, he said, speaking of me as Vicar of St. Mary's: \"He\nhad the future race of clergy hearing him. Did he value and feel\ntender about, and cling to his position? ...Not at all.... No\nsacrifice to him perhaps, he did not care about such things.\"\n\nThis was the occasion of my writing to a very intimate friend the\nfollowing letter:--\n\n\"April 3, 1845.... Accept this apology, my dear C., and forgive me.\nAs I say so, tears come into my eyes--that arises from the accident\nof this time, when I am giving up so much I love. Just now I have\nbeen overset by A. B.'s article in the C. D.; yet really, my dear C.,\nI have never for an instant had even the temptation of repenting my\nleaving Oxford. The feeling of repentance has not even come into my\nmind. How could it? How could I remain at St. Mary's a hypocrite? how\ncould I be answerable for souls (and life so uncertain), with the\nconvictions, or at least persuasions, which I had upon me? It is\nindeed a responsibility to act as I am doing; and I feel His hand\nheavy on me without intermission, who is all Wisdom and Love, so that\nmy heart and mind are tired out, just as the limbs might be from\na load on one's back. That sort of dull aching pain is mine; but\nmy responsibility really is nothing to what it would be, to be\nanswerable for souls, for confiding loving souls, in the English\nChurch, with my convictions. My love to Marriott, and save me the\npain of sending him a line.\"\n\nIn July a bishop thought it worth while to give out to the world that\n\"the adherents of Mr. Newman are few in number. A short time will now\nprobably suffice to prove this fact. It is well known that he is\npreparing for secession; and, when that event takes place, it will be\nseen how few will go with him.\"\n\nAll this time I was hard at my essay on Doctrinal Development. As I\nadvanced, my view so cleared that instead of speaking any more of\n\"the Roman Catholics,\" I boldly called them Catholics. Before I got\nto the end, I resolved to be received, and the book remains in the\nstate in which it was then, unfinished.\n\nOn October 8th I wrote to a number of friends the following letter:--\n\n\"Littlemore, October 8, 1845. I am this night expecting Father\nDominic, the Passionist, who, from his youth, has been led to have\ndistinct and direct thoughts, first of the countries of the North,\nthen of England. After thirty years' (almost) waiting, he was without\nhis own act sent here. But he has had little to do with conversions.\nI saw him here for a few minutes on St. John Baptist's day last year.\nHe does not know of my intention; but I mean to ask of him admission\ninto the one Fold of Christ....\n\n\"I have so many letters to write, that this must do for all who\nchoose to ask about me. With my best love to dear Charles Marriott,\nwho is over your head, etc., etc.\n\n\"P.S. This will not go till all is over. Of course it requires no\nanswer.\"\n\n\nFor a while after my reception, I proposed to betake myself to some\nsecular calling. I wrote thus in answer to a very gracious letter of\ncongratulation:--\n\n\"Nov. 25, 1845. I hope you will have anticipated, before I express\nit, the great gratification which I received from your Eminence's\nletter. That gratification, however, was tempered by the\napprehension, that kind and anxious well-wishers at a distance attach\nmore importance to my step than really belongs to it. To me indeed\npersonally it is of course an inestimable gain; but persons and\nthings look great at a distance, which are not so when seen close;\nand, did your Eminence know me, you would see that I was one, about\nwhom there has been far more talk for good and bad than he deserves,\nand about whose movements far more expectation has been raised than\nthe event will justify.\n\n\"As I never, I do trust, aimed at anything else than obedience to my\nown sense of right, and have been magnified into the leader of a\nparty without my wishing it or acting as such, so now, much as I may\nwish to the contrary, and earnestly as I may labour (as is my duty)\nto minister in a humble way to the Catholic Church, yet my powers\nwill, I fear, disappoint the expectations of both my own friends, and\nof those who pray for the peace of Jerusalem.\n\n\"If I might ask of your Eminence a favour, it is that you would\nkindly moderate those anticipations. Would it were in my power to do,\nwhat I do not aspire to do! At present certainly I cannot look\nforward to the future, and, though it would be a good work if I could\npersuade others to do as I have done, yet it seems as if I had quite\nenough to do in thinking of myself.\"\n\nSoon, Dr. Wiseman, in whose vicariate Oxford lay, called me to\nOscott; and I went there with others; afterwards he sent me to Rome,\nand finally placed me in Birmingham.\n\nI wrote to a friend:--\n\n\"January 20, 1846. You may think how lonely I am. 'Obliviscere\npopulum tuum et domum patris tui,' has been in my ears for the last\ntwelve hours. I realise more that we are leaving Littlemore, and it\nis like going on the open sea.\"\n\nI left Oxford for good on Monday, February 23, 1846. On the Saturday\nand Sunday before, I was in my house at Littlemore simply by myself,\nas I had been for the first day or two when I had originally taken\npossession of it. I slept on Sunday night at my dear friend's, Mr.\nJohnson's, at the Observatory. Various friends came to see the last\nof me; Mr. Copeland, Mr. Church, Mr. Buckle, Mr. Pattison, and Mr.\nLewis. Dr. Pusey too came up to take leave of me; and I called on Dr.\nOgle, one of my very oldest friends, for he was my private tutor when\nI was an undergraduate. In him I took leave of my first college,\nTrinity, which was so dear to me, and which held on its foundation so\nmany who have been kind to me both when I was a boy, and all through\nmy Oxford life. Trinity had never been unkind to me. There used to be\nmuch snapdragon growing on the walls opposite my freshman's rooms\nthere, and I had for years taken it as the emblem of my own perpetual\nresidence even unto death in my University.\n\nOn the morning of the 23rd I left the observatory. I have never seen\nOxford since, excepting its spires, as they are seen from the\nrailway.\n\nFootnotes\n\n[3] As I am not writing controversially, I will only here remark upon\nthis argument, that there is a great difference between a command,\nwhich implies physical conditions, and one which is moral. To go to\nJerusalem was a matter of the body, not of the soul.\n\n[4] I cannot prove this at this distance of time; but I do not think it\nwrong to introduce here the passage containing it, as I am imputing\nto the Bishop nothing which the world would think disgraceful, but,\non the contrary, what a large religious body would approve.\n\n[5] On this subject, _vid_. my third lecture on \"Anglican\nDifficulties.\"\n\n\n\n\nPart VII\n\nGeneral answer to Mr. Kingsley\n\n\nFrom the time that I became a Catholic, of course I have no further\nhistory of my religious opinions to narrate. In saying this, I do not\nmean to say that my mind has been idle, or that I have given up\nthinking on theological subjects; but that I have had no changes to\nrecord, and have had no anxiety of heart whatever. I have been in\nperfect peace and contentment. I never have had one doubt. I was\nnot conscious to myself, on my conversion, of any difference of\nthought or of temper from what I had before. I was not conscious of\nfirmer faith in the fundamental truths of revelation, or of more\nself-command; I had not more fervour; but it was like coming into\nport after a rough sea; and my happiness on that score remains to\nthis day without interruption.\n\nNor had I any trouble about receiving those additional articles,\nwhich are not found in the Anglican Creed. Some of them I believed\nalready, but not any one of them was a trial to me. I made a\nprofession of them upon my reception with the greatest ease, and I\nhave the same ease in believing them now. I am far of course from\ndenying that every article of the Christian Creed, whether as held by\nCatholics or by Protestants, is beset with intellectual difficulties;\nand it is simple fact, that, for myself, I cannot answer those\ndifficulties. Many persons are very sensitive of the difficulties of\nreligion; I am as sensitive as any one; but I have never been able to\nsee a connection between apprehending those difficulties, however\nkeenly, and multiplying them to any extent, and doubting the\ndoctrines to which they are attached. Ten thousand difficulties do\nnot make one doubt, as I understand the subject; difficulty and\ndoubt are incommensurate. There of course may be difficulties in\nthe evidence; but I am speaking of difficulties intrinsic to the\ndoctrines, or to their compatibility with each other. A man may be\nannoyed that he cannot work out a mathematical problem, of which the\nanswer is or is not given to him, without doubting that it admits of\nan answer, or that a particular answer is the true one. Of all points\nof faith, the being of a God is, to my own apprehension, encompassed\nwith most difficulty, and borne in upon our minds with most power.\n\nPeople say that the doctrine of Transubstantiation is difficult to\nbelieve; I did not believe the doctrine till I was a Catholic. I had\nno difficulty in believing it as soon as I believed that the Catholic\nRoman Church was the oracle of God, and that she had declared this\ndoctrine to be part of the original revelation. It is difficult,\nimpossible to imagine, I grant--but how is it difficult to believe?\nYet Macaulay thought it so difficult to believe, that he had need of\na believer in it of talents as eminent as Sir Thomas More, before he\ncould bring himself to conceive that the Catholics of an enlightened\nage could resist \"the overwhelming force of the argument against it.\"\n\"Sir Thomas More,\" he says, \"is one of the choice specimens of wisdom\nand virtue; and the doctrine of transubstantiation is a kind of proof\ncharge. A faith which stands that test, will stand any test.\" But for\nmyself, I cannot indeed prove it, I cannot tell _how_ it is; but I\nsay, \"Why should it not be? What's to hinder it? What do I know of\nsubstance or matter? just as much as the greatest philosophers, and\nthat is nothing at all;\"--so much is this the case, that there is a\nrising school of philosophy now, which considers phenomena to\nconstitute the whole of our knowledge in physics. The Catholic\ndoctrine leaves phenomena alone. It does not say that the phenomena\ngo; on the contrary, it says that they remain: nor does it say that\nthe same phenomena are in several places at once. It deals with what\nno one on earth knows anything about, the material substances\nthemselves. And, in like manner, of that majestic article of the\nAnglican as well as of the Catholic Creed--the doctrine of the\nTrinity in Unity. What do I know of the essence of the Divine Being?\nI know that my abstract idea of three is simply incompatible with my\nidea of one; but when I come to the question of concrete fact, I have\nno means of proving that there is not a sense in which one and three\ncan equally be predicated of the Incommunicable God.\n\nBut I am going to take upon myself the responsibility of more than\nthe mere creed of the Church; as the parties accusing me are\ndetermined I shall do. They say, that now, in that I am a Catholic,\nthough I may not have offences of my own against honesty to answer\nfor, yet, at least, I am answerable for the offences of others, of my\nco-religionists, of my brother priests, of the Church herself. I am\nquite willing to accept the responsibility; and, as I have been able,\nas I trust, by means of a few words, to dissipate, in the minds of\nall those who do not begin with disbelieving me, the suspicion with\nwhich so many Protestants start, in forming their judgment of\nCatholics, viz. that our creed is actually set up in inevitable\nsuperstition and hypocrisy, as the original sin of Catholicism; so\nnow I will go on, as before, identifying myself with the Church and\nvindicating it--not of course denying the enormous mass of sin and\nignorance which exists of necessity in that world-wide multiform\ncommunion--but going to the proof of this one point, that its system\nis in no sense dishonest, and that therefore the upholders and\nteachers of that system, as such, have a claim to be acquitted in\ntheir own persons of that odious imputation.\n\n\nStarting then with the being of a God (which, as I have said, is as\ncertain to me as the certainty of my own existence, though when I try\nto put the grounds of that certainty into logical shape I find a\ndifficulty in doing so in mood and figure to my satisfaction), I look\nout of myself into the world of men, and there I see a sight which\nfills me with unspeakable distress. The world seems simply to give\nthe lie to that great truth, of which my whole being is so full; and\nthe effect upon me is, in consequence, as a matter of necessity, as\nconfusing as if it denied that I am in existence myself. If I looked\ninto a mirror, and did not see my face, I should have the sort of\nfeeling which actually comes upon me, when I look into this living\nbusy world, and see no reflexion of its Creator. This is, to me, one\nof the great difficulties of this absolute primary truth, to which I\nreferred just now. Were it not for this voice, speaking so clearly in\nmy conscience and my heart, I should be an atheist, or a pantheist,\nor a polytheist when I looked into the world. I am speaking for\nmyself only; and I am far from denying the real force of the\narguments in proof of a God, drawn from the general facts of human\nsociety, but these do not warm me or enlighten me; they do not take\naway the winter of my desolation, or make the buds unfold and the\nleaves grow within me, and my moral being rejoice. The sight of the\nworld is nothing else than the prophet's scroll, full of\n\"lamentations, and mourning, and woe.\"\n\nTo consider the world in its length and breadth, its various history,\nthe many races of man, their starts, their fortunes, their mutual\nalienation, their conflicts; and then their ways, habits,\ngovernments, forms of worship; their enterprises, their aimless\ncourses, their random achievements and acquirements, the impotent\nconclusion of long-standing facts, the tokens so faint and broken,\nof a superintending design, the blind evolution of what turn out\nto be great powers or truths, the progress of things, as if from\nunreasoning elements, not towards final causes, the greatness and\nlittleness of man, his far-reaching aims, his short duration, the\ncurtain hung over his futurity, the disappointments of life, the\ndefeat of good, the success of evil, physical pain, mental anguish,\nthe prevalence and intensity of sin, the pervading idolatries, the\ncorruptions, the dreary hopeless irreligion, that condition of the\nwhole race, so fearfully yet exactly described in the Apostle's\nwords, \"having no hope and without God in the world,\"--all this is a\nvision to dizzy and appal; and inflicts upon the mind the sense of a\nprofound mystery, which is absolutely beyond human solution.\n\nWhat shall be said to this heart-piercing, reason-bewildering fact? I\ncan only answer, that either there is no Creator, or this living\nsociety of men is in a true sense discarded from His presence. Did I\nsee a boy of good make and mind, with the tokens on him of a refined\nnature, cast upon the world without provision, unable to say whence\nhe came, his birthplace or his family connections, I should conclude\nthat there was some mystery connected with his history, and that he\nwas one, of whom, from one cause or other, his parents were ashamed.\nThus only should I be able to account for the contrast between the\npromise and condition of his being. And so I argue about the\nworld;--_if_ there be a God, _since_ there is a God, the human race\nis implicated in some terrible aboriginal calamity. It is out of\njoint with the purposes of its Creator. This is a fact, a fact as\ntrue as the fact of its existence; and thus the doctrine of what is\ntheologically called original sin becomes to me almost as certain as\nthat the world exists, and as the existence of God.\n\nAnd now, supposing it were the blessed and loving will of the Creator\nto interfere in this anarchical condition of things, what are we to\nsuppose would be the methods which might be necessarily or naturally\ninvolved in His object of mercy? Since the world is in so abnormal a\nstate, surely it would be no surprise to me, if the interposition\nwere of necessity equally extraordinary--or what is called\nmiraculous. But that subject does not directly come into the scope of\nmy present remarks. Miracles as evidence, involve an argument; and of\ncourse I am thinking of some means which does not immediately run\ninto argument. I am rather asking what must be the face-to-face\nantagonist, by which to withstand and baffle the fierce energy of\npassion and the all-corroding, all-dissolving scepticism of the\nintellect in religious inquiries? I have no intention at all to deny,\nthat truth is the real object of our reason, and that, if it does not\nattain to truth, either the premiss or the process is in fault; but I\nam not speaking of right reason, but of reason as it acts in fact and\nconcretely in fallen man. I know that even the unaided reason, when\ncorrectly exercised, leads to a belief in God, in the immortality of\nthe soul, and in a future retribution; but I am considering it\nactually and historically; and in this point of view, I do not think\nI am wrong in saying that its tendency is towards a simple unbelief\nin matters of religion. No truth, however sacred, can stand against\nit, in the long run; and hence it is that in the pagan world, when\nour Lord came, the last traces of the religious knowledge of former\ntimes were all but disappearing from those portions of the world in\nwhich the intellect had been active and had had a career.\n\nAnd in these latter days, in like manner, outside the Catholic Church\nthings are tending, with far greater rapidity than in that old time\nfrom the circumstance of the age, to atheism in one shape or other.\nWhat a scene, what a prospect, does the whole of Europe present at\nthis day! and not only Europe, but every government and every\ncivilization through the world, which is under the influence of the\nEuropean mind! Especially, for it most concerns us, how sorrowful, in\nthe view of religion, even taken in its most elementary, most\nattenuated form, is the spectacle presented to us by the educated\nintellect of England, France, and Germany! Lovers of their country\nand of their race, religious men, external to the Catholic Church,\nhave attempted various expedients to arrest fierce wilful human\nnature in its onward course, and to bring it into subjection. The\nnecessity of some form of religion for the interests of humanity, has\nbeen generally acknowledged: but where was the concrete\nrepresentative of things invisible, which would have the force and\nthe toughness necessary to be a breakwater against the deluge? Three\ncenturies ago the establishment of religion, material, legal, and\nsocial, was generally adopted as the best expedient for the purpose,\nin those countries which separated from the Catholic Church; and for\na long time it was successful; but now the crevices of those\nestablishments are admitting the enemy. Thirty years ago, education\nwas relied upon: ten years ago there was a hope that wars would cease\nfor ever, under the influence of commercial enterprise and the reign\nof the useful and fine arts; but will any one venture to say that\nthere is anything anywhere on this earth, which will afford a fulcrum\nfor us, whereby to keep the earth from moving onwards?\n\nThe judgment, which experience passes on establishments or education,\nas a means of maintaining religious truth in this anarchical world,\nmust be extended even to Scripture, though Scripture be divine.\nExperience proves surely that the Bible does not answer a purpose,\nfor which it was never intended. It may be accidentally the means of\nthe conversion of individuals; but a book, after all, cannot make a\nstand against the wild living intellect of man, and in this day it\nbegins to testify, as regards its own structure and contents, to the\npower of that universal solvent, which is so successfully acting upon\nreligious establishments.\n\nSupposing then it to be the Will of the Creator to interfere in human\naffairs, and to make provisions for retaining in the world a\nknowledge of Himself, so definite and distinct as to be proof against\nthe energy of human scepticism, in such a case--I am far from saying\nthat there was no other way--but there is nothing to surprise the\nmind, if He should think fit to introduce a power into the world,\ninvested with the prerogative of infallibility in religious matters.\nSuch a provision would be a direct, immediate, active, and prompt\nmeans of withstanding the difficulty; it would be an instrument\nsuited to the need; and, when I find that this is the very claim of\nthe Catholic Church, not only do I feel no difficulty in admitting\nthe idea, but there is a fitness in it, which recommends it to my\nmind. And thus I am brought to speak of the Church's infallibility,\nas a provision, adapted by the mercy of the Creator, to preserve\nreligion in the world, and to restrain that freedom of thought, which\nof course in itself is one of the greatest of our natural gifts, and\nto rescue it from its own suicidal excesses. And let it be observed\nthat, neither here nor in what follows, shall I have occasion to\nspeak directly of the revealed body of truths, but only as they bear\nupon the defence of natural religion. I say, that a power, possessed\nof infallibility in religious teaching, is happily adapted to be\na working instrument, in the course of human affairs, for smiting\nhard and throwing back the immense energy of the aggressive\nintellect:--and in saying this, as in the other things that I have to\nsay, it must still be recollected that I am all along bearing in mind\nmy main purpose, which is a defence of myself.\n\nI am defending myself here from a plausible charge brought against\nCatholics, as will be seen better as I proceed. The charge is\nthis:--that I, as a Catholic, not only make profession to hold\ndoctrines which I cannot possibly believe in my heart, but that I\nalso believe in the existence of a power on earth, which at its own\nwill imposes upon men any new set of _credenda_, when it pleases, by\na claim to infallibility; in consequence, that my own thoughts are\nnot my own property; that I cannot tell that tomorrow I may not have\nto give up what I hold today, and that the necessary effect of such\na condition of mind must be a degrading bondage, or a bitter inward\nrebellion relieving itself in secret infidelity, or the necessity of\nignoring the whole subject of religion in a sort of disgust, and of\nmechanically saying everything that the Church says, and leaving to\nothers the defence of it. As then I have above spoken of the relation\nof my mind towards the Catholic Creed, so now I shall speak of the\nattitude which it takes up in the view of the Church's infallibility.\n\nAnd first, the initial doctrine of the infallible teacher must be an\nemphatic protest against the existing state of mankind. Man had\nrebelled against his Maker. It was this that caused the divine\ninterposition: and the first act of the divinely accredited messenger\nmust be to proclaim it. The Church must denounce rebellion as of all\npossible evils the greatest. She must have no terms with it; if she\nwould be true to her Master, she must ban and anathematise it. This\nis the meaning of a statement which has furnished matter for one of\nthose special accusations to which I am at present replying: I have,\nhowever, no fault at all to confess in regard to it; I have nothing\nto withdraw, and in consequence I here deliberately repeat it. I\nsaid, \"The Catholic Church holds it better for the sun and moon to\ndrop from heaven, for the earth to fail, and for all the many\nmillions on it to die of starvation in extremest agony, as far as\ntemporal affliction goes, than that one soul, I will not say, should\nbe lost, but should commit one single venial sin, should tell one\nwilful untruth, or should steal one poor farthing without excuse.\" I\nthink the principle here enunciated to be the mere preamble in the\nformal credentials of the Catholic Church, as an Act of Parliament\nmight begin with a \"_Whereas_.\" It is because of the intensity of the\nevil which has possession of mankind, that a suitable antagonist\nhas been provided against it; and the initial act of that\ndivinely-commissioned power is of course to deliver her challenge\nand to defy the enemy. Such a preamble then gives a meaning to her\nposition in the world, and an interpretation to her whole course of\nteaching and action.\n\nIn like manner she has ever put forth, with most energetic\ndistinctness, those other great elementary truths, which either are\nan explanation of her mission or give a character to her work. She\ndoes not teach that human nature is irreclaimable, else wherefore\nshould she be sent? not that it is to be shattered and reversed, but\nto be extricated, purified, and restored; not that it is a mere mass\nof evil, but that it has the promise of great things, and even now\nhas a virtue and a praise proper to itself. But in the next place\nshe knows and she preaches that such a restoration, as she aims at\neffecting in it, must be brought about, not simply through any\noutward provision of preaching and teaching, even though it be her\nown, but from a certain inward spiritual power or grace imparted\ndirectly from above, and which is in her keeping. She has it in\ncharge to rescue human nature from its misery, but not simply by\nraising it upon its own level, but by lifting it up to a higher level\nthan its own. She recognises in it real moral excellence though\ndegraded, but she cannot set it free from earth except by exalting it\ntowards heaven. It was for this end that a renovating grace was put\ninto her hands, and therefore from the nature of the gift, as well as\nfrom the reasonableness of the case, she goes on, as a further point,\nto insist, that all true conversion must begin with the first springs\nof thought, and to teach that each individual man must be in his own\nperson one whole and perfect temple of God, while he is also one of\nthe living stones which build up a visible religious community. And\nthus the distinctions between nature and grace, and between outward\nand inward religion, become two further articles in what I have\ncalled the preamble of her divine commission.\n\nSuch truths as these she vigorously reiterates, and pertinaciously\ninflicts upon mankind; as to such she observes no half-measures, no\neconomical reserve, no delicacy or prudence. \"Ye must be born again,\"\nis the simple, direct form of words which she uses after her Divine\nMaster; \"your whole nature must be re-born, your passions, and your\naffections, and your aims, and your conscience, and your will, must\nall be bathed in a new element, and reconsecrated to your Maker, and,\nthe last not the least, your intellect.\" It was for repeating these\npoints of her teaching in my own way, that certain passages of one of\nmy volumes have been brought into the general accusation which has\nbeen made against my religious opinions. The writer has said that I\nwas demented if I believed, and unprincipled if I did not believe, in\nmy statement that a lazy, ragged, filthy, story-telling beggar-woman,\nif chaste, sober, cheerful, and religious, had a prospect of heaven,\nwhich was absolutely closed to an accomplished statesman, or lawyer,\nor noble, be he ever so just, upright, generous, honourable, and\nconscientious, unless he had also some portion of the divine\nChristian grace; yet I should have thought myself defended from\ncriticism by the words which our Lord used to the chief priests,\n\"The publicans and harlots go into the kingdom of God before you.\"\nAnd I was subjected again to the same alternative of imputations,\nfor having ventured to say that consent to an unchaste wish was\nindefinitely more heinous than any lie viewed apart from its causes,\nits motives, and its consequences; though a lie, viewed under the\nlimitation of these conditions, is a random utterance, an almost\noutward act, not directly from the heart, however disgraceful it may\nbe, whereas we have the express words of our Lord to the doctrine\nthat \"whoso looketh on a woman to lust after her, hath committed\nadultery with her already in his heart.\" On the strength of these\ntexts I have surely as much right to believe in these doctrines\nas to believe in the doctrine of original sin, or that there is a\nsupernatural revelation, or that a Divine Person suffered, or that\npunishment is eternal.\n\nPassing now from what I have called the preamble of that grant of\npower, with which the Church is invested, to that power itself,\nInfallibility, I make two brief remarks: on the one hand, I am not\nhere determining anything about the essential seat of that power,\nbecause that is a question doctrinal, not historical and practical;\nnor, on the other hand, am I extending the direct subject-matter,\nover which that power has jurisdiction, beyond religious\nopinion:--and now as to the power itself.\n\nThis power, viewed in its fulness, is as tremendous as the giant evil\nwhich has called for it. It claims, when brought into exercise in the\nlegitimate manner, for otherwise of course it is but dormant, to have\nfor itself a sure guidance into the very meaning of every portion of\nthe divine message in detail, which was committed by our Lord to His\nApostles. It claims to know its own limits, and to decide what it can\ndetermine absolutely and what it cannot. It claims, moreover, to have\na hold upon statements not directly religious, so far as this, to\ndetermine whether they indirectly relate to religion, and, according\nto its own definitive judgment, to pronounce whether or not, in a\nparticular case, they are consistent with revealed truth. It claims\nto decide magisterially, whether infallibly or not, that such and\nsuch statements are or are not prejudicial to the apostolic\n_depositum_ of faith, in their spirit or in their consequences, and\nto allow them, or condemn and forbid them, accordingly. It claims to\nimpose silence at will on any matters, or controversies, of doctrine,\nwhich on its own _ipse dixit_, it pronounces to be dangerous,\nor inexpedient, or inopportune. It claims that whatever may be the\njudgment of Catholics upon such acts, these acts should be received\nby them with those outward marks of reverence, submission, and\nloyalty, which Englishmen, for instance, pay to the presence of their\nsovereign, without public criticism on them, as being in their matter\ninexpedient, or in their manner violent or harsh. And lastly, it\nclaims to have the right of inflicting spiritual punishment, of\ncutting off from the ordinary channels of the divine life, and of\nsimply excommunicating, those who refuse to submit themselves to its\nformal declarations. Such is the infallibility lodged in the Catholic\nChurch, viewed in the concrete, as clothed and surrounded by the\nappendages of its high sovereignty: it is, to repeat what I said\nabove, a supereminent prodigious power sent upon earth to encounter\nand master a giant evil.\n\nAnd now, having thus described it, I profess my own absolute\nsubmission to its claim. I believe the whole revealed dogma as taught\nby the apostles, as committed by the apostles to the Church, and\nas declared by the Church to me. I receive it, as it is infallibly\ninterpreted by the authority to whom it is thus committed, and\n(implicitly) as it shall be, in like manner, further interpreted by\nthat same authority till the end of time. I submit, moreover, to the\nuniversally received traditions of the Church, in which lies the\nmatter of those new dogmatic definitions which are from time to time\nmade, and which in all times are the clothing and the illustration of\nthe Catholic dogma as already defined. And I submit myself to those\nother decisions of the holy see, theological or not, through the\norgans which it has itself appointed, which, waiving the question of\ntheir infallibility, on the lowest ground come to me with a claim to\nbe accepted and obeyed. Also, I consider that, gradually and in the\ncourse of ages, Catholic inquiry has taken certain definite shapes,\nand has thrown itself into the form of a science, with a method and\na phraseology of its own, under the intellectual handling of great\nminds, such as St. Athanasius, St. Augustine, and St. Thomas; and\nI feel no temptation at all to break in pieces the great legacy of\nthought thus committed to us for these latter days.\n\nAll this being considered as the profession _ex animo_, as on my own\npart, so also on the part of the Catholic body, as far as I know it,\nit will at first sight be said that the restless intellect of our\ncommon humanity is utterly weighed down to the repression of all\nindependent effort and action whatever, so that, if this is to be the\nmode of bringing it into order, it is brought into order only to be\ndestroyed. But this is far from the result, far from what I conceive\nto be the intention of that high Providence who has provided a great\nremedy for a great evil--far from borne out by the history of the\nconflict between infallibility and reason in the past, and the\nprospect of it in the future. The energy of the human intellect \"does\nfrom opposition grow;\" it thrives and is joyous, with a tough elastic\nstrength, under the terrible blows of the divinely-fashioned weapon,\nand is never so much itself as when it has lately been overthrown. It\nis the custom with Protestant writers to consider that, whereas there\nare two great principles in action in the history of religion,\nAuthority and Private Judgment, they have all the Private Judgment to\nthemselves, and we have the full inheritance and the superincumbent\noppression of Authority. But this is not so; it is the vast Catholic\nbody itself, and it only, which affords an arena for both combatants\nin that awful, never-dying duel. It is necessary for the very life\nof religion, viewed in its large operations and its history, that\nthe warfare should be incessantly carried on. Every exercise of\nInfallibility is brought out into act by an intense and varied\noperation of the Reason, from within and without, and provokes again\na re-action of Reason against it; and, as in a civil polity the\nState exists and endures by means of the rivalry and collision, the\nencroachments and defeats of its constituent parts, so in like manner\nCatholic Christendom is no simple exhibition of religious absolutism,\nbut it presents a continuous picture of Authority and Private\nJudgment alternately advancing and retreating as the ebb and flow of\nthe tide;--it is a vast assemblage of human beings with wilful\nintellects and wild passions, brought together into one by the beauty\nand the majesty of a superhuman power--into what may be called a\nlarge reformatory or training-school, not to be sent to bed, not to\nbe buried alive, but for the melting, refining, and moulding, as in\nsome moral factory, by an incessant noisy process (if I may proceed\nto another metaphor), of the raw material of human nature, so\nexcellent, so dangerous, so capable of divine purposes.\n\nSt. Paul says in one place that his apostolical power is given him to\nedification, and not to destruction. There can be no better account\nof the Infallibility of the Church. It is a supply for a need, and it\ndoes not go beyond that need. Its object is, and its effect also,\nnot to enfeeble the freedom or vigour of human thought in religious\nspeculation, but to resist and control its extravagance. What have\nbeen its great works? All of them in the distinct province of\ntheology:--to put down Arianism, Eutychianism, Pelagianism,\nManichaeism, Lutheranism, Jansenism. Such is the broad result of its\naction in the past;--and now as to the securities which are given us\nthat so it ever will act in time to come.\n\nFirst, infallibility cannot act outside of a definite circle of\nthought, and it must in all its decisions, or _definitions_, as they\nare called, profess to be keeping within it. The great truths of the\nmoral law, of natural religion, and of apostolical faith, are both\nits boundary and its foundation. It must not go beyond them, and it\nmust ever appeal to them. Both its subject-matter, and its articles\nin that subject-matter, are fixed. Thus, in illustration, it does not\nextend to statements, however sound and evident, which are mere\nlogical conclusions from the articles of the apostolic _Depositum_;\nagain, it can pronounce nothing about the persons of heretics, whose\nworks fall within its legitimate province. It must ever profess\nto be guided by Scripture and by tradition. It must refer to the\nparticular apostolic truth which it is enforcing, or (what is called)\n_defining_. Nothing, then, can be presented to me, in time to come,\nas part of the faith, but what I ought already to have received, and\nhave not actually received, (if not) merely because it has not been\ntold me. Nothing can be imposed upon me different in kind from what I\nhold already--much less contrary to it. The new truth which is\npromulgated, if it is to be called new, must be at least homogeneous,\ncognate, implicit, viewed relatively to the old truth. It must be\nwhat I may even have guessed, or wished, to be included in the\napostolic revelation; and at least it will be of such a character,\nthat my thoughts readily concur in it or coalesce with it, as soon as\nI hear it. Perhaps I and others actually have always believed it, and\nthe only question which is now decided in my behalf, is that I am\nhenceforth to believe that I have only been holding what the apostles\nheld before me.\n\nLet me take the doctrine which Protestants consider our greatest\ndifficulty, that of the Immaculate Conception. Here I entreat\nthe reader to recollect my main drift, which is this. I have no\ndifficulty in receiving it: if _I_ have no difficulty, why may not\nanother have no difficulty also? why may not a hundred? a thousand?\nNow I am sure that Catholics in general have not any intellectual\ndifficulty at all on the subject of the Immaculate Conception; and\nthat there is no reason why they should. Priests have no difficulty.\nYou tell me that they _ought_ to have a difficulty;--but they have\nnot. Be large-minded enough to believe, that men may reason and feel\nvery differently from yourselves; how is it that men fall, when left\nto themselves, into such various forms of religion, except that there\nare various types of mind among them, very distinct from each other?\nFrom my testimony then about myself, if you believe it, judge of\nothers also who are Catholics: we do not find the difficulties which\nyou do in the doctrines which we hold; we have no intellectual\ndifficulty in that in particular, which you call a novelty of this\nday. We priests need not be hypocrites, though we be called upon to\nbelieve in the Immaculate Conception. To that large class of minds,\nwho believe in Christianity, after our manner,--in the particular\ntemper, spirit, and light (whatever word is used) in which Catholics\nbelieve it--there is no burden at all in holding that the Blessed\nVirgin was conceived without original sin; indeed, it is a simple\nfact to say, that Catholics have not come to believe it because it is\ndefined, but it was defined because they believed it.\n\nSo far from the definition in 1854 being a tyrannical infliction on\nthe Catholic world, it was received everywhere on its promulgation\nwith the greatest enthusiasm. It was in consequence of the unanimous\npetition, presented from all parts to the holy see, in behalf of a\ndeclaration that the doctrine was apostolic, that it was declared so\nto be. I never heard of one Catholic having difficulties in receiving\nit, whose faith on other grounds was not already suspicious. Of\ncourse there were grave and good men, who were made anxious by the\ndoubt whether it could be proved apostolical either by Scripture or\ntradition, and who accordingly, though believing it themselves, did\nnot see how it could be defined by authority; but this is another\nmatter. The point in question is, whether the doctrine is a burden.\nI believe it to be none. So far from it being so, I sincerely think\nthat St. Bernard and St. Thomas, who scrupled at it in their day, had\nthey lived into this, would have rejoiced to accept it for its own\nsake. Their difficulty, as I view it, consisted in matters of words,\nideas, and arguments. They thought the doctrine inconsistent with\nother doctrines; and those who defended it in that age had not that\nprecision in their view of it, which has been given to it by means of\nthe long controversy of the centuries which followed. And hence the\ndifference of opinion, and the controversy.\n\nNow the instance which I have been taking suggests another remark;\nthe number of those (so called) new doctrines will not oppress us,\nif it takes eight centuries to promulgate even one of them. Such is\nabout the length of time through which the preparation has been\ncarried on for the definition of the Immaculate Conception. This of\ncourse is an extraordinary case; but it is difficult to say what is\nordinary, considering how few are the formal occasions on which the\nvoice of infallibility has been solemnly lifted up. It is to the\nPope in ecumenical council that we look, as to the normal seat of\ninfallibility: now there have been only eighteen such councils since\nChristianity was--an average of one to a century--and of these\ncouncils some passed no doctrinal decree at all, others were employed\non only one, and many of them were concerned with only elementary\npoints of the Creed. The Council of Trent embraced a large field of\ndoctrine certainly; but I should apply to its canons a remark\ncontained in that University Sermon of mine, which has been so\nignorantly criticised in the pamphlet which has led to my writing;--I\nthere have said that the various verses of the Athanasian Creed are\nonly repetitions in various shapes of one and the same idea; and in\nlike manner, the Tridentine decrees are not isolated from each other,\nbut are occupied in bringing out in detail, by a number of separate\ndeclarations, as if into bodily form, a few necessary truths. I\nshould make the same remark on the various theses condemned by popes,\nand on their dogmatic decisions generally. I acknowledge that at\nfirst sight they seem from their number to be a greater burden to the\nfaith of individuals than are the canons of councils; still I do not\nbelieve in matter of fact that they are so at all, and I give this\nreason for it:--it is not that a Catholic, layman or priest, is\nindifferent to the subject, or, from a sort of recklessness, will\naccept anything that is placed before him, or is willing, like\na lawyer, to speak according to his brief, but that in such\ncondemnations the holy see is engaged, for the most part, in\nrepudiating one or two great lines of error, such as Lutheranism or\nJansenism, principally ethical not doctrinal, which are foreign to\nthe Catholic mind, and that it is expressing what any good Catholic,\nof fair abilities, though unlearned, would say himself, from common\nand sound sense, if the matter could be put before him.\n\nNow I will go on in fairness to say what I think _is_ the great trial\nto the reason, when confronted with that august prerogative of the\nCatholic Church, of which I have been speaking. I enlarged just now\nupon the concrete shape and circumstances, under which pure\ninfallible authority presents itself to the Catholic. That authority\nhas the prerogative of an indirect jurisdiction on subject-matters\nwhich lie beyond its own proper limits, and it most reasonably has\nsuch a jurisdiction. It could not act in its own province, unless it\nhad a right to act out of it. It could not properly defend religious\ntruth, without claiming for it what may be called its _pomoeria_;\nor, to take another illustration, without acting as we act, as a\nnation, in claiming as our own, not only the land on which we live,\nbut what are called British waters. The Catholic Church claims, not\nonly to judge infallibly on religious questions, but to animadvert on\nopinions in secular matters which bear upon religion, on matters of\nphilosophy, of science, of literature, of history, and it demands our\nsubmission to her claim. It claims to censure books, to silence\nauthors, and to forbid discussions. In all this it does not so much\nspeak doctrinally, as enforce measures of discipline. It must of\ncourse be obeyed without a word, and perhaps in process of time it\nwill tacitly recede from its own injunctions. In such cases the\nquestion of faith does not come in; for what is matter of faith is\ntrue for all times, and never can be unsaid. Nor does it at all\nfollow, because there is a gift of infallibility in the Catholic\nChurch, that therefore the power in possession of it is in all its\nproceedings infallible. \"O, it is excellent,\" says the poet, \"to have\na giant's strength, but tyrannous, to use it like a giant.\" I think\nhistory supplies us with instances in the Church, where legitimate\npower has been harshly used. To make such admission is no more than\nsaying that the divine treasure, in the words of the apostle, is \"in\nearthen vessels;\" nor does it follow that the substance of the acts\nof the ruling power is not right and expedient, because its manner\nmay have been faulty. Such high authorities act by means of\ninstruments; we know how such instruments claim for themselves the\nname of their principals, who thus get the credit of faults which\nreally are not theirs. But granting all this to an extent greater\nthan can with any show of reason be imputed to the ruling power in\nthe Church, what is there in this want of prudence or moderation more\nthan can be urged, with far greater justice, against Protestant\ncommunities and institutions? What is there in it to make us\nhypocrites, if it has not that effect upon Protestants? We are called\nupon, not to profess anything, but to submit and be silent. Such\ninjunctions as I have supposed are laid merely upon our actions, not\nupon our thoughts. How, for instance, does it tend to make a man a\nhypocrite, to be forbidden to publish a libel? his thoughts are as\nfree as before: authoritative prohibitions may tease and irritate,\nbut they have no bearing whatever upon the exercise of reason.\n\nSo much at first sight; but I will go on to say further, that,\nin spite of all that the most hostile critic may say upon the\nencroachments or severities of high ecclesiastics, in times past, in\nthe use of their power, I think that the event has shown after all,\nthat they were mainly in the right, and that those whom they were\nhard upon mainly in the wrong. I love, for instance, the name of\nOrigen: I will not listen to the notion that so great a soul was\nlost; but I am quite sure that, in the contest between his doctrine\nand his followers and ecclesiastical power, his opponents were right,\nand he was wrong. Yet who can speak with patience of his enemy\nand the enemy of St. John Chrysostom, that Theophilus, bishop of\nAlexandria? who can admire or revere Pope Vigilius? And here\nanother consideration presents itself to my thoughts. In reading\necclesiastical history, when I was an Anglican, it used to be\nforcibly brought home to me, how the initial error of what afterwards\nbecame heresy was the urging forward some truth against the\nprohibition of authority at an unseasonable time. There is a time for\neverything, and many a man desires a reformation of an abuse, or the\nfuller development of a doctrine, or the adoption of a particular\npolicy, but forgets to ask himself whether the right time for it is\ncome; and, knowing that there is no one who will do anything towards\nit in his own lifetime unless he does it himself, he will not listen\nto the voice of authority, and spoils a good work in his own century,\nthat another man, as yet unborn, may not bring it happily to\nperfection in the next. He may seem to the world to be nothing else\nthan a bold champion for the truth and a martyr to free opinion, when\nhe is just one of those persons whom the competent authority ought to\nsilence, and, though the case may not fall within that subject-matter\nin which it is infallible, or the formal conditions of the exercise\nof that gift may be wanting, it is clearly the duty of authority to\nact vigorously in the case. Yet that act will go down to posterity as\nan instance of a tyrannical interference with private judgment, and\nof the silencing of a reformer, and of a base love of corruption or\nerror; and it will show still less to advantage, if the ruling power\nhappens in its proceedings to act with any defect of prudence or\nconsideration. And all those who take the part of that ruling\nauthority will be considered as time-servers, or indifferent to the\ncause of uprightness and truth; while, on the other hand, the said\nauthority may be supported by a violent ultra party, which exalts\nopinions into dogmas, and has it principally at heart to destroy\nevery school of thought but its own.\n\nSuch a state of things may be provoking and discouraging at the time,\nin the case of two classes of persons; of moderate men who wish to\nmake differences in religious opinion as little as they fairly can\nbe made; and of such as keenly perceive, and are honestly eager to\nremedy, existing evils--evils, of which divines in this or that\nforeign country know nothing at all, and which even at home it is not\nevery one who has the means of estimating. This is a state of things\nboth of past time and of the present. We live in a wonderful age; the\nenlargement of the circle of secular knowledge just now is simply\na bewilderment, and the more so, because it has the promise of\ncontinuing, and that with greater rapidity, and more signal results.\nNow these discoveries, certain or probable, have in matter of fact an\nindirect bearing upon religious opinions, and the question arises how\nare the respective claims of revelation and of natural science to be\nadjusted. Few minds in earnest can remain at ease without some sort\nof rational grounds for their religious belief; to reconcile theory\nand fact is almost an instinct of the mind. When then a flood of\nfacts, ascertained or suspected, comes pouring in upon us, with a\nmultitude of others in prospect, all believers in revelation, be\nthey Catholic or not, are roused to consider their bearing upon\nthemselves, both for the honour of God, and from tenderness for those\nmany souls who, in consequence of the confident tone of the schools\nof secular knowledge, are in danger of being led away into a\nbottomless liberalism of thought.\n\nI am not going to criticise here that vast body of men, in the mass,\nwho at this time would profess to be liberals in religion; and who\nlook towards the discoveries of the age, certain or in progress, as\ntheir informants, direct or indirect, as to what they shall think\nabout the unseen and the future. The Liberalism which gives a colour\nto society now, is very different from that character of thought\nwhich bore the name thirty or forty years ago. It is scarcely now a\nparty; it is the educated lay world. When I was young, I knew the\nword first as giving name to a periodical, set up by Lord Byron and\nothers. Now, as then, I have no sympathy with the philosophy of\nByron. Afterwards, Liberalism was the badge of a theological school,\nof a dry and repulsive character, not very dangerous in itself,\nthough dangerous as opening the door to evils which it did not itself\neither anticipate or comprehend. Now it is nothing else than that\ndeep, plausible scepticism, of which I spoke above, as being the\ndevelopment of human reason, as practically exercised by the natural\nman.\n\nThe Liberal religionists of this day are a very mixed body, and\ntherefore I am not intending to speak against them. There may be, and\ndoubtless is, in the hearts of some or many of them a real antipathy\nor anger against revealed truth, which it is distressing to think of.\nAgain; in many men of science or literature there may be an animosity\narising from almost a personal feeling; it being a matter of party, a\npoint of honour, the excitement of a game, or a consequence of\nsoreness or annoyance occasioned by the acrimony or narrowness of\napologists for religion, to prove that Christianity or that Scripture\nis untrustworthy. Many scientific and literary men, on the other\nhand, go on, I am confident, in a straightforward impartial way, in\ntheir own province and on their own line of thought, without any\ndisturbance from religious opinion in themselves, or any wish at all\nto give pain to others by the result of their investigations. It\nwould ill become me, as if I were afraid of truth of any kind, to\nblame those who pursue secular facts, by means of the reason which\nGod has given them, to their logical conclusions: or to be angry with\nscience because religion is bound to take cognizance of its teaching.\nBut putting these particular classes of men aside, as having no\nspecial call on the sympathy of the Catholic, of course he does most\ndeeply enter into the feelings of a fourth and large class of men, in\nthe educated portions of society, of religious and sincere minds, who\nare simply perplexed--frightened or rendered desperate, as the case\nmay be--by the utter confusion into which late discoveries or\nspeculations have thrown their most elementary ideas of religion. Who\ndoes not feel for such men? who can have one unkind thought of them?\nI take up  St. Augustine's beautiful words, \"Illi in vos saeviant,\"\netc. Let them be fierce with you who have no experience of the\ndifficulty with which error is discriminated from truth, and the way\nof life is found amid the illusions of the world. How many Catholics\nhave in their thoughts followed such men, many of them so good, so\ntrue, so noble! how often has the wish risen in their hearts that\nsome one from among themselves should come forward as the champion of\nrevealed truth against its opponents! Various persons, Catholic and\nProtestant, have asked me to do so myself; but I had several strong\ndifficulties in the way. One of the greatest is this, that at the\nmoment it is so difficult to say precisely what it is that is to be\nencountered and overthrown. I am far from denying that scientific\nknowledge is really growing, but it is by fits and starts; hypotheses\nrise and fall; it is difficult to anticipate which will keep their\nground, and what the state of knowledge in relation to them will be\nfrom year to year. In this condition of things, it has seemed to me\nto be very undignified for a Catholic to commit himself to the work\nof chasing what might turn out to be phantoms, and in behalf of some\nspecial objections, to be ingenious in devising a theory, which,\nbefore it was completed, might have to give place to some theory\nnewer still, from the fact that those former objections had already\ncome to nought under the uprising of others. It seemed to be a time\nof all others, in which Christians had a call to be patient, in which\nthey had no other way of helping those who were alarmed, than that of\nexhorting them to have a little faith and fortitude, and to \"beware,\"\nas the poet says, \"of dangerous steps.\" This seemed so clear to me,\nthe more I thought, as to make me surmise, that, if I attempted what\nhad so little promise in it, I should find that the highest Catholic\nauthority was against the attempt, and that I should have spent my\ntime and my thought, in doing what either it would be imprudent to\nbring before the public at all, or what, did I do so, would only\ncomplicate matters further which were already complicated more than\nenough. And I interpret recent acts of that authority as fulfilling\nmy expectation; I interpret them as tying the hands of a\ncontroversialist, such as I should be, and teaching us that true\nwisdom, which Moses inculcated on his people, when the Egyptians were\npursuing them, \"Fear ye not, stand still; the Lord shall fight for\nyou, and ye shall hold your peace.\" And so far from finding a\ndifficulty in obeying in this case, I have cause to be thankful and\nto rejoice to have so clear a direction in a matter of difficulty.\n\nBut if we would ascertain with correctness the real course of a\nprinciple, we must look at it at a certain distance, and as history\nrepresents it to us. Nothing carried on by human instruments, but has\nits irregularities, and affords ground for criticism, when minutely\nscrutinised in matters of detail. I have been speaking of that aspect\nof the action of an infallible authority, which is most open to\ninvidious criticism from those who view it from without; I have tried\nto be fair, in estimating what can be said to its disadvantage, as\nwitnessed in the Catholic Church, and now I wish its adversaries to\nbe equally fair in their judgment upon its historical character. Can,\nthen, the infallible authority, with any show of reason, be said in\nfact to have destroyed the energy of the intellect in the Catholic\nChurch? Let it be observed, I have not to speak of any conflict which\necclesiastical authority has had with science, for there has been\nnone such, because the secular sciences, as they now exist, are a\nnovelty in the world, and there has been no time yet for a history of\nrelations between theology and these new methods of knowledge, and\nindeed the Church may be said to have kept clear of them, as is\nproved by the constantly cited case of Galileo. Here \"exceptio probat\nregulam:\" for it is the one stock argument. Again, I have not to\nspeak of any relations of the Church to the new sciences, because my\nsimple question is whether the assumption of infallibility by the\nproper authority is adapted to make me a hypocrite, and till that\nauthority passes decrees on pure physical subjects and calls on me\nto subscribe them (which it never will do, because it has not the\npower), it has no tendency by its acts to interfere with my private\njudgment on those points. The simple question is whether authority\nhas so acted upon the reason of individuals, that they can have no\nopinion of their own, and have but an alternative of slavish\nsuperstition or secret rebellion of heart; and I think the whole\nhistory of theology puts an absolute negative upon such a\nsupposition. It is hardly necessary to argue out so plain a point. It\nis individuals, and not the holy see, who have taken the initiative,\nand given the lead to Catholic minds, in theological inquiry. Indeed,\nit is one of the reproaches urged against the Church of Rome, that it\nhas originated nothing, and has only served as a sort of _remora_ or\nbreak in the development of doctrine. And it is an objection which I\nembrace as a truth; for such I conceive to be the main purpose of its\nextraordinary gift. It is said, and truly, that the Church of Rome\npossessed no great mind in the whole period of persecution.\nAfterwards for a long while, it has not a single doctor to show; St.\nLeo, its first, is the teacher of one point of doctrine; St. Gregory,\nwho stands at the very extremity of the first age of the Church, has\nno place in dogma or philosophy. The great luminary of the western\nworld is, as we know, St. Augustine; he, no infallible teacher, has\nformed the intellect of Europe; indeed to the African Church\ngenerally we must look for the best early exposition of Latin ideas.\nThe case is the same as regards the ecumenical councils. Authority\nin its most imposing exhibition, grave bishops, laden with the\ntraditions and rivalries of particular nations or places, have been\nguided in their decisions by the commanding genius of individuals,\nsometimes young and of inferior rank. Not that uninspired intellect\noverruled the super-human gift which was committed to the council,\nwhich would be a self-contradictory assertion, but that in that\nprocess of inquiry and deliberation, which ended in an infallible\nenunciation, individual reason was paramount. Thus the writings of\nSt. Bonaventura, and, what is more to the point, the address of a\npriest and theologian, Salmeron, at Trent, had a critical effect on\nsome of the definitions of dogmas. Parallel to this is the influence,\nso well known, of a young deacon, St. Athanasius, with the 318\nFathers at Nicaea. In like manner we hear of the influence of St.\nAnselm at Bari, and St. Thomas at Lyons. In the latter cases the\ninfluence might be partly moral, but in the former it was that of a\ndiscursive knowledge of ecclesiastical writers, a scientific\nacquaintance with theology, and a force of thought in the treatment\nof doctrine.\n\nThere are of course intellectual habits which theology does not\ntend to form, as for instance the experimental, and again the\nphilosophical; but that is because it _is_ theology, not because of\nthe gift of infallibility. But, as far as this goes, I think it could\nbe shown that physical science on the other hand, or mathematical,\naffords but an imperfect training for the intellect. I do not see\nthen how any objection about the narrowness of theology comes into\nour question, which simply is, whether the belief in an infallible\nauthority destroys the independence of the mind; and I consider that\nthe whole history of the Church, and especially the history of the\ntheological schools, gives a negative to the accusation. There never\nwas a time when the intellect of the educated class was more active,\nor rather more restless, than in the middle ages. And then again\nall through Church history from the first, how slow is authority\nin interfering! Perhaps a local teacher, or a doctor in some local\nschool, hazards a proposition, and a controversy ensues. It smoulders\nor burns in one place, no one interposing; Rome simply lets it alone.\nThen it comes before a Bishop; or some priest, or some professor in\nsome other seat of learning takes it up; and then there is a second\nstage of it. Then it comes before a University, and it may be\ncondemned by the theological faculty. So the controversy proceeds\nyear after year, and Rome is still silent. An appeal perhaps is next\nmade to a seat of authority inferior to Rome; and then at last after\na long while it comes before the supreme power. Meanwhile, the\nquestion has been ventilated and turned over and over again, and\nviewed on every side of it, and authority is called upon to pronounce\na decision, which has already been arrived at by reason. But even\nthen, perhaps the supreme authority hesitates to do so, and nothing\nis determined on the point for years; or so generally and vaguely,\nthat the whole controversy has to be gone through again, before it is\nultimately determined. It is manifest how a mode of proceeding, such\nas this, tends not only to the liberty, but to the courage, of the\nindividual theologian or controversialist. Many a man has ideas,\nwhich he hopes are true, and useful for his day, but he wishes to\nhave them discussed. He is willing or rather would be thankful to\ngive them up, if they can be proved to be erroneous or dangerous, and\nby means of controversy he obtains his end. He is answered, and he\nyields; or he finds that he is considered safe. He would not dare to\ndo this, if he knew an authority, which was supreme and final, was\nwatching every word he said, and made signs of assent or dissent to\neach sentence, as he uttered it. Then indeed he would be fighting, as\nthe Persian soldiers, under the lash, and the freedom of his\nintellect might truly be said to be beaten out of him. But this has\nnot been so:--I do not mean to say that, when controversies run high,\nin schools or even in small portions of the Church, an interposition\nmay not rightly take place; and again, questions may be of that\nurgent nature, that an appeal must, as a matter of duty, be made at\nonce to the highest authority in the Church; but, if we look into the\nhistory of controversy, we shall find, I think, the general run of\nthings to be such as I have represented it. Zosimus treated Pelagius\nand Coelestius with extreme forbearance; St. Gregory VII. was\nequally indulgent with Berengarius; by reason of the very power of\nthe popes they have commonly been slow and moderate in their use of\nit.\n\nAnd here again is a further shelter for the individual reason:--the\nmultitude of nations who are in the fold of the Church will be found\nto have acted for its protection, against any narrowness, if so,\nin the various authorities at Rome, with whom lies the practical\ndecision of controverted questions. How have the Greek traditions\nbeen respected and provided for in the later Ecumenical Councils, in\nspite of the countries that held them being in a state of schism!\nThere are important points of doctrine which have been (humanly\nspeaking) exempted from the infallible sentence, by the tenderness\nwith which its instruments, in framing it, have treated the opinions\nof particular places. Then, again, such national influences have a\nprovidential effect in moderating the bias which the local influences\nof Italy may exert upon the See of St. Peter. It stands to reason\nthat, as the Gallican Church has in it an element of France, so Rome\nmust have an element of Italy; and it is no prejudice to the zeal and\ndevotion with which we submit ourselves to the holy see to admit this\nplainly. It seems to me, as I have been saying, that Catholicity is\nnot only one of the notes of the Church, but, according to the divine\npurposes, one of its securities. I think it would be a very serious\nevil, which Divine Mercy avert! that the Church should be contracted\nin Europe within the range of particular nationalities. It is a great\nidea to introduce Latin civilization into America, and to improve\nthe Catholics there by the energy of French religion; but I trust\nthat all European races will have ever a place in the Church, and\nassuredly I think that the loss of the English, not to say the\nGerman element, in its composition has been a most serious evil.\nAnd certainly, if there is one consideration more than another which\nshould make us English grateful to Pius the Ninth, it is that, by\ngiving us a Church of our own, he has prepared the way for our own\nhabits of mind, our own manner of reasoning, our own tastes, and our\nown virtues, finding a place and thereby a sanctification, in the\nCatholic Church.\n\n\nThere is only one other subject, which I think it necessary to\nintroduce here, as bearing upon the vague suspicions which are\nattached in this country to the Catholic priesthood. It is one of\nwhich my accuser says much, the charge of reserve and economy. He\nfounds it in no slight degree on what I have said on the subject in\nmy History of the Arians, and in a note upon one of my sermons in\nwhich I refer to it. The principle of reserve is also advocated by an\nadmirable writer in two numbers of the Tracts for the Times.\n\nNow, as to the economy itself, I leave the greater part of what I\nhave to say to an Appendix. Here I will but say that it is founded\nupon the words of our Lord, \"Cast not your pearls before swine;\"\nand it was observed by the early Christians more or less in their\nintercourse with the heathen populations among whom they lived. In\nthe midst of the abominable idolatries and impurities of that fearful\ntime, they could not do otherwise. But the rule of the economy, at\nleast as I have explained and recommended it, did not go beyond (1)\nthe concealing the truth when we could do so without deceit, (2)\nstating it only partially, and (3) representing it under the nearest\nform possible to a learner or inquirer, when he could not possibly\nunderstand it exactly. I conceive that to draw angels with wings is\nan instance of the third of these economical modes; and to avoid the\nquestion, \"Do Christians believe in a Trinity?\" by answering, \"They\nbelieve in only one God,\" would be an instance of the second. As to\nthe first, it is hardly an economy, but comes under what is called\nthe \"Disciplina Arcani.\" The second and third economical modes\nClement calls _lying_; meaning that a partial truth is in some sense\na lie, and so also is a representative truth. And this, I think, is\nabout the long and the short of the ground of the accusation which\nhas been so violently urged against me, as being a patron of the\neconomy.\n\nOf late years I have come to think, as I believe most writers do,\nthat Clement meant more than I have said. I used to think he used the\nword \"lie\" as an hyperbole, but I now believe that he, as other early\nFathers, thought that, under certain circumstances, it was lawful\nto tell a lie. This doctrine I never maintained, though I used to\nthink, as I do now, that the theory of the subject is surrounded with\nconsiderable difficulty; and it is not strange that I should say so,\nconsidering that great English writers simply declare that in certain\nextreme cases, as to save life, honour, or even property, a lie is\nallowable. And thus I am brought to the direct question of truth, and\nthe truthfulness of Catholic priests generally in their dealings with\nthe world, as bearing on the general question of their honesty, and\ntheir internal belief in their religious professions.\n\n\nIt would answer no purpose, and it would be departing from the line\nof writing which I have been observing all along, if I entered into\nany formal discussion on the subject; what I shall do here, as I have\ndone in the foregoing pages, is to give my own testimony on the\nmatter in question, and there to leave it. Now first I will say,\nthat, when I became a Catholic, nothing struck me more at once than\nthe English out-spoken manner of the priests. It was the same at\nOscott, at Old Hall Green, at Ushaw; there was nothing of that\nsmoothness, or mannerism, which is commonly imputed to them, and they\nwere more natural and unaffected than many an Anglican clergyman. The\nmany years, which have passed since, have only confirmed my first\nimpression. I have ever found it in the priests of this Diocese; did\nI wish to point out a straightforward Englishman, I should instance\nthe Bishop, who has, to our great benefit, for so many years presided\nover it.\n\nAnd next, I was struck, when I had more opportunity of judging of the\nPriests, by the simple faith in the Catholic Creed and system of\nwhich they always gave evidence, and which they never seemed to feel,\nin any sense at all, to be a burden. And now that I have been in the\nChurch nineteen years, I cannot recollect hearing of a single\ninstance in England of an infidel priest. Of course there are men\nfrom time to time, who leave the Catholic Church for another\nreligion, but I am speaking of cases, when a man keeps a fair outside\nto the world and is a hollow hypocrite in his heart.\n\nI wonder that the self-devotion of our priests does not strike\nProtestants in this point of view. What do they gain by professing a\nCreed, in which, if my assailant is to be believed, they really do\nnot believe? What is their reward for committing themselves to a\nlife of self-restraint and toil, and after all to a premature and\nmiserable death? The Irish fever cut off between Liverpool and Leeds\nthirty priests and more, young men in the flower of their days, old\nmen who seemed entitled to some quiet time after their long toil.\nThere was a bishop cut off in the North; but what had a man of his\necclesiastical rank to do with the drudgery and danger of sick calls,\nexcept that Christian faith and charity constrained him? Priests\nvolunteered for the dangerous service. It was the same on the first\ncoming of the cholera, that mysterious awe-inspiring infliction.\nIf priests did not heartily believe in the Creed of the Church,\nthen I will say that the remark of the apostle had its fullest\nillustration:--\"If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are\nof all men most miserable.\" What could support a set of hypocrites in\nthe presence of a deadly disorder, one of them following another in\nlong order up the forlorn hope, and one after another perishing? And\nsuch, I may say, in its substance, is every mission-priest's life. He\nis ever ready to sacrifice himself for his people. Night and day,\nsick or well himself, in all weathers, off he is, on the news of a\nsick call. The fact of a parishioner dying without the sacraments\nthrough his fault is terrible to him; why terrible, if he has not a\ndeep absolute faith, which he acts upon with a free service?\nProtestants admire this, when they see it; but they do not seem to\nsee as clearly, that it excludes the very notion of hypocrisy.\n\nSometimes, when they reflect upon it, it leads them to remark on the\nwonderful discipline of the Catholic priesthood; they say that no\nChurch has so well ordered a clergy, and that in that respect it\nsurpasses their own; they wish they could have such exact discipline\namong themselves. But is it an excellence which can be purchased? is\nit a phenomenon which depends on nothing else than itself, or is it\nan effect which has a cause? You cannot buy devotion at a price. \"It\nhath never been heard of in the land of Chanaan, neither hath it been\nseen in Theman. The children of Agar, the merchants of Meran, none\nof these have known its way.\" What then is that wonderful charm,\nwhich makes a thousand men act all in one way, and infuses a prompt\nobedience to rule, as if they were under some stern military\ncompulsion? How difficult to find an answer, unless you will allow\nthe obvious one, that they believe intensely what they profess!\n\n\nI cannot think what it can be, in a day like this, which keeps up the\nprejudice of this Protestant country against us, unless it be the\nvague charges which are drawn from our books of moral theology; and\nwith a notice of the work in particular which my accuser especially\nthrows in our teeth, I shall in a very few words bring these\nobservations to a close.\n\nSt. Alfonso Liguori, it cannot be denied, lays down that an\nequivocation, that is, a play upon words, in which one sense is taken\nby the speaker, and another sense intended by him for the hearer, is\nallowable, if there is a just cause, that is, in a special case, and\nmay even be confirmed by an oath. I shall give my opinion on this\npoint as plainly as any Protestant can wish; and therefore I avow at\nonce that in this department of morality, much as I admire the high\npoints of the Italian character, I like the English character better;\nbut, in saying so, I am not, as will be seen, saying anything\ndisrespectful to St. Alfonso, who was a lover of truth, and whose\nintercession I trust I shall not lose, though, on the matter under\nconsideration, I follow other guidance in preference to his.\n\nNow I make this remark first:--great English authors, Jeremy Taylor,\nMilton, Paley, Johnson, men of very distinct schools of thought,\ndistinctly say, that under certain special circumstances it is\nallowable to tell a lie. Taylor says: \"To tell a lie for charity, to\nsave a man's life, the life of a friend, of a husband, of a prince,\nof a useful and a public person, hath not only been done at all\ntimes, but commended by great and wise and good men. Who would not\nsave his father's life, at the charge of a harmless lie, from\npersecutors or tyrants?\" Again, Milton says: \"What man in his senses\nwould deny, that there are those whom we have the best grounds for\nconsidering that we ought to deceive--as boys, madmen, the sick, the\nintoxicated, enemies, men in error, thieves? I would ask, by which of\nthe commandments is a lie forbidden? You will say, by the ninth.\nIf then my lie does not injure my neighbour, certainly it is not\nforbidden by this commandment.\" Paley says: \"There are falsehoods,\nwhich are not lies, that is, which are not criminal.\" Johnson: \"The\ngeneral rule is, that truth should never be violated; there must,\nhowever, be some exceptions. If, for instance, a murderer should ask\nyou which way a man is gone.\"\n\nNow, I am not using these instances as an _argumentum ad hominem_;\nbut this is the use to which I put them:--\n\n1. First, I have set down the distinct statements of Taylor, Milton,\nPaley, and Johnson; now, would any one give ever so little weight to\nthese statements, in forming a real estimate of the veracity of the\nwriters, if they now were alive? Were a man, who is so fierce with\nSt. Alfonso, to meet Paley or Johnson tomorrow in society, would he\nlook upon him as a liar, a knave, as dishonest and untrustworthy?\nI am sure he would not. Why then does he not deal out the same\nmeasure to Catholic priests? If a copy of Scavini, which speaks\nof equivocation as being in a just cause allowable, be found in\na student's room at Oscott, not Scavini himself, but the unhappy\nstudent, who has what a Protestant calls a bad book in his\npossession, is judged for life unworthy of credit. Are all Protestant\ntext-books at the University immaculate? Is it necessary to take for\ngospel every word of Aristotle's Ethics, or every assertion of Hey or\nBurnett on the Articles? Are text-books the ultimate authority, or\nare they manuals in the hands of a lecturer, and the groundwork of\nhis remarks? But, again, let us suppose, not the case of a student,\nor of a professor, but of Scavini himself, or of St. Alfonso; now\nhere again I ask, if you would not scruple in holding Paley for an\nhonest man, in spite of his defence of lying, why do you scruple at\nSt. Alfonso? I am perfectly sure that you would not scruple at Paley\npersonally; you might not agree with him, but you would call him a\nbold thinker: then why should St. Alfonso's person be odious to you,\nas well as his doctrine?\n\nNow I wish to tell you why you are not afraid of Paley; because, you\nwould say, when he advocated lying, he was taking _special cases_.\nYou would have no fear of a man who you knew had shot a burglar dead\nin his own house, because you know you are _not_ a burglar: so you\nwould not think that Paley had a habit of telling lies in society,\nbecause in the case of a cruel alternative he thought it the lesser\nevil to tell a lie. Then why do you show such suspicion of a\nCatholic theologian, who speaks of certain special cases in which an\nequivocation in a penitent cannot be visited by his confessor as if\nit were a sin? for this is the exact point of the question.\n\nBut again, why does Paley, why does Jeremy Taylor, when no practical\nmatter is before him, lay down a maxim about the lawfulness of lying,\nwhich will startle most readers? The reason is plain. He is forming a\ntheory of morals, and he must treat every question in turn as it\ncomes. And this is just what St. Alfonso or Scavini is doing. You\nonly try your hand yourself at a treatise on the rules of morality,\nand you will see how difficult the work is. What is the _definition_\nof a lie? Can you give a better than that it is a sin against\njustice, as Taylor and Paley consider it? but, if so, how can it be a\nsin at all, if your neighbour is not injured? If you do not like this\ndefinition, take another; and then, by means of that, perhaps you\nwill be defending St. Alfonso's equivocation. However, this is what I\ninsist upon; that St. Alfonso, as Paley, is considering the different\nportions of a large subject, and he must, on the subject of lying,\ngive his judgment, though on that subject it is difficult to form any\njudgment which is satisfactory.\n\nBut further still: you must not suppose that a philosopher or\nmoralist uses in his own case the licence which his theory itself\nwould allow him. A man in his own person is guided by his own\nconscience; but in drawing out a system of rules he is obliged to\ngo by logic, and follow the exact deduction of conclusion from\nconclusion, and be sure that the whole system is coherent and one.\nYou hear of even immoral or irreligious books being written by men of\ndecent character; there is a late writer who says that David Hume's\nsceptical works are not at all the picture of the man. A priest may\nwrite a treatise which would be called really lax on the subject of\nlying, which might come under the condemnation of the holy see, as\nsome treatises on that score have been condemned, and yet in his\nown person be a rigorist. And, in fact, it is notorious from St.\nAlfonso's Life, that he, who has the repute of being so lax a\nmoralist, had one of the most scrupulous and anxious of consciences\nhimself. Nay, further than this, he was originally in the Law, and on\none occasion he was betrayed into the commission of what seemed like\na deceit, though it was an accident; and that was the very occasion\nof his leaving the profession and embracing the religious life.\n\nThe account of this remarkable occurrence is told us in his Life:--\n\n\"Notwithstanding he had carefully examined over and over the details\nof the process, he was completely mistaken regarding the sense of one\ndocument, which constituted the right of the adverse party. The\nadvocate of the Grand Duke perceived the mistake, but he allowed\nAlfonso to continue his eloquent address to the end without\ninterruption; as soon, however, as he had finished, he rose, and said\nwith cutting coolness, 'Sir, the case is not exactly what you suppose\nit to be; if you will review the process, and examine this paper\nattentively, you will find there precisely the contrary of all you\nhave advanced.' 'Willingly,' replied Alfonso, without hesitating;\n'the decision depends on this question--whether the fief were granted\nunder the law of Lombardy, or under the French Law.' The paper being\nexamined, it was found that the Grand Duke's advocate was in the\nright. 'Yes,' said Alfonso, holding the paper in his hand, 'I am\nwrong, I have been mistaken.' A discovery so unexpected, and the fear\nof being accused of unfair dealing, filled him with consternation,\nand covered him with confusion, so much so, that every one saw his\nemotion. It was in vain that the President Caravita, who loved him,\nand knew his integrity, tried to console him, by telling him that\nsuch mistakes were not uncommon, even among the first men at the bar.\nAlfonso would listen to nothing, but, overwhelmed with confusion, his\nhead sunk on his breast, he said to himself, 'World, I know you now;\ncourts of law, never shall you see me again!' And turning his back on\nthe assembly, he withdrew to his own house, incessantly repeating to\nhimself, 'World, I know you now.' What annoyed him most was, that\nhaving studied and re-studied the process during a whole month,\nwithout having discovered this important flaw, he could not\nunderstand how it had escaped his observation.\"\n\nAnd this is the man who is so flippantly pronounced to be a patron of\nlying.\n\nBut, in truth, a Catholic theologian has objects in view which men in\ngeneral little compass; he is not thinking of himself, but of a\nmultitude of souls, sick souls, sinful souls, carried away by sin,\nfull of evil, and he is trying with all his might to rescue them from\ntheir miserable state; and, in order to save them from more heinous\nsins, he tries, to the full extent that his conscience will allow\nhim to go, to shut his eyes to such sins, as are, though sins, yet\nlighter in character or degree. He knows perfectly well that, if he\nis as strict as he would wish to be, he shall be able to do nothing\nat all with the run of men; so he is as indulgent with them as ever\nhe can be. Let it not be for an instant supposed, that I allow of the\nmaxim of doing evil that good may come; but, keeping clear of this,\nthere is a way of winning men from greater sins by winking for the\ntime at the less, or at mere improprieties or faults; and this is the\nkey to the difficulty which Catholic books of moral theology so often\ncause to the Protestant. They are intended for the confessor, and\nProtestants view them as intended for the preacher.\n\n2. And I observe upon Taylor, Milton, and Paley thus: What would a\nProtestant clergyman say to me, if I accused him of teaching that a\nlie was allowable; and if, when he asked for my proof, I said in\nreply that Taylor and Milton so taught? Why, he would sharply retort,\n\"_I_ am not bound by Taylor or Milton;\" and if I went on urging that\n\"Taylor was one of his authorities,\" he would answer that Taylor was\na great writer, but great writers were not therefore infallible. This\nis pretty much the answer which I make, when I am considered in this\nmatter a disciple of St. Alfonso.\n\nI plainly and positively state, and without any reserve, that I do\nnot at all follow this holy and charitable man in this portion of his\nteaching. There are various schools of opinion allowed in the Church:\nand on this point I follow others. I follow Cardinal Gerdil, and\nNatalis Alexander, nay, St. Augustine. I will quote one passage from\nNatalis Alexander:--\"They certainly lie, who utter the words of an\noath, without the will to swear or bind themselves: or who make use\nof mental reservations and _equivocations_ in swearing, since they\nsignify by words what they have not in mind, contrary to the end for\nwhich language was instituted, viz. as signs of ideas. Or they mean\nsomething else than the words signify in themselves and the common\ncustom of speech.\" And, to take an instance: I do not believe any\npriest in England would dream of saying, \"My friend is not here;\"\nmeaning, \"He is not in my pocket or under my shoe.\" Nor should any\nconsideration make me say so myself. I do not think St. Alfonso would\nin his own case have said so; and he would have been as much shocked\nat Taylor and Paley, as Protestants are at him.\n\n\nAnd now, if Protestants wish to know what our real teaching is, as on\nother subjects, so on that of lying, let them look, not at our books\nof casuistry, but at our catechisms. Works on pathology do not give\nthe best insight into the form and the harmony of the human frame;\nand, as it is with the body, so is it with the mind. The Catechism\nof the Council of Trent was drawn up for the express purpose of\nproviding preachers with subjects for their sermons; and, as my whole\nwork has been a defence of myself, I may here say that I rarely\npreach a sermon, but I go to this beautiful and complete Catechism to\nget both my matter and my doctrine. There we find the following\nnotices about the duty of veracity:--\n\n\"'Thou shalt not bear false witness,' etc.: let attention be drawn to\ntwo laws contained in this commandment:--the one, forbidding false\nwitness; the other bidding, that removing all pretence and deceits,\nwe should measure our words and deeds by simple truth, as the Apostle\nadmonished the Ephesians of that duty in these words: 'Doing truth in\ncharity, let us grow in Him through all things.'\n\n\"To deceive by a lie in joke or for the sake of compliment, though to\nno one there accrues loss or gain in consequence, nevertheless is\naltogether unworthy: for thus the Apostle admonishes, 'Putting aside\nlying, speak ye truth.' For therein is great danger of lapsing into\nfrequent and more serious lying, and from lies in joke men gain the\nhabit of lying, whence they gain the character of not being truthful.\nAnd thence again, in order to gain credit to their words, they find\nit necessary to make a practice of swearing.\n\n\"Nothing is more necessary than truth of testimony, in those things,\nwhich we neither know ourselves, nor can allowably be ignorant of,\non which point there is extant that maxim of St. Augustine's; Whoso\nconceals the truth, and whoso puts forth a lie, each is guilty; the\none because he is not willing to do a service, the other because he\nhas a wish to do a mischief.\n\n\"It is lawful at times to be silent about the truth, but out of a\ncourt of law; for in court, when a witness is interrogated by the\njudge according to law, the truth is wholly to be brought out.\n\n\"Witnesses, however, must beware, lest, from over-confidence in their\nmemory, they affirm for certain, what they have not verified.\n\n\"In order that the faithful may with more good will avoid the sin of\nlying, the Parish Priest shall set before them the extreme misery and\nturpitude of this wickedness. For, in holy writ, the devil is called\nthe father of a lie; for, in that he did not remain in Truth, he is a\nliar, and the father of a lie. He will add, with the view of ridding\nmen of so great a crime, the evils which follow upon lying; and,\nwhereas they are innumerable, he will point out [at least] the\nsources and the general heads of these mischiefs and calamities, viz.\n1. How great is God's displeasure and how great His hatred of a man\nwho is insincere and a liar. 2. What security there is that a man\nwho is specially hated by God may not be visited by the heaviest\npunishments. 3. What more unclean and foul, as St. James says, than\n... that a fountain by the same jet should send out sweet water and\nbitter? 4. For that tongue, which just now praised God, next, as far\nas in it lies, dishonours Him by lying. 5. In consequence, liars are\nshut out from the possession of heavenly beatitude. 6. That too is\nthe worst evil of lying, that that disease of the mind is generally\nincurable.\n\n\"Moreover, there is this harm too, and one of vast extent, and\ntouching men generally, that by insincerity and lying faith and truth\nare lost, which are the firmest bonds of human society, and, when\nthey are lost, supreme confusion follows in life, so that men seem in\nnothing to differ from devils.\n\n\"Lastly, the Parish Priest will set those right who excuse their\ninsincerity and allege the example of wise men, who, they say, are\nused to lie for an occasion. He will tell them, what is most true,\nthat the wisdom of the flesh is death. He will exhort his hearers to\ntrust in God, when they are in difficulties and straits, nor to have\nrecourse to the expedient of a lie.\n\n\"They who throw the blame of their own lie on those who have already\nby a lie deceived them, are to be taught that men must not revenge\nthemselves, nor make up for one evil by another.\" ...\n\nThere is much more in the Catechism to the same effect, and it is of\nuniversal obligation; whereas the decision of a particular author in\nmorals need not be accepted by any one.\n\n\nTo one other authority I appeal on this subject, which commands from\nme attention of a special kind, for they are the words of a Father.\nThey will serve to bring my work to a conclusion.\n\n\"St. Philip,\" says the Roman oratorian who wrote his Life, \"had a\nparticular dislike of affectation both in himself and others, in\nspeaking, in dressing, or in anything else.\n\n\"He avoided all ceremony which savoured of worldly compliment, and\nalways showed himself a great stickler for Christian simplicity in\neverything; so that, when he had to deal with men of worldly\nprudence, he did not very readily accommodate himself to them.\n\n\"And he avoided, as much as possible, having anything to do with\n_two-faced persons_, who did not go simply and straightforwardly to\nwork in their transactions.\n\n\"_As for liars, he could not endure them_, and he was _continually\nreminding_ his spiritual children, _to avoid them as they would a\npestilence_.\"\n\nThese are the principles on which I have acted before I was a\nCatholic; these are the principles which, I trust, will be my stay\nand guidance to the end.\n\n\nI have closed this history of myself with St. Philip's name upon St.\nPhilip's feast-day; and, having done so, to whom can I more suitably\noffer it, as a memorial of affection and gratitude, than to St.\nPhilip's sons, my dearest brothers of this house, the priests of the\nBirmingham Oratory, Ambrose St. John, Henry Austin Mills, Henry\nBittleston, Edward Caswall, William Paine Neville, and Henry Ignatius\nDudley Ryder? who have been so faithful to me; who have been so\nsensitive of my needs; who have been so indulgent to my failings; who\nhave carried me through so many trials; who have grudged no\nsacrifice, if I asked for it; who have been so cheerful under\ndiscouragements of my causing; who have done so many good works, and\nlet me have the credit of them;--with whom I have lived so long, with\nwhom I hope to die.\n\nAnd to you especially, dear Ambrose St. John; whom God gave me, when\nHe took every one else away; who are the link between my old life and\nmy new; who have now for twenty-one years been so devoted to me, so\npatient, so zealous, so tender; who have let me lean so hard upon\nyou; who have watched me so narrowly; who have never thought of\nyourself, if I was in question.\n\nAnd in you I gather up and bear in memory those familiar affectionate\ncompanions and counsellors, who in Oxford were given to me, one after\nanother, to be my daily solace and relief; and all those others, of\ngreat name and high example, who were my thorough friends, and showed\nme true attachment in times long past; and also those many younger\nmen, whether I knew them or not, who have never been disloyal to me\nby word or by deed; and of all these, thus various in their relations\nto me, those more especially who have since joined the Catholic\nChurch.\n\nAnd I earnestly pray for this whole company, with a hope against\nhope, that all of us, who once were so united, and so happy in our\nunion, may even now be brought at length, by the Power of the Divine\nWill, into One Fold and under One Shepherd.\n\nMay 26, 1864.\n\nIn Festo Corp. Christ.\n\n\n\n\nAppendix\n\nAnswer in Detail to Mr. Kingsley's Accusations\n\n\nIn proceeding now, according to the engagement with which I entered\nupon my undertaking, to examine in detail the Pamphlet which has been\nwritten against me, I am very sorry to be obliged to say, that it is\nas slovenly and random and futile in its definite charges, as it is\niniquitous in its method of disputation. And now I proceed to show\nthis without any delay; and shall consider in order,\n\n  1. My Sermon on the Apostolical Christian.\n  2. My Sermon on Wisdom and Innocence.\n  3. The Anglican Church.\n  4. The Lives of the English Saints.\n  5. Ecclesiastical miracles.\n  6. Popular Religion.\n  7. The Economy.\n  8. Lying and Equivocation.\n\n\n1. My Sermon on \"The Apostolical Christian,\" being the 19th of\n\"Sermons on Subjects of the Day\"\n\nThis writer says, \"What Dr. Newman means by Christians ... he has\nnot left in doubt;\" and then, quoting a passage from this sermon\nwhich speaks of \"the humble monk and the holy nun\" being \"Christians\nafter the very pattern given us in Scripture,\" he observes, \"This is\nhis _definition_ of Christians.\"--p. 9.\n\nThis is not the case. I have neither given a definition, nor implied\none, nor intended one; nor could I, either now or in 1843-4, or\nat any time, allow of the particular definition he ascribes to me. As\nif all Christians must be monks or nuns!\n\nWhat I have said is, that monks and nuns are patterns of Christian\nperfection; and that Scripture itself supplies us with this pattern.\nWho can deny this? Who is bold enough to say that St. John Baptist,\nwho, I suppose, is a Scripture character, is not a pattern-monk; and\nthat Mary, who \"sat at our Lord's feet,\" was not a pattern-nun? and\n\"Anna too, who served God with fastings and prayers night and day?\"\nAgain, what is meant but this by St. Paul's saying, \"It is good for a\nman not to touch a woman?\" and, when speaking of the father or\nguardian of a young girl, \"He that giveth her in marriage doeth well;\nbut he that giveth her not in marriage doeth better?\" And what does\nSt. John mean but to praise virginity, when he says of the hundred\nforty and four thousand on Mount Sion, \"These are they which were not\ndefiled with women, for they are virgins?\" And what else did our Lord\nmean, when He said, \"There be eunuchs who have made themselves\neunuchs for the kingdom of heaven's sake. He that is able to receive\nit, let him receive it?\"\n\nHe ought to know his logic better: I have said that \"monks and nuns\nfind their pattern in Scripture:\" he adds, _Therefore_ I hold all\nChristians are monks and nuns.\n\nThis is Blot _one_.\n\n\nNow then for Blot _two_.\n\n\"Monks and nuns the _only_ perfect Christians ... what more?\"--p. 9.\n\nA second fault in logic. I said no more than that monks and nuns were\nperfect Christians: he adds, _Therefore_ \"monks and nuns are the\n_only_ perfect Christians.\" Monks and nuns are _not_ the only perfect\nChristians; I never thought so or said so, now or at any other time.\n\n\nP. 42. \"In the Sermon ... monks and nuns are spoken of as the _only\ntrue_ Bible Christians.\" This, again, is not the case. What I said\nis, that \"monks and nuns are Bible Christians:\" it does not follow,\nnor did I mean, that \"all Bible Christians are monks and nuns.\" Bad\nlogic again. Blot _three_.\n\n2. My Sermon on \"Wisdom and Innocence\", Being the 20th of\n\"Sermons on Subjects of the Day\"\n\nThis writer says, p. 8, about my Sermon 20, \"By the world appears to\nbe signified, especially, the Protestant public of these realms.\"\n\nHe also asks, p. 14, \"Why was it preached? ... to insinuate, that the\nadmiring young gentlemen, who listened to him, stood to their\nfellow-countrymen in the relation of the early Christians to the\nheathen Romans? Or that Queen Victoria's Government was to the Church\nof England, what Nero's or Dioclesian's was to the Church of Rome? it\nmay have been so.\"\n\nMay or may not, it wasn't. He insinuates what not even with his\nlittle finger does he attempt to prove. Blot _four_.\n\n\nHe asserts, p. 9, that I said in the sermon in question, that\n\"Sacramental Confession and the celibacy of the clergy are 'notes' of\nthe Church.\" And, just before, he puts the word \"notes\" in inverted\ncommas, as if it was mine. That is, he garbles. It is _not_ mine.\nBlot _five_.\n\n\nHe says that I \"_define_ what I mean by the Church in two 'notes' of\nher character.\" I do not define, or dream of defining.\n\n1. He says that I teach that the celibacy of the clergy enters into\nthe _definition_ of the Church. I do no such thing; that is the blunt\ntruth. Define the Church by the celibacy of the clergy! why, let him\nread 1 Tim. iii.; there he will find that bishops and deacons are\nspoken of as married. How, then, could I be the dolt to say or imply\nthat the celibacy of the clergy was a part of the definition of the\nChurch? Blot _six_.\n\nAnd again in p. 42, \"In the Sermon a celibate clergy is made a note\nof the Church.\" Thus the untruth is repeated. Blot _seven_.\n\n\n2. And now for Blot _eight_. Neither did I say that \"Sacramental\nconfession\" was \"a note of the Church.\" Nor is it. Nor could I with\nany cogency have brought this as an argument against the Church of\nEngland, for the Church of England has retained Confession, nay,\nSacramental Confession. No fair man can read the form of Absolution\nin the Anglican Prayer in the Visitation of the Sick, without seeing\nthat that Church _does_ sanction and provide for Confession and\nAbsolution. If that form does not contain the profession of a grave\nsacramental act, words have no meaning. The form is almost in the\nwords of the Roman form; and, by the time that this clergyman has\nsucceeded in explaining it away, he will have also got skill enough\nto explain away the Roman form; and if he did but handle my words\nwith that latitude with which he interprets his own formularies, he\nwould prove that, instead of my being superstitious and frantic, I\nwas the most Protestant of preachers and the most latitudinarian of\nthinkers. It would be charity in him, in his reading of my words, to\nuse some of that power of evasion, of which he shows himself such a\nmaster in his dealing with his own Prayer Book. Yet he has the\nassurance at p. 14 to ask, \"Why was the Sermon preached? to insinuate\nthat a Church which had sacramental confession and a celibate clergy\nwas the only true Church?\"\n\n\n\"Why?\" I will tell the reader, _why_; and with this view will speak,\nfirst of the contents of the Sermon, then of its subject, then of its\ncircumstances.\n\n1. It was one of the last six sermons which I wrote when I was an\nAnglican. It was one of the five sermons I preached in St. Mary's\nbetween Christmas and Easter, 1843, the year when I gave up my\nliving. The MS. of the sermon is destroyed; but I believe, and my\nmemory too bears me out, as far as it goes, that the sentence in\nquestion about celibacy and confession _was not preached at all_. The\nvolume, in which this sermon is found, was published _after_ that I\nhad given up St. Mary's, when I had no call on me to restrain the\nexpression of anything which I might hold: and I state an important\nfact about it in the advertisement, which this truth-loving writer\n_suppresses_. Blot _nine_.\n\nMy words, which stared him in the face, are as follows:--\"In\npreparing [these Sermons] for publication, _a few words and\nsentences_ have in several places been _added_, which will be found\nto express more _of private or personal opinion_, than it was\nexpedient to introduce into the _instruction_ delivered in Church to\na parochial Congregation. Such introduction, however, seems\nunobjectionable in the case of compositions, which are _detached_\nfrom the sacred place and service to which they once belonged, and\n_submitted to the reason_ and judgment of the general reader.\"\n\nThis volume of sermons then cannot be criticised at all as\n_preachments_; they are _essays_; essays of a man who, at the time of\npublishing them, was _not_ a preacher. Such passages, as that in\nquestion, are just the very ones which I added _upon_ my publishing\nthem. I always was on my guard in the pulpit of saying anything which\nlooked towards Rome; and therefore all his rhetoric about my\n\"disciples,\" \"admiring young gentlemen who listened to me,\" \"fanatic\nand hot-headed young men, who hung upon my every word,\" becomes\nsimple rubbish.\n\nI have more to say on this point. This writer says, p. 14, \"I know\nthat men used to suspect Dr. Newman--I have been inclined to do so\nmyself--of _writing a whole Sermon, not for the sake of the text or\nof the matter_, but for the sake of one simple passing hint--one\nphrase, one epithet.\" Can there be a plainer testimony borne to the\npractical character of my sermons at St. Mary's than this gratuitous\ninsinuation? Many a preacher of Tractarian doctrine has been accused\nof not letting his parishioners alone, and of teasing them with his\nprivate theological notions. You would gather from the general tone\nof this writer that that was my way. Every one who was in the habit\nof hearing me, knows that it wasn't. This writer either knows nothing\nabout it, and then he ought to be silent; or he does know, and then\nhe ought to speak the truth. Others spread the same report twenty\nyears ago as he does now, and the world believed that my sermons at\nSt. Mary's were full of red-hot Tractarianism. Then strangers came to\nhear me preach, and were astonished at their own disappointment. I\nrecollect the wife of a great prelate from a distance coming to hear\nme, and then expressing her surprise to find that I preached nothing\nbut a plain humdrum sermon. I recollect how, when on the Sunday\nbefore Commemoration one year, a number of strangers came to hear\nme, and I preached in my usual way, residents in Oxford, of high\nposition, were loud in their satisfaction that on a great occasion, I\nhad made a simple failure, for after all there was nothing in the\nsermon to hear. Well, but they were not going to let me off, for all\nmy common-sense view of duty. Accordingly, they got up the charitable\ntheory which this writer revives. They said that there was a double\npurpose in those plain addresses of mine, and that my sermons were\nnever so artful as when they seemed common-place; that there were\nsentences which redeemed their apparent simplicity and quietness. So\nthey watched during the delivery of a sermon, which to them was too\npractical to be useful, for the concealed point of it, which they\ncould at least imagine, if they could not discover. \"Men used to\nsuspect Dr. Newman,\" he says, \"of writing a _whole_ Sermon, _not_ for\nthe sake of _the text or of the matter_, but for the sake of ...\n_one_ phrase, _one_ epithet, _one_ little barbed arrow, which, as he\n_swept magnificently_ past on the stream of his calm eloquence,\n_seemingly_ unconscious of all presences, save those unseen, he\ndelivered unheeded,\" etc. p. 14. To all appearance, he says, I was\n\"unconscious of all presences;\" so this kind writer supplies the true\ninterpretation of this unconsciousness. He is not able to deny that\n\"the _whole_ Sermon\" had the _appearance_ of being \"_for the sake_ of\nthe text and matter;\" therefore he suggests that perhaps it wasn't.\nAnd then he emptily talks of the \"magnificent sweep of my eloquence,\"\nand my \"oratoric power.\" Did he forget that the sermon of which he\nthus speaks can be read by others as well as him? Now, the sentences\nare as short as Aristotle's, and as grave as Bishop Butler's. It is\nwritten almost in the condensed style of Tract 90. Eloquence there is\nnone. I put this down as Blot _ten_.\n\n\n2. And now as to the subject of the sermon. The series of which the\nvolume consists are such sermons as are, more or less, exceptions to\nthe rule which I ordinarily observed, as to the subjects which I\nintroduced into the pulpit of St. Mary's. They are not purely ethical\nor doctrinal. They were for the most part caused by circumstances of\nthe day or of the time, and they belong to various years. One was\nwritten in 1832, two in 1836, two in 1838, five in 1840, five in\n1841, four in 1842, seven in 1843. Many of them are engaged on one\nsubject, viz. in viewing the Church in its relation to the world. By\nthe world was meant, not simply those multitudes which were not in\nthe Church, but the existing body of human society, whether in the\nChurch or not, whether Catholics, Protestants, Greeks, or Mahometans,\ntheists or idolaters, as being ruled by principles, maxims, and\ninstincts of their own, that is, of an unregenerate nature, whatever\ntheir supernatural privileges might be, greater or less, according to\ntheir form of religion. This view of the relation of the Church to\nthe world as taken apart from questions of ecclesiastical politics,\nas they may be called, is often brought out in my sermons. Two occur\nto me at once; No. 3 of my Plain Sermons, which was written in 1829,\nand No. 15 of my third volume, written in 1835. Then, on the other\nhand, by Church I meant--in common with all writers connected with\nthe Tract Movement, whatever their shades of opinion, and with\nthe whole body of English divines, except those of the Puritan or\nEvangelical School--the whole of Christendom, from the apostles' time\ntill now, whatever their later divisions into Latin, Greek, and\nAnglican. I have explained this view of the subject above at pp.\n83-85 of this Volume. When then I speak, in the particular sermon\nbefore us, of the members, or the rulers, or the action of \"the\nChurch,\" I mean neither the Latin, nor the Greek, nor the English,\ntaken by itself, but of the whole Church as one body: of Italy as one\nwith England, of the Saxon or Norman as one with the Caroline Church.\n_This_ was specially the one Church, and the points in which one\nbranch or one period differed from another were not and could not be\nnotes of the Church, because notes necessarily belonged to the whole\nof the Church everywhere and always.\n\nThis being my doctrine as to the relation of the Church to the world,\nI laid down in the sermon three principles concerning it, and there\nleft the matter. The first is, that Divine Wisdom had framed for its\naction, laws which man, if left to himself, would have antecedently\npronounced to be the worst possible for its success, and which in all\nages have been called by the world, as they were in the apostles'\ndays, \"foolishness;\" that man ever relies on physical and material\nforce, and on carnal inducements--as Mahomet with his sword and his\nhouris, or indeed almost as that theory of religion, called, since\nthe sermon was written, \"muscular Christianity;\" but that our\nLord, on the contrary, has substituted meekness for haughtiness,\npassiveness for violence, and innocence for craft: and that the event\nhas shown the high wisdom of such an economy, for it has brought to\nlight a set of natural laws, unknown before, by which the seeming\nparadox that weakness should be stronger than might, and simplicity\nthan worldly policy, is readily explained.\n\nSecondly, I said that men of the world, judging by the event, and not\nrecognizing the secret causes of the success, viz. a higher order of\nnatural laws--natural, though their source and action were\nsupernatural, (for \"the meek inherit the earth,\" by means of a\nmeekness which comes from above)--these men, I say, concluded, that\nthe success which they witnessed must arise from some evil secret\nwhich the world had not mastered--by means of magic, as they said in\nthe first ages, by cunning as they say now. And accordingly they\nthought that the humility and inoffensiveness of Christians, or of\nChurchmen, was a mere pretence and blind to cover the real causes of\nthat success, which Christians could explain and would not; and that\nthey were simply hypocrites.\n\nThirdly, I suggested that shrewd ecclesiastics, who knew very well\nthat there was neither magic nor craft in the matter, and, from their\nintimate acquaintance with what actually went on within the Church,\ndiscerned what were the real causes of its success, were of course\nunder the temptation of substituting reason for conscience, and,\ninstead of simply obeying the command, were led to do good that good\nmight come, that is, to act _in order_ to their success, and not from\na motive of faith. Some, I said, did yield to the temptation more or\nless, and their motives became mixed; and in this way the world in a\nmore subtle shape has got into the Church; and hence it has come to\npass, that, looking at its history from first to last, we cannot\npossibly draw the line between good and evil there, and say either\nthat everything is to be defended, or some things to be condemned. I\nexpressed the difficulty, which I supposed to be inherent in the\nChurch, in the following words. I said, \"_Priestcraft has ever been\nconsidered the badge_, and its imputation is a kind of Note of the\nChurch; and _in part indeed truly_, because the presence of powerful\nenemies, and the sense of their own weakness, _has sometimes tempted\nChristians to the abuse, instead of the use of Christian wisdom, to\nbe wise without being harmless_; but partly, nay, for the most part,\nnot truly, but slanderously, and merely because the world called\ntheir wisdom craft, when it was found to be a match for its own\nnumbers and power.\" This passage he has partly garbled, partly\nomitted. Blot _eleven_.\n\nSuch is the substance of the sermon: and as to the main drift of it,\nit was this; that I was, there and elsewhere, scrutinising the course\nof the Church as a whole, as if philosophically, as an historical\nphenomenon, and observing the laws on which it was conducted. Hence\nthe sermon, or essay as it more truly is, is written in a dry and\nunimpassioned way: it shows as little of human warmth of feeling, I\nrepeat, as a sermon of Bishop Butler's. Yet, under that calm exterior\nthere was a deep and keen sensitiveness, as I shall now proceed to\nshow.\n\n\n3. If I mistake not, it was written with a secret thought about\nmyself. Every one preaches according to his frame of mind, at the\ntime of preaching. One heaviness especially oppressed me at that\nseason, which this writer, twenty years afterwards, has set himself\nwith a good will to renew: it arose from the sense of the base\ncalumnies which were thrown upon me on all sides. In this trouble of\nmind I gained, while I reviewed the history of the Church, at once an\nargument and a consolation. My argument was this: if I, who knew my\nown innocence, was so blackened by party prejudice, perhaps those\nhigh rulers and those servants of the Church, in the many ages which\nintervened between the early Nicene times and the present, who were\nladen with such grievous accusations, were innocent also; and this\nreflection served to make me tender towards those great names of the\npast, to whom weaknesses or crimes were imputed, and reconciled me to\ndifficulties in ecclesiastical proceedings, which there were no means\nnow of properly explaining. And the sympathy thus excited for them,\nreacted on myself, and I found comfort in being able to put myself\nunder the shadow of those who had suffered as I was suffering, and\nwho seemed to promise me their recompense, since I had a fellowship\nin their trial. In a letter to my bishop at the time of Tract 90,\npart of which I have quoted, I said that I had ever tried to \"keep\ninnocency;\" and now two years had passed since then, and men were\nlouder and louder in heaping on me the very charges, which this\nwriter repeats out of my sermon, of \"fraud and cunning,\" \"craftiness\nand deceitfulness,\" \"double-dealing,\" \"priestcraft,\" of being\n\"mysterious, dark, subtle, designing,\" when I was all the time\nconscious to myself, in my degree, and after my measure, of\n\"sobriety, self-restraint, and control of word and feeling.\" I had\nhad experience how my past success had been imputed to \"secret\nmanagement;\" and how, when I had shown surprise at that success, that\nsurprise again was imputed to \"deceit;\" and how my honest heartfelt\nsubmission to authority had been called, as it was called in a\ncolonial bishop's charge, \"mystic humility;\" and how my silence was\ncalled an \"hypocrisy;\" and my faithfulness to my clerical engagements\na secret correspondence with the enemy. And I found a way of\ndestroying my sensitiveness about these things which jarred upon my\nsense of justice, and otherwise would have been too much for me, by\nthe contemplation of a large law of the Divine Dispensation, and\nfound myself more and more able to bear in my own person a present\ntrial, of which in my past writings I had expressed an anticipation.\n\nFor thus feeling and thus speaking this writer has the charitableness\nand the decency to call me \"Mawworm.\" \"I found him telling\nChristians,\" he says, \"that they will always seem 'artificial,' and\n'wanting in openness and manliness;' that they will always be 'a\nmystery' to the world; and that the world will always think them\nrogues; and bidding them glory in what the world (that is, the rest\nof their fellow-countrymen) disown, and say with Mawworm, 'I like to\nbe despised.' ... How was I to know that the preacher ... was utterly\nblind to the broad meaning and the plain practical result of a sermon\nlike this delivered before fanatic and hot-headed young men, who hung\nupon his every word?\"--p. 17. Hot-headed young men! why, man, you are\nwriting a romance. You think the scene is Alexandria or the Spanish\nmain, where you may let your imagination play revel to the extent of\ninveracity. It is good luck for me that the scene of my labours was\nnot at Moscow or Damascus. Then I might be one of your ecclesiastical\nsaints, of which I sometimes hear in conversation, but with whom, I\nam glad to say, I have no personal acquaintance. Then you might\nascribe to me a more deadly craft than mere quibbling and lying; in\nSpain I should have been an Inquisitor, with my rack in the\nbackground; I should have had a concealed dagger in Sicily; at Venice\nI should have brewed poison; in Turkey I should have been the\nSheik-el-Islam with my bowstring; in Khorassan I should have been a\nveiled prophet. \"Fanatic young men!\" Why he is writing out the list\nof a _dramatis Personae_; \"guards, conspirators, populace,\" and the\nlike. He thinks I was ever moving about with a train of Capulets at\nmy heels. \"Hot-headed fanatics, who hung on my every word!\" If he had\ntaken to write a history, and not a play, he would have easily found\nout, as I have said, that from 1841 I had severed myself from the\nyounger generation of Oxford, that Dr. Pusey and I had then closed\nour theological meetings at his house, that I had brought my own\nweekly evening parties to an end, that I preached only by fits and\nstarts at St. Mary's, so that the attendance of young men was broken\nup, that in those very weeks from Christmas till over Easter, during\nwhich this sermon was preached, I was but five times in the pulpit\nthere. He would have known that it was written at a time when I was\nshunned rather than sought, when I had great sacrifices in\nanticipation, when I was thinking much of myself; that I was\nruthlessly tearing myself away from my own followers, and that, in\nthe musings of that sermon, I was at the very utmost only delivering\na testimony in my behalf for time to come, not sowing my rhetoric\nbroadcast for the chance of present sympathy. Blot _twelve_.\n\nI proceed: he says at p. 15, \"I found him actually using of such\n[prelates], (and, as I thought, of himself and his party likewise),\nthe words 'They yield outwardly; to assent inwardly were to betray\nthe faith. Yet they are called deceitful and double-dealing, because\nthey do as much as they can, not more than they may.'\" This too is a\nproof of my duplicity! Let this writer go with some one else, just a\nlittle further than he has gone with me; and let him get into a court\nof law for libel; and let him be convicted; and let him still fancy\nthat his libel, though a libel, was true, and let us then see whether\nhe will not in such a case \"yield outwardly,\" without assenting\ninternally; and then again whether we should please him, if we called\nhim \"deceitful and double-dealing,\" because \"he did as much as he\ncould, not more than he ought to do.\" But Tract 90 will supply a real\nillustration of what I meant. I yielded to the bishops in outward\nact, viz. in not defending the Tract, and in closing the series; but,\nnot only did I not assent inwardly to any condemnation of it, but I\nopposed myself to the proposition of a condemnation on the part of\nauthority. Yet I was then by the public called \"deceitful and\ndouble-dealing,\" as this writer calls me now, \"because I did as much\nas I felt I could do, and not more than I felt I could honestly do.\"\nMany were the publications of the day and the private letters which\naccused me of shuffling, because I closed the series of tracts, yet\nkept the tracts on sale, as if I ought to comply not only with what\nmy bishop asked, but with what he did not ask, and perhaps did not\nwish. However, such teaching, according to this writer, was likely to\nmake young men suspect that truth was not a virtue for its own sake,\nbut only for the sake of \"the spread of Catholic opinions,\" and the\n\"salvation of their own souls;\" and that \"cunning was the weapon\nwhich heaven had allowed to them to defend themselves against the\npersecuting Protestant public.\"--p. 16. Blot _thirteen_.\n\n\nAnd now I draw attention to another point. He says at p. 15, \"How was\nI to know that the preacher ... did not foresee, that [fanatic and\nhot-headed young men] would think that they obeyed him, by becoming\naffected, artificial, sly, shifty, ready for concealments and\n_equivocations?_\" \"How should he know!\" What! I suppose that we are\nto think every man a knave till he is proved not to be such. Know!\nhad he no friend to tell him whether I was \"affected\" or \"artificial\"\nmyself? Could he not have done better than impute _equivocation_ to\nme, at a time when I was in no sense answerable for the\n_amphibologia_ of the Roman casuists? Has he a single fact which\nbelongs to me personally or by profession to couple my name with\nequivocation in 1843? \"How should he know\" that I was not sly,\nsmooth, artificial, non-natural! he should know by that common manly\nfrankness, if he had it, by which we put confidence in others, till\nthey are proved to have forfeited it; he should know it by my own\nwords in that very sermon, in which I say it is best to be natural,\nand that reserve is at best but an unpleasant necessity. I say, \"I do\nnot deny that there is something very engaging in a frank and\nunpretending manner; some persons have it more than others; in _some\npersons it is a great grace_. But it must be recollected that I am\nspeaking of _times of persecution and oppression_ to Christians, such\nas the text foretells; and then surely frankness will become nothing\nelse than indignation at the oppressor, and vehement speech, if it is\npermitted. Accordingly, as persons have deep _feelings_, so they will\nfind the necessity of self-control, lest they should say what they\nought not.\" He omits these words. I call, then, this base insinuation\nthat I taught equivocation, Blot the _fourteenth_.\n\n\nLastly, he sums up thus: \"If [Dr. Newman] would ... persist (as in\nthis Sermon) in dealing with matters dark, offensive, doubtful,\nsometimes actually forbidden, at least according to the notions of\nthe great majority of English Churchmen; if he would always do so in\na tentative, paltering way, seldom or never letting the world know\nhow much he believed, how far he intended to go; if, in a word, his\nmethod of teaching was a suspicious one, what wonder if the minds of\nmen were filled with suspicions of him?\"--p. 17.\n\nNow first he is speaking of my sermons; where, then, is his proof\nthat in my sermons I dealt in matters dark, offensive, doubtful,\nactually forbidden? he has said nothing in proof that I have not been\nable flatly to deny.\n\n\"Forbidden according to the notions of the great majority of English\nChurchmen.\" I should like to know what opinions, beyond those which\nrelate to the Creed, _are_ held by the \"majority of English\nChurchmen:\"--are his own? is it not perfectly well known, that \"the\ngreat majority\" think of him and his views with a feeling which I\nwill not describe, because it is not necessary for my argument? So\nfar is certain, that he has not the majority with him.\n\n\"In a tentative, paltering way.\" The word \"paltering\" I reject, as\nvague; as to \"tentative,\" he must show that I was tentative in my\nsermons; and he has eight volumes to look through. As to the ninth,\nmy University sermons, of course I was \"tentative;\" but not because\n\"I would seldom or never let the world know how much I believed, or\nhow far I intended to go;\" but because in deep subjects, which had\nnot been fully investigated, I said as much as I believed, and about\nas far as I saw I could go; and a man cannot do more; and I account\nno man to be a philosopher who attempts to do more. How long am I to\nhave the office of merely negativing assertions which are but\nsupported by former assertions, in which John is ever helping Tom,\nand the elephant stands upon the tortoise? This is Blot\n_fifteen_.\n\n3. The Anglican Church\n\nThis writer says:--\"If there is, as there is, a strong distrust of\ncertain Catholics, it is restricted to the proselytizing priests\namong them; and especially to those, who, like Dr. Newman, have\nturned round upon their mother Church (I had almost said their mother\ncountry), with contumely and slander.\"--p. 18.\n\nNo one has a right to make a charge, without at least an attempt to\nprove what he says; but this writer is consistent with himself. From\nthe time that he first spoke of me in the magazine, _when_ has he\never even professed to give evidence of any sort for any one of his\ncharges, from his own sense of propriety, and without being\nchallenged on the point? After the sentence which I have been\nquoting, and another like it, he coolly passes on to Tract 90! Blot\n_sixteen_; but I shall dwell on it awhile, for its own sake.\n\n\nNow I have been bringing out my mind in this volume on every subject\nwhich has come before me; and therefore I am bound to state plainly\nwhat I feel and have felt, since I was a Catholic, about the Anglican\nChurch. I said, in a former page, that, on my conversion, I was not\nconscious of any change in me of thought or feeling, as regards\nmatters of doctrine; this, however, was not the case as regards some\nmatters of fact, and, unwilling as I am to give offence to religious\nAnglicans, I am bound to confess that I felt a great change in my\nview of the Church of England. I cannot tell how soon there came on\nme--but very soon--an extreme astonishment that I had ever imagined\nit to be a portion of the Catholic Church. For the first time, I\nlooked at it from without, and (as I should myself say) saw it as it\nwas. Forthwith I could not get myself to see in it anything else,\nthan what I had so long fearfully suspected, from as far back as\n1836--a mere national institution. As if my eyes were suddenly\nopened, so I saw it--spontaneously, apart from any definite act of\nreason or any argument; and so I have seen it ever since. I suppose,\nthe main cause of this lay in the contrast which was presented to me\nby the Catholic Church. Then I recognised at once a reality which was\nquite a new thing with me. Then I was sensible that I was not making\nfor myself a Church by an effort of thought; I needed not to make\nan act of faith in her; I had not painfully to force myself into a\nposition, but my mind fell back upon itself in relaxation and in\npeace, and I gazed at her almost passively as a great objective fact.\nI looked at her;--at her rites, her ceremonial, and her precepts; and\nI said, \"This _is_ a religion;\" and then, when I looked back upon the\npoor Anglican Church, for which I had laboured so hard, and upon all\nthat appertained to it, and thought of our various attempts to dress\nit up doctrinally and esthetically, it seemed to me to be the veriest\nof nonentities. Vanity of vanities, all is vanity! How can I make a\nrecord of what passed within me, without seeming to be satirical? But\nI speak plain, serious words. As people call me credulous for\nacknowledging Catholic claims, so they call me satirical for\ndisowning Anglican pretensions; to them it _is_ credulity, to them it\n_is_ satire; but it is not so in me. What they think exaggeration, I\nthink truth. I am not speaking of the Anglican Church in any disdain,\nthough to them I seem contemptuous. To them of course it is \"Aut\nCaesar aut nullus,\" but not to me. It may be a great creation, though\nit be not divine, and this is how I judge of it. Men, who abjure the\ndivine right of kings, would be very indignant, if on that account\nthey were considered disloyal. And so I recognise in the Anglican\nChurch a time-honoured institution, of noble historical memories, a\nmonument of ancient wisdom, a momentous arm of political strength, a\ngreat national organ, a source of vast popular advantage, and, to a\ncertain point, a witness and teacher of religious truth. I do not\nthink that, if what I have written about it since I have been a\nCatholic, be equitably considered as a whole, I shall be found to\nhave taken any other view than this; but that it is something sacred,\nthat it is an oracle of revealed doctrine, that it can claim a share\nin St. Ignatius or St. Cyprian, that it can take the rank, contest\nthe teaching, and stop the path of the Church of St. Peter, that it\ncan call itself \"the Bride of the Lamb,\" this is the view of it which\nsimply disappeared from my mind on my conversion, and which it would\nbe almost a miracle to reproduce. \"I went by, and lo! it was gone; I\nsought it, but its place could no where be found;\" and nothing can\nbring it back to me. And, as to its possession of an episcopal\nsuccession from the time of the apostles, well, it may have it, and,\nif the holy see ever so decided, I will believe it, as being the\ndecision of a higher judgment than my own; but, for myself, I must\nhave St. Philip's gift, who saw the sacerdotal character on the\nforehead of a gaily-attired youngster, before I can by my own wit\nacquiesce in it, for antiquarian arguments are altogether unequal to\nthe urgency of visible facts. Why is it that I must pain dear friends\nby saying so, and kindle a sort of resentment against me in the\nkindest of hearts? but I must, though to do it be not only a grief to\nme, but most impolitic at the moment. Anyhow, this is my mind; and,\nif to have it, if to have betrayed it, before now, involuntarily by\nmy words or my deeds, if on a fitting occasion, as now, to have\navowed it, if all this be a proof of the justice of the charge\nbrought against me of having \"turned round upon my Mother-Church with\ncontumely and slander,\" in this sense, but in no other sense, do I\nplead guilty to it without a word in extenuation.\n\nIn no other sense surely; the Church of England has been the\ninstrument of Providence in conferring great benefits on me; had I\nbeen born in Dissent, perhaps I should never have been baptised; had\nI been born an English Presbyterian, perhaps I should never have\nknown our Lord's divinity; had I not come to Oxford, perhaps I never\nshould have heard of the visible Church, or of Tradition, or other\nCatholic doctrines. And as I have received so much good from the\nAnglican Establishment itself, can I have the heart, or rather the\nwant of charity, considering that it does for so many others, what it\nhas done for me, to wish to see it overthrown? I have no such wish\nwhile it is what it is, and while we are so small a body. Not for its\nown sake, but for the sake of the many congregations to which it\nministers, I will do nothing against it. While Catholics are so weak\nin England, it is doing our work; and, though it does us harm in a\nmeasure, at present the balance is in our favour. What our duty would\nbe at another time and in other circumstances, supposing, for\ninstance, the Establishment lost its dogmatic faith, or at least did\nnot preach it, is another matter altogether. In secular history we\nread of hostile nations having long truces, and renewing them from\ntime to time, and that seems to be the position the Catholic Church\nmay fairly take up at present in relation to the Anglican\nEstablishment.\n\nDoubtless the National Church has hitherto been a serviceable\nbreakwater against doctrinal errors, more fundamental than its own.\nHow long this will last in the years now before us, it is impossible\nto say, for the nation drags down its Church to its own level; but\nstill the National Church has the same sort of influence over the\nnation that a periodical has upon the party which it represents, and\nmy own idea of a Catholic's fitting attitude towards the National\nChurch in this its supreme hour, is that of assisting and sustaining\nit, if it be in our power, in the interest of dogmatic truth. I\nshould wish to avoid everything, except under the direct call of\nduty, which went to weaken its hold upon the public mind, or to\nunsettle its establishment, or to embarrass and lessen its\nmaintenance of those great Christian and Catholic principles and\ndoctrines which it has up to this time successfully preached.\n\nI say, \"except under the call of duty;\" and this exception, I am\nobliged to admit, is not a slight one; it is one which necessarily\nplaces a bar to any closer relation between it and ourselves, than\nthat of an armed truce. For, in the first place, it stands to reason\nthat even a volume, such as this has been, exerts an influence\nadverse to the Establishment--at least in the case of many minds; and\nthis I cannot avoid, though I have sincerely attempted to keep as\nwide of controversy in the course of it, as ever I could. And next I\ncannot deny, what must be ever a very sore point with Anglicans,\nthat, if any Anglican comes to me after careful thought and prayer,\nand with deliberate purpose, and says, \"I believe in the Holy\nCatholic Church, and that your Church and yours alone is it, and I\ndemand admittance into it,\" it would be the greatest of sins in me to\nreject such a man, as being a distinct contravention of our Lord's\nmaxim, \"Freely ye have received, freely give.\"\n\n\nI have written three volumes which may be considered controversial;\nLoss and Gain in 1847; Lectures on Difficulties felt by Anglicans in\nsubmitting to the Catholic Church in 1850; and Lectures on the\npresent Position of Catholics in England in 1851. And though I have\nneither time nor need to go into the matter minutely, a few words\nwill suffice for some general account of what has been my object and\nmy tone in these works severally.\n\nOf these three, the Lectures on the \"Position of Catholics\" have\nnothing to do with the Church of England, as such; they are directed\nagainst the Protestant or Ultra-Protestant tradition on the subject\nof Catholicism since the time of Queen Elizabeth, in which parties\nindeed in the Church of England have largely participated, but which\ncannot be confused with Anglican teaching itself. Much less can that\ntradition be confused with the doctrine of the Laudian or of the\nTractarian School. I owe nothing to Protestantism; and I spoke\nagainst it even when I was an Anglican, as well as in these Catholic\nlectures. If I spoke in them against the Church Established, it was\nbecause, and so far as, at the time when they were delivered the\nEstablishment took a violent part against the Catholic Church, on the\nbasis of the Protestant tradition. Moreover, I had never as an\nAnglican been a lover of the actual Establishment; Hurrell Froude's\nRemains, in which it is called an \"incubus\" and \"Upas Tree,\" will\nstand in evidence, as for him, so for me; for I was one of the\neditors. What I said even as an Anglican, it is not strange that I\nsaid when I was not. Indeed I have been milder in my thoughts of the\nEstablishment ever since I have been a Catholic than before, and for\nan obvious reason:--when I was an Anglican, I viewed it as repressing\na higher doctrine than its own; and now I view it as keeping out a\nlower and more dangerous.\n\nThen as to my Lectures on Anglican Difficulties. Neither were these\nformally directed against the National Church. They were addressed to\nthe \"Children of the Movement of 1833,\" to impress upon them, that,\nwhatever was the case with others, their duty at least was to become\nCatholics, since Catholicism was the real scope and issue of that\nMovement. \"There is but one thing,\" I say, \"that forces me to\nspeak.... It will be a miserable thing for you and for me, if I have\nbeen instrumental in bringing you but half-way, if I have co-operated\nin removing your invincible ignorance, but am able to do no\nmore.\"--p. 5. Such being the drift of the volume, the reasoning\ndirected against the Church of England goes no further than this,\nthat it had no claims whatever on such of its members as were\nproceeding onwards with the Movement into the Catholic Church.\n\nLastly, as to Loss and Gain: it is the story, simply ideal, of the\nconversion of an Oxford man. Its drift is to show how little there is\nin Anglicanism to satisfy and retain a young and earnest heart. In\nthis tale, all the best characters are sober Church-of-England\npeople. No Tractarians proper are introduced: and this is noted in\nthe advertisement: \"No _proper_ representative is intended in this\ntale, of the religious opinions, which had lately so much influence\nin the University of Oxford.\" There _could_ not be such in the tale,\nwithout the introduction of friends, which was impossible in its very\nnotion. But, since the scene was to be laid during the very years,\nand at the head-quarters, of Tractarianism, some expedient was\nnecessary in order to meet what was a great difficulty. My expedient\nwas the introduction of what may be called Tractarians _improper_;\nand I took them the more readily, because, though I knew that such\nthere were, I knew none of them personally. I mean such men as I used\nto consider of \"the gilt-gingerbread school,\" from whom I expected\nlittle good, persons whose religion lay in ritualism or architecture,\nand who \"played at Popery\" or at Anglicanism. I repeat I knew no such\nmen, because it is one thing to desire fine churches and ceremonies\n(which of course I did myself), and quite another thing to desire\nthese and nothing else; but at that day there was in some quarters,\nthough not in those where I had influence, a strong movement in the\nesthetic direction. Doubtless I went too far in my apprehension of\nsuch a movement: for one of the best, and most devoted and\nhard-working priests I ever knew was the late Father Hutchison, of\nthe London Oratory, and I believe it was architecture that directed\nhis thoughts towards the Catholic Church. However, I had in my mind\nan external religion which was inordinate; and, as the men who were\nconsidered instances of it, were personally unknown to me, even by\nname, I introduced them, under imaginary representatives, in Loss and\nGain, and that, in order to get clear of Tractarians proper; and of\nthe three men, whom I have introduced, the Anglican is the best. In\nlike manner I introduced two \"gilt-gingerbread\" young ladies, who\nwere ideal, absolutely, utterly, without a shred of concrete\nexistence about them; and I introduced them with the remark that they\nwere \"really kind charitable persons,\" and \"_by no means_ put forth\nas _a type_ of a class,\" that \"among such persons were to be found\nthe gentlest spirits and the tenderest hearts,\" and that \"these\nsisters had open hands, if they had not wise heads,\" but that \"they\ndid not know much of matters ecclesiastical, and they knew less of\nthemselves.\"\n\nIt has been said, indeed, I know not to what extent, that I\nintroduced my friends or partisans into the tale; this is utterly\nuntrue. Only two cases of this misconception have come to my\nknowledge, and I at once denied each of them outright; and I take\nthis opportunity of denying generally the truth of all other similar\ncharges. No friend of mine, no one connected in any way with the\nMovement, entered into the composition of any one of the characters.\nIndeed, putting aside the two instances which have been distinctly\nbrought before me, I have not even any sort of suspicion who the\npersons are, whom I am thus accused of introducing.\n\n\nNext, this writer goes on to speak of Tract 90; a subject of which I\nhave treated at great length in a former passage of this narrative,\nand, in consequence, need not take up again now.\n\n4. Series of Lives of the English Saints\n\nI have given the history of this publication above at pp. 195-196. It\nwas to have consisted of almost 300 Lives, and I was to have been the\neditor. It was brought to an end, before it was well begun, by the\nact of friends who were frightened at the first Life printed, the\nLife of St. Stephen Harding. Thus I was not responsible except for\nthe first two numbers; and the advertisements distinctly declared\nthis. I had just the same responsibility about the other Lives, that\nmy assailant had, and not a bit more. However, it answers his purpose\nto consider me responsible.\n\nNext, I observe, that his delusion about \"hot-headed fanatic young\nmen\" continues: here again I figure with my strolling company. \"They\nsaid,\" he observes, \"what they believed; at least, what they had been\ntaught to believe that they ought to believe. And who had taught\nthem? Dr. Newman can best answer that question,\" p. 20. Well, I will\ndo what I can to solve the mystery.\n\nNow as to the juvenile writers in the proposed series. One was my\nfriend Mr. Bowden, who in 1843 was a man of 46 years old; he was to\nhave written St. Boniface. Another was Mr. Johnson, a man of 42; he\nwas to have written St. Aldelm. Another was the author of St.\nAugustine: let us hear something about him from this writer:--\n\n\"Dr. Newman,\" he says, \"might have said to the Author of the Life of\nSt. Augustine, when he found him, in _the heat and haste of youthful\nfanaticism_, outraging historic truth and the law of evidence, 'This\nmust not be.'\"--p. 20.\n\nGood. This juvenile was past 40--well, say 39. Blot _seventeen_.\n\"This must not be.\" This is what I ought to have said, it seems! And\nthen, you see, I have not the talent, and never had, of some people,\nfor lecturing my equals, much less men twenty years older than\nmyself.\n\n\nBut again, the author of St. Augustine's Life distinctly says in his\nadvertisement, \"_No one but himself_ is responsible for the way in\nwhich these materials have been used.\" Blot _eighteen_.\n\nThirty-three Lives were actually published. Out of the whole number\nthis writer notices _three_. Of these one is \"charming;\" therefore I\nam not to have the benefit of it. Another \"outrages historic truth\nand the law of evidence;\" therefore \"it was notoriously sanctioned by\nDr. Newman.\" And the third was \"one of the most offensive,\" and Dr.\nNewman must have formally connected himself with it in \"a moment of\namiable weakness.\"--p. 22. What even-handed justice is here! Blot\n_nineteen_.\n\n\nBut to return to the juvenile author of St. Augustine:--\"I found,\"\nsays this writer, \"the Life of St. Augustine saying, that, though the\npretended visit of St. Peter to England wanted _historic evidence_,\n'yet it has undoubtedly been received as a _pious opinion_ by the\nChurch at large, as we learn from the often-quoted words of St.\nInnocent I. (who wrote A.D. 416) that St. Peter was instrumental in\nthe conversion of the West generally.'\"--p. 21. He brings this\npassage against me (with which, however, I have nothing more to do\nthan he has) as a great misdemeanour; but let us see what his\ncriticism is worth. \"And this sort of argument,\" continues the\npassage, \"though it ought to be kept _quite distinct from_\ndocumentary and historic proof, will _not be without its effect_ on\ndevout minds,\" etc. I should have thought this a very sober doctrine,\nviz. that we must not confuse together two things quite distinct from\neach other, criticism and devotion, so proof and opinion--that a\n_devout_ mind will hold _opinions_ which it cannot demonstrate by\n\"historic _proof_.\" What, I ask, is the harm of saying this? Is\n_this_ my assailant's definition of opinion, \"a thing which _can_ be\nproved?\" I cannot answer for him, but I can answer for men in\ngeneral. Let him read Sir David Brewster's \"More Worlds than\nOne;\"--this principle, which is so shocking to my assailant, is\nprecisely the argument of Sir David's book; he tells us that the\nplurality of worlds _cannot_ be _proved_, but _will_ be _received_ by\nreligious men. He asks, p. 229, \"_If_ the stars are _not_ suns, for\nwhat conceivable _purpose_ were they created?\" and then he lays down\ndogmatically, p. 254, \"There is no _opinion_, _out of_ the region of\n_pure demonstration_, more universally _cherished_ than the doctrine\nof the Plurality of worlds.\" And in his title-page he styles this\n\"opinion\" \"the _creed_ of the philosopher and the _hope_ of the\nChristian.\" If Brewster may bring devotion into astronomy, why may\nnot my friend bring it into history? and that the more, when he\nactually declares that it ought to be kept _quite distinct_ from\nhistory, and by no means assumes that he is an historian because he\nis a hagiographer; whereas, somehow or other, Sir David does seem to\nme to show a zeal greater than becomes a _savant_, and to assume that\nhe himself is a theologian because he is an astronomer. This writer\nowes Sir David as well as me an apology. Blot _twenty_.\n\n\nHe ought to wish his original charge against me in the magazine dead\nand buried; but he has the good sense and good taste to revive it\nagain and again. This is one of the places which he has chosen for\nit. Let him then, just for a change, substitute Sir David Brewster\nfor me in his sentence; Sir David has quite as much right to the\ncompliment as I have, as far as this Life of St. Augustine is\nconcerned. Then he will be saying, that, because Sir David teaches\nthat the belief in more worlds than one is a pious opinion, and not a\ndemonstrated fact, he \"does not care for truth for its own sake, or\nteach men to regard it as a virtue,\" p. 21. Blot _twenty-one_.\n\n\nHowever, he goes on to give in this same page one other evidence of\nmy disregard of truth. The author of St. Augustine's Life also asks\nthe following question: \"_On what evidence_ do we put faith in the\nexistence of St. George, the patron of England? Upon such, assuredly,\nas an acute _critic or skillful pleader_ might easily scatter to the\nwinds; the belief of prejudiced or credulous witnesses, the unwritten\nrecord of empty pageants and bauble decorations. On the side of\nscepticism might be exhibited a powerful array of suspicious legends\nand exploded acts. Yet, _after all, what Catholic is there but would\ncount it a profaneness to question the existence of St. George?_\" On\nwhich my assailant observes, \"When I found Dr. Newman allowing his\ndisciples ... in page after page, in Life after Life, to talk\nnonsense of this kind which is not only sheer Popery, _but saps the\nvery foundation of historic truth_, was it so wonderful that I\nconceived him to have taught and thought like them?\" p. 22, that is,\nto have taught lying.\n\nWell and good; here again take a parallel; not St. George, but\nLycurgus.\n\nMr. Grote says: \"Plutarch begins his biography of Lycurgus with the\nfollowing ominous words: 'Concerning the lawgiver Lycurgus, we can\nassert _absolutely nothing_, which is not controverted. There are\ndifferent stories in respect to his birth, his travels, his death,\nand also his mode of proceeding, political as well as legislative:\nleast of all is the time in which he lived agreed on.' And this\nexordium _is but too well borne out_ by the unsatisfactory nature of\nthe accounts which we read, not only in Plutarch himself, but in\nthose other authors, out of whom we are obliged to make up our idea\nof the memorable Lycurgian system.\"--Greece, vol. ii. p 455. But\nBishop Thirlwall says, \"Experience proves that _scarcely any amount\nof variation_, as to the time or circumstances of a fact, in the\nauthors who record it, _can be a sufficient ground_ for doubting its\nreality.\"--Greece, vol. i. p. 332.\n\nAccordingly, my assailant is virtually saying of the latter of these\ntwo historians, \"When I found the Bishop of St. David's talking\nnonsense of this kind, which saps the very foundation of historic\ntruth,\" was it \"hasty or far-fetched\" to conclude \"that he did not\ncare for truth for its own sake, or teach his disciples to regard it\nas a virtue?\" p. 21. Nay, further, the Author of St. Augustine is no\nmore a disciple of mine, than the Bishop of St. David's is of my\nassailant's, and therefore the parallel will be more exact if I\naccuse this professor of history of _teaching_ Dr. Thirlwall not to\ncare for truth, as a virtue, for its own sake. Blot _twenty-two_.\n\n\nIt is hard on me to have this dull, profitless work. But I have\npledged myself;--so now for St. Walburga.\n\nNow will it be believed that this writer suppresses the fact that the\nmiracles of St. Walburga are treated by the author of her Life as\nmythical? yet that is the tone of the whole composition. This writer\ncan notice it in the Life of St. Neot, the first of the three Lives\nwhich he criticises; these are his words: \"Some of them, the writers,\nfor instance, of Volume 4, which contains, among others, a charming\nlife of St. Neot, treat the stories openly as legends and myths, and\ntell them as they stand, without asking the reader, or themselves, to\nbelieve them altogether. The method is harmless enough, if the\nlegends had stood alone; but dangerous enough, when they stand side\nby side with stories told in earnest, like that of St. Walburga.\"--p.\n22.\n\nNow, first, that the miraculous stories _are_ treated, in the Life of\nSt. Walburga, as legends and myths. Throughout, the miracles and\nextraordinary occurrences are spoken of as \"said\" or \"reported;\" and\nthe suggestion is made that, even though they occurred, they might\nhave been after all natural. Thus, in one of the very passages which\nmy assailant quotes, the author says, \"Illuminated men feel the\nprivileges of Christianity, and to them the evil influence of Satanic\npower is horribly discernible, like the Egyptian darkness which could\nbe felt; and _the only way to express_ their keen perception of it is\n_to say_, that they _see_ upon the countenances of the slaves of sin,\nthe marks, and lineaments, and stamp of the evil one; and [that] they\n_smell_ with their nostrils the horrible fumes that arise from their\n_vices_ and uncleansed _heart_,\" etc. p.78. This introduces St.\nSturme and the gambolling Germans; what does it mean but that \"the\nintolerable scent\" was nothing physical, or strictly miraculous, but\nthe horror, parallel to physical distress, with which the saint was\naffected, from his knowledge of the state of their souls? My\nassailant is a lucky man, if mental pain has never come upon him with\na substance and a volume, as forcible as if it were bodily.\n\nAnd so in like manner, the author of the Life says, as this writer\nactually has quoted him, \"a story _was told and believed_,\" p. 94.\n\"One evening, _says her history_,\" p. 87. \"Another incident _is thus\nrelated_,\" p. 88. \"Immediately, _says_ Wuelfhard,\" p. 91. \"A vast\nnumber of other cases are _recorded_,\" p. 92. And there is a distinct\nintimation that they may be myths, in a passage which this assailant\nhimself quotes, \"All these have the _character_ of a gentle mother\ncorrecting the idleness and faults of careless and thoughtless\nchildren with tenderness.\"--p. 95. I think the criticism which he\nmakes upon this Life is one of the most wanton passages in his\npamphlet. The Life is beautifully written, full of poetry, and, as I\nhave said, bears on its very surface the profession of a legendary\nand mythical character. Blot _twenty-three_.\n\n\nIn saying all this, I have no intention whatever of implying that\nmiracles did not illustrate the Life of St. Walburga; but neither the\nauthor nor I have bound ourselves to the belief of certain instances\nin particular. My assailant, in the passage which I just now quoted\nfrom him, made some distinction, which was apparently intended to\nsave St. Neot, while it condemned St. Walburga. He said that legends\nare \"dangerous enough, when they stand side by side with stories told\nin earnest like St. Walburga.\" He will find he has here Dr. Milman\nagainst him, as he has already had Sir David Brewster, and the Bishop\nof St. David's. He accuses me of having \"outraged historic truth and\nthe law of evidence,\" because friends of mine have considered that,\nthough opinions need not be convictions, nevertheless that legends\nmay be connected with history: now, on the contrary, let us hear the\nDean of St. Paul's:--\n\n\"_History_, to be _true_, must condescend to speak the language of\n_legend_; the _belief_ of the times is _part_ of the _record_ of the\ntimes; and, though there may occur what may baffle its more calm and\nsearching philosophy, it _must not disdain_ that which was the\nprimal, almost universal, motive of human life.\"--Latin. Christ.,\nvol. i. p. 388. Dr. Milman's decision justifies me in putting this\ndown as Blot _twenty-four_.\n\n\nHowever, there is one miraculous account for which this writer makes\nme directly answerable, and with reason; and with it I shall conclude\nmy reply to his criticisms on the \"Lives of the English Saints.\" It\nis the medicinal oil which flows from the relics of St. Walburga.\n\nNow, as I shall have occasion to remark under my next head, these two\nquestions among others occur, in judging of a miraculous story; viz.\nwhether the matter of it is extravagant, and whether it is a fact.\nAnd first, it is plain there is nothing extravagant in this report of\nthe relics having a supernatural virtue; and for this reason, because\nthere are such instances in Scripture, and Scripture cannot be\nextravagant. For instance, a man was restored to life by touching the\nrelics of the prophet Eliseus. The sacred text runs thus:--\"And\nElisha died, and they buried him. And the bands of the Moabites\ninvaded the land at the coming in of the year. And it came to pass,\nas they were burying a man, that, behold, they spied a band of men;\nand they cast the man into the sepulchre of Elisha. And, when the man\nwas let down, _and touched the bones of Elisha, he revived_, and\nstood upon his feet.\" Again, in the case of an inanimate substance,\nwhich had touched a living saint: \"And God wrought _special miracles_\nby the hands of Paul; so that _from his body_ were brought unto the\nsick _handkerchiefs or aprons_, and _the diseases departed from\nthem_.\" And again in the case of a pool: \"An _angel went down_ at a\ncertain season into the pool, and troubled the water; whosoever then\nfirst, after the troubling of the water, stepped in, _was made whole\nof whatsoever disease_ he had.\" 2 Kings [4 Kings] xiii. 20, 21. Acts\nxix. 11, 12. John v. 4. Therefore there is nothing _extravagant_ in\nthe _character_ of the miracle.\n\nThe main question then (I do not say the only remaining question, but\nthe main question) is the _matter of fact_:--_is_ there an oil\nflowing from St. Walburga's tomb, which is medicinal? To this\nquestion I confined myself in the Preface to the volume. Of the\naccounts of medieval miracles, I said that there was no\n_extravagance_ in their _general character_, but I could not affirm\nthat there was always _evidence_ for them. I could not simply accept\nthem as _facts_, but I could not reject them in their _nature_; they\n_might_ be true, for they were not impossible: but they were _not\nproved_ to be true, because there was not trustworthy testimony.\nHowever, as to St. Walburga, I made _one_ exception, the fact of the\nmedicinal oil, since for that miracle there was distinct and\nsuccessive testimony. And then I went on to give a chain of\nwitnesses. It was my duty to state what those witnesses said in their\nvery words; and I did so; they were in Latin, and I gave them in\nLatin. One of them speaks of the \"sacrum oleum\" flowing \"de membris\nejus virgineis, maxime tamen pectoralibus;\" and I so printed it;--if\nI had left it out, this sweet-tempered writer would have accused me\nof an \"economy.\" I gave the testimonies in full, tracing them from\nthe saint's death. I said, \"She is one of the principal Saints of her\nage and country.\" Then I quoted Basnage, a Protestant, who says, \"Six\nwriters are extant, who have employed themselves in relating the\ndeeds or miracles of Walburga.\" Then I said that her \"renown was not\nthe mere natural _growth_ of ages, but begins with the very century\nof the Saint's death.\" Then I observed that only two miracles seem to\nhave been \"distinctly reported of her as occurring in her lifetime;\nand they were handed down apparently by tradition.\" Also, that they\nare said to have commenced about A.D. 777. Then I spoke of the\nmedicinal oil as having testimony to it in 893, in 1306, after 1450,\nin 1615, and in 1620. Also, I said that Mabillon seems not to have\nbelieved some of her miracles; and that the earliest witness had got\ninto trouble with his bishop. And so I left it, as a question to be\ndecided by evidence, not deciding anything myself.\n\nWhat was the harm of all this? but my critic has muddled it together\nin a most extraordinary manner, and I am far from sure that he knows\nhimself the definite categorical charge which he intends it to convey\nagainst me. One of his remarks is, \"What has become of the holy oil\nfor the last 240 years, Dr. Newman does not say,\" p. 25. Of course I\ndid not, because I did not know; I gave the evidence as I found it;\nhe assumes that I had a point to prove, and then asks why I did not\nmake the evidence larger than it was. I put this down as Blot\n_twenty-five_.\n\nI can tell him more about it now; the oil still flows; I have had\nsome of it in my possession; it is medicinal; some think it is so by\na natural quality, others by a divine gift. Perhaps it is on the\nconfines of both.\n\n5. Ecclesiastical Miracles\n\nWhat is the use of going on with this writer's criticisms upon me,\nwhen I am confined to the dull monotony of exposing and oversetting\nhim again and again, with a persistence, which many will think\nmerciless, and few will have the interest to read? Yet I am obliged\nto do so, lest I should seem to be evading difficulties.\n\nNow as to Miracles. Catholics believe that they happen in any age of\nthe Church, though not for the same purposes, in the same number, or\nwith the same evidence, as in apostolic times. The apostles wrought\nthem in evidence of their divine mission; and with this object they\nhave been sometimes wrought by evangelists of countries since, as\neven Protestants allow. Hence we hear of them in the history of St.\nGregory in Pontus, and St. Martin in Gaul; and in their case, as in\nthat of the apostles, they were both numerous and clear. As they are\ngranted to evangelists, so are they granted, though in less measure\nand evidence, to other holy men; and as holy men are not found\nequally at all times and in all places, therefore miracles are in\nsome places and times more than in others. And since, generally, they\nare granted to faith and prayer, therefore in a country in which\nfaith and prayer abound, they will be more likely to occur, than\nwhere and when faith and prayer are not; so that their occurrence is\nirregular. And further, as faith and prayer obtain miracles, so still\nmore commonly do they gain from above the ordinary interventions of\nProvidence; and, as it is often very difficult to distinguish between\na providence and a miracle, and there will be more providences than\nmiracles, hence it will happen that many occurrences will be called\nmiraculous, which, strictly speaking, are not such, and not more than\nprovidential mercies, or what are sometimes called \"graces\" or\n\"favours.\"\n\nPersons who believe all this, in accordance with Catholic teaching,\nas I did and do, they, on the report of a miracle, will of necessity,\nthe necessity of good logic, be led to say, first, \"It _may_ be,\" and\nsecondly, \"But I must have _good evidence_ in order to believe it.\"\nIt _may_ be, because miracles take place in all ages; it must be\nclearly _proved_, because perhaps after all it may be only a\nprovidential mercy, or an exaggeration, or a mistake, or an\nimposture. Well, this is precisely what I have said, which this\nwriter considers so irrational. I have said, as he quotes me, p. 24,\n\"In this day, and under our present circumstances, we can only reply,\nthat there is no reason why they should not be.\" Surely this is good\nlogic, _provided_ that miracles _do_ occur in all ages; and so again\nis it logical to say, \"There is nothing, _prima facie_, in the\nmiraculous accounts in question, to repel a _properly taught_ or\nreligiously disposed mind.\" What is the matter with this statement?\nMy assailant does not pretend to say _what_ the matter is, and he\ncannot; but he expresses a rude, unmeaning astonishment. Next, I\nstated _what_ evidence there is for the miracles of which I was\nspeaking; what is the harm of that? He observes, \"What evidence Dr.\nNewman requires, he makes evident at once. He at least will fear for\nhimself, and swallow the whole as it comes.\"--p. 24. What random\nabuse is this, or, to use _his own words_ of me just before, what\n\"stuff and nonsense!\" What is it I am \"swallowing\"? \"the whole\" what?\nthe evidence? or the miracles? I have swallowed neither, nor implied\nany such thing. Blot _twenty-six_.\n\n\nBut to return: I have just said that a Catholic's state of mind, of\nlogical necessity, will be, \"It _may_ be a miracle, but it has to be\n_proved_.\" _What_ has to be proved? 1. That the event occurred as\nstated, and is not a false report or an exaggeration. 2. That it is\nclearly miraculous, and not a mere providence or answer to prayer\nwithin the order of nature. What is the fault of saying this? The\ninquiry is parallel to that which is made about some extraordinary\nfact in secular history. Supposing I hear that King Charles II. died\na Catholic, I should say, 1. It _may_ be. 2. What is your _proof_?\nAccordingly, in the passage which this writer quotes, I observe,\n\"Miracles are the kind of facts proper to ecclesiastical history,\njust as instances of sagacity or daring, personal prowess, or crime,\nare the facts proper to secular history.\" What is the harm of this?\nBut this writer says, \"Verily his [Dr. Newman's] idea of secular\nhistory is almost as degraded as his idea of ecclesiastical,\" p. 24,\nand he ends with this muddle of an _Ipse dixit_! Blot _twenty-seven_.\n\n\nIn like manner, about the Holy Coat at Treves, he says of me, \"Dr.\nNewman ... seems _hardly sure_ of the authenticity of the Holy Coat.\"\nWhy _need_ I be, more than I am sure that Richard III. murdered the\nlittle princes? If I have not _means_ of making up my mind one way or\nthe other, surely my most logical course is \"_not_ to be sure.\" He\ncontinues, \"Dr. Newman 'does not see _why it may not have been_ what\nit professes to be.'\" Well, is not that just what this writer would\nsay of a great number of the facts recorded in secular history? is it\nnot what he would be obliged to say of much that is told us about the\narmour and other antiquities in the Tower of London? To this I\nalluded in the passage from which he quotes; but he has _garbled_\nthat passage, and I must show it. He quotes me to this effect: \"Is\nthe Tower of London shut against sight-seers because the coats of\nmail or pikes there may have half-legendary tales connected with\nthem? why then may not the country people come up in joyous\ncompanies, singing and piping, to _see_ the holy coat at Treves?\" On\nthis he remarks, \"To _see_, forsooth! to _worship_, Dr. Newman would\nhave said, had he known (as I take for granted he does not) the facts\nof that imposture.\" Here, if I understand him, he implies that the\npeople came up, not only to see, but to worship, and that I have\nslurred over the fact that their coming was an act of religious\nhomage, that is, what _he_ would call \"worship.\" Now, will it be\nbelieved that, so far from concealing this, I had carefully stated it\nin the sentence immediately preceding, and _he suppresses it_? I say,\n\"The world pays civil honour to it [a jewel said to be Alfred's] on\nthe probability; we pay _religious honour_ to relics, if so be, on\nthe probability. Is the Tower of London,\" I proceed, \"shut,\" etc.\nBlot _twenty-eight_.\n\n\nThese words of mine, however, are but one sentence in a long\nargument, conveying the Catholic view on the subject of\necclesiastical miracles; and, as it is carefully worked out, and very\nmuch to the present point, and will save me doing over again what I\ncould not do better or more fully now, if I set about it, I shall\nmake a very long extract from the Lecture in which it occurs, and so\nbring this Head to an end.\n\nThe argument, I should first observe, which is worked out, is this,\nthat Catholics set out with a definite religious tenet as a first\nprinciple, and Protestants with a contrary one, and that on this\naccount it comes to pass that miracles are credible to Catholics and\nincredible to Protestants.\n\n\"We affirm that the Supreme Being has wrought miracles on earth ever\nsince the time of the Apostles; Protestants deny it. Why do we\naffirm, why do they deny? We affirm it on a first principle, they\ndeny it on a first principle; and on either side the first principle\nis made to be decisive of the question ... Both they and we start\nwith the miracles of the Apostles; and then their first principle or\npresumption against our miracles is this, 'What God did once, He is\n_not_ likely to do again;' while our first principle or presumption\nfor our miracles is this; 'What God did once, He _is_ likely to do\nagain.' They say, It cannot be supposed He will work _many_ miracles;\nwe, It cannot be supposed He will work _few_.\n\n\"The Protestant, I say, laughs at the very idea of miracles or\nsupernatural powers as occurring at this day; his first principle is\nrooted in him; he repels from him the idea of miracles; he laughs at\nthe notion of evidence; one is just as likely as another; they are\nall false. Why? because of his first principle, There are no miracles\nsince the Apostles. Here, indeed, is a short and easy way of getting\nrid of the whole subject, not by reason, but by a first principle\nwhich he calls reason. Yes, it _is_ reason, granting his first\nprinciple is true; it is not reason, supposing his first principle is\nfalse.\n\n\"There is in the Church a vast tradition and testimony about\nmiracles; how is it to be accounted for? If miracles _can_ take\nplace, then the _fact_ of the miracle will be a natural explanation\nof the _report_, just as the fact of a man dying accounts\nsatisfactorily for the news that he is dead; but the Protestant\ncannot so explain it, because he thinks miracles cannot take place;\nso he is necessarily driven, by way of accounting for the report of\nthem, to impute that report to fraud. He cannot help himself. I\nrepeat it; the whole mass of accusations which Protestants bring\nagainst us under this head, Catholic credulity, imposture, pious\nfrauds, hypocrisy, priestcraft, this vast and varied superstructure\nof imputation, you see, all rests on an assumption, on an opinion of\ntheirs, for which they offer no kind of proof. What then, in fact, do\nthey say more than this, _If_ Protestantism be true, you Catholics\nare a most awful set of knaves? Here, at least, is a most sensible\nand undeniable position.\n\n\"Now, on the other hand, let me take our own side of the question,\nand consider how we ourselves stand relatively to the charge made\nagainst us. Catholics, then, hold the mystery of the Incarnation;\nand the Incarnation is the most stupendous event which ever can take\nplace on earth; and after it and henceforth, I do not see how we\ncan scruple at any miracle on the mere ground of its being unlikely\nto happen.... When we start with assuming that miracles are not\nunlikely, we are putting forth a position which lies embedded, as it\nwere, and involved in the great revealed fact of the Incarnation. So\nmuch is plain on starting; but more is plain too. Miracles are not\nonly not unlikely, but they are positively likely; and for this\nsimple reason, because for the most part, when God begins, He goes\non. We conceive, that when He first did a miracle, He began a series;\nwhat He commenced, He continued: what has been, will be. Surely this\nis good and clear reasoning. To my own mind, certainly, it is\nincomparably more difficult to believe that the Divine Being should\ndo one miracle and no more, than that He should do a thousand; that\nHe should do one great miracle only, than that He should do a\nmultitude of lesser besides.... If the Divine Being does a thing\nonce, He is, judging by human reason, likely to do it again. This\nsurely is common sense. If a beggar gets food at a gentleman's house\nonce, does he not send others thither after him? If you are attacked\nby thieves once, do you forthwith leave your windows open at night?\n... Nay, suppose you yourselves were once to see a miracle, would you\nnot feel the occurrence to be like passing a line? would you, in\nconsequence of it, declare, 'I never will believe another if I hear\nof one?' would it not, on the contrary, predispose you to listen to a\nnew report? ...\n\n\"When I hear the report of a miracle, my first feeling would be of\nthe same kind as if it were a report of any natural exploit or event.\nSupposing, for instance, I heard a report of the death of some public\nman; it would not startle me, even if I did not at once credit it,\nfor all men must die. Did I read of any great feat of valour, I\nshould believe it, if imputed to Alexander or Coeur de Lion. Did\nI hear of any act of baseness, I should disbelieve it, if imputed to\na friend whom I knew and loved. And so in like manner were a miracle\nreported to me as wrought by a Member of Parliament, or a Bishop of\nthe Establishment, or a Wesleyan preacher, I should repudiate the\nnotion: were it referred to a saint, or the relic of a saint, or the\nintercession of a saint, I should not be startled at it, though I\nmight not at once believe it. And I certainly should be right in\nthis conduct, supposing my First Principle be true. Miracles to\nthe Catholic are historical facts, and nothing short of this; and\nthey are to be regarded and dealt with as other facts; and as\nnatural facts, under circumstances, do not startle Protestants, so\nsupernatural, under circumstances, do not startle the Catholic. They\nmay or may not have taken place in particular cases; he may be unable\nto determine which, he may have no distinct evidence; he may suspend\nhis judgment, but he will say 'It is very possible;' he never will\nsay 'I cannot believe it.'\n\n\"Take the history of Alfred; you know his wise, mild, beneficent, yet\ndaring character, and his romantic vicissitudes of fortune. This\ngreat king has a number of stories, or, as you may call them, legends\ntold of him. Do you believe them all? no. Do you, on the other hand,\nthink them incredible? no. Do you call a man a dupe or a block-head\nfor believing them? no. Do you call an author a knave or a cheat who\nrecords them? no. You go into neither extreme, whether of implicit\nfaith or of violent reprobation. You are not so extravagant; you see\nthat they suit his character, they may have happened: yet this is\nso romantic, that has so little evidence, a third is so confused in\ndates or in geography, that you are in matter of fact indisposed\ntowards them. Others are probably true, others certainly. Nor do you\nforce every one to take your view of particular stories; you and your\nneighbour think differently about this or that in detail, and agree\nto differ. There is in the museum at Oxford, a jewel or trinket said\nto be Alfred's; it is shown to all comers; I never heard the keeper\nof the museum accused of hypocrisy or fraud for showing, with\nAlfred's name appended, what he might or might not himself believe to\nhave belonged to that great king; nor did I ever see any party of\nstrangers who were looking at it with awe, regarded by any\nself-complacent bystander with scornful compassion. Yet the curiosity\nis not to a certainty Alfred's. The world pays civil honour to it on\nthe probability; we pay religious honour to relics, if so be, on the\nprobability. Is the Tower of London shut against sight-seers, because\nthe coats of mail and pikes there may have half-legendary tales\nconnected with them? why then may not the country people come up in\njoyous companies, singing and piping, to see the Holy Coat at Treves?\nThere is our Queen again, who is so truly and justly popular; she\nroves about in the midst of tradition and romance; she scatters myths\nand legends from her as she goes along; she is a being of poetry, and\nyou might fairly be sceptical whether she had any personal existence.\nShe is always at some beautiful, noble, bounteous work or other, if\nyou trust the papers. She is doing alms-deeds in the Highlands; she\nmeets beggars in her rides at Windsor; she writes verses in albums,\nor draws sketches, or is mistaken for the house-keeper by some\nblind old woman, or she runs up a hill as if she were a child. Who\nfinds fault with these things? he would be a cynic, he would be\nwhite-livered, and would have gall for blood, who was not struck with\nthis graceful, touching evidence of the love her subjects bear her.\nWho could have the head, even if he had the heart, who could be so\ncross and peevish, who could be so solemn and perverse, as to say\nthat some of these stories _may_ be simple lies, and all of them\nmight have stronger evidence than they carry with them? Do you think\nshe is displeased at them? Why then should He, the Great Father, who\nonce walked the earth, look sternly on the unavoidable mistakes of\nHis own subjects and children in their devotion to Him and His? Even\ngranting they mistake some cases in particular, from the infirmity of\nhuman nature and the contingencies of evidence, and fancy there is or\nhas been a miracle here and there when there is not, though a\ntradition, attached to a picture, or to a shrine, or a well, be very\ndoubtful, though one relic be sometimes mistaken for another, and St.\nTheodore stands for St. Eugenius or St. Agathocles, still, once take\ninto account our First Principle, that He is likely to continue\nmiracles among us, which is as good as the Protestant's, and I do not\nsee why He should feel much displeasure with us on account of this,\nor should cease to work wonders in our behalf. In the Protestant's\nview, indeed, who assumes that miracles never are, our thaumatology\nis one great falsehood; but that is _his_ First Principle, as I have\nsaid so often, which he does not prove but assume. If _he_, indeed,\nupheld _our_ system, or _we_ held _his_ principle, in either case he\nor we should be impostors; but though we should be partners to a\nfraud if we thought like Protestants, we surely are not if we think\nlike Catholics.\n\n\"Such then is the answer I make to those who would urge against us\nthe multitude of miracles recorded in our Saints' Lives and\ndevotional works, for many of which there is little evidence, and\nfor some next to none. We think them true in the same sense in which\nProtestants think the history of England true. When they say _that_,\nthey do not mean to say that there are no mistakes, but no mistakes\nof consequence, none which alter the general course of history. Nor\ndo they mean they are equally sure of every part; for evidence is\nfuller and better for some things than for others. They do not stake\ntheir credit on the truth of Froissart or Sully, they do not pledge\nthemselves for the accuracy of Doddington or Walpole, they do not\nembrace as an Evangelist Hume, Sharon Turner, or Macaulay. And yet\nthey do not think it necessary, on the other hand, to commence a\nreligious war against all our historical catechisms, and abstracts,\nand dictionaries, and tales, and biographies, through the country;\nthey have no call on them to amend and expurgate books of archaeology,\nantiquities, heraldry, architecture, geography, and statistics, to\nre-write our inscriptions, and to establish a censorship on all new\npublications for the time to come. And so as regards the miracles of\nthe Catholic Church; if, indeed, miracles never can occur, then,\nindeed, impute the narratives to fraud; but till you prove they are\nnot likely, we shall consider the histories which have come down\nto us true on the whole, though in particular cases they may be\nexaggerated or unfounded. Where, indeed, they can certainly be proved\nto be false, there we shall be bound to do our best to get rid of\nthem; but till that is clear, we shall be liberal enough to allow\nothers to use their private judgment in their favour, as we use ours\nin their disparagement. For myself, lest I appear in any way to be\nshrinking from a determinate judgment on the claims of some of those\nmiracles and relics, which Protestants are so startled at, and to be\nhiding particular questions in what is vague and general, I will avow\ndistinctly, that, _putting out of the question_ the _hypothesis of\nunknown laws of nature_ (which is an evasion from the force of any\nproof), I think it impossible to _withstand the evidence_ which is\nbrought for the liquefaction of the blood of St. Januarius at Naples,\nand for the motion of the eyes of the pictures of the Madonna in the\nRoman States. I _see no reason to doubt_ the material of the Lombard\ncrown at Monza; and I _do not see why_ the Holy Coat at Treves may\nnot have been what it professes to be. I _firmly believe_ that\nportions of the True Cross are at Rome and elsewhere, that the Crib\nof Bethlehem is at Rome, and the bodies of St. Peter and St. Paul\nalso.... Many men when they hear an educated man so speak, will at\nonce impute the avowal to insanity, or to an idiosyncrasy, or to\nimbecility of mind, or to decrepitude of powers, or to fanaticism, or\nto hypocrisy. They have a right to say so, if they will; and we have\na right to ask them why they do not say it of those who bow down\nbefore the Mystery of mysteries, the Divine Incarnation?\"\n\n\nIn my Essay on Miracles of the year 1826, I proposed three questions\nabout a professed miraculous occurrence, 1. is it antecedently\n_probable_? 2. is it in its _nature_ certainly miraculous? 3. has it\nsufficient _evidence_? These are the three heads under which I still\nwish to conduct the inquiry into the miracles of ecclesiastical\nhistory.\n\n6. Popular Religion\n\nThis writer uses much rhetoric against a lecture of mine, in which I\nbring out, as honestly as I can, the state of countries which have\nlong received the Catholic Faith, and hold it by the force of\ntradition, universal custom, and legal establishment; a lecture in\nwhich I give pictures, drawn principally from the middle ages, of\nwhat, considering the corruption of the human race generally, that\nstate is sure to be--pictures of its special sins and offences, _sui\ngeneris_, which are the result of that faith when it is separated\nfrom love or charity, or of what Scripture calls a \"dead faith,\" of\nthe light shining in darkness, and the truth held in unrighteousness.\nThe nearest approach which this writer is able to make towards\nstating what I have said in this lecture, is to state the very\nreverse. Observe: we have already had some instances of the haziness\nof his ideas concerning the \"Notes of the Church.\" These notes are,\nas any one knows who has looked into the subject, certain great and\nsimple characteristics, which He who founded the Church has stamped\nupon her in order to draw both the reason and the imagination of men\nto her, as being really a divine work, and a religion distinct from\nall other religious communities; the principal of these notes being\nthat she is Holy, One, Catholic, and Apostolic, as the Creed says.\nNow, to use his own word, he has the incredible \"audacity\" to say,\nthat I have declared, not the divine characteristics of the Church,\nbut the sins and scandals in her, to be her Notes--as if I made God\nthe author of evil. He says distinctly, \"Dr. Newman, with a kind of\ndesperate audacity, _will_ dig forth such _scandals_ as _Notes_ of\nthe Catholic Church.\" This is what I get at his hands for my honesty.\nBlot _twenty-nine_.\n\n\nAgain, he says, \"[Dr. Newman uses] the blasphemy and profanity which\nhe confesses to be so common in Catholic countries, as an argument\n_for_, and not _against_ the 'Catholic Faith.'\"--p. 34. That is,\nbecause I admit that profaneness exists in the Church, therefore I\nconsider it a token of the Church. Yes, certainly, just as our\nnational form of cursing is an evidence of the being of a God, and as\na gallows is the glorious sign of a civilised country,--but in no\nother way. Blot _thirty_.\n\n\nWhat is it that I really say? I say as follows: Protestants object\nthat the communion of Rome does not fulfil satisfactorily the\nexpectation which we may justly form concerning the true Church, as\nit is delineated in the four notes, enumerated in the Creed; and\namong others, _e.g._ in the note of sanctity; and they point, in\nproof of what they assert, to the state of Catholic countries. Now,\nin answer to this objection, it is plain what I might have done, if I\nhad not had a conscience. I might have denied the fact. I might have\nsaid, for instance, that the middle ages were as virtuous, as they\nwere believing. I might have denied that there was any violence, any\nsuperstition, any immorality, any blasphemy during them. And so as to\nthe state of countries which have long had the light of Catholic\ntruth, and have degenerated. I might have admitted nothing against\nthem, and explained away everything which plausibly told to their\ndisadvantage. I did nothing of the kind; and what effect has this had\nupon this estimable critic? \"Dr. Newman takes a seeming pleasure,\" he\nsays, \"in detailing instances of dishonesty on the part of\nCatholics.\"--p. 34. Blot _thirty-one_. Any one who knows me well,\nwould testify that my \"seeming pleasure,\" as he calls it, at such\nthings, is just the impatient sensitiveness, which relieves itself by\nmeans of a definite delineation of what is so hateful to it.\n\nHowever, to pass on. All the miserable scandals of Catholic\ncountries, taken at the worst, are, as I view the matter, no argument\nagainst the Church itself; and the reason which I give in the lecture\nis, that, according to the proverb, Corruptio optimi est pessima. The\nJews could sin in a way no other contemporary race could sin, for\ntheirs was a sin against light; and Catholics can sin with a depth\nand intensity with which Protestants cannot sin. There will be more\nblasphemy, more hatred of God, more of diabolical rebellion, more of\nawful sacrilege, more of vile hypocrisy in a Catholic country than\nanywhere else, because there is in it more of sin against light.\nSurely, this is just what Scripture says, \"Woe unto thee, Chorazin!\nwoe unto thee, Bethsaida!\" And, again, surely what is told us by\nreligious men, say by Father Bresciani, about the present unbelieving\nparty in Italy, fully bears out the divine text: \"If, after they have\nescaped the pollutions of the world ... they are again entangled\ntherein and overcome, the latter end is worse with them than the\nbeginning. For it had been better for them not to have known the way\nof righteousness, than, after they have known it, to turn from the\nholy commandments delivered unto them.\"\n\nAnd what is true of those who thus openly oppose themselves to the\ntruth, as it was true of the Evil One in the beginning, will in an\nanalogous way be true in the case of all sin, be it of a heavier or\nlighter character, which is found in a Catholic country:--sin will be\nstrangely tinged or dyed by religious associations or beliefs, and\nwill exhibit the tragical inconsistencies of the excess of knowledge\nover love, or of much faith with little obedience. The mysterious\nbattle between good and evil will assume in a Catholic country its\nmost frightful shape, when it is not the collision of two distinct\nand far-separated hosts, but when it is carried on in hearts\nand souls, taken one by one, and when the eternal foes are so\nintermingled and interfused that to human eyes they seem to coalesce\ninto a multitude of individualities. This is in course of years, the\nreal, the hidden condition of a nation, which has been bathed in\nChristian ideas, whether it be a young vigorous race, or an old and\ndegenerate; and it will manifest itself socially and historically\nin those characteristics, sometimes grotesque, sometimes hideous,\nsometimes despicable, of which we have so many instances, medieval\nand modern, both in this hemisphere and in the western. It is, I say,\nthe necessary result of the intercommunion of divine faith and human\ncorruption.\n\nBut it has a light side as well as a dark. First, much which seems\nprofane, is not in itself profane, but in the subjective view of the\nProtestant beholder. Scenic representations of our Lord's Passion are\nnot profane to a Catholic population; in like manner, there are\nusages, customs, institutions, actions, often of an indifferent\nnature, which will be necessarily mixed up with religion in a\nCatholic country, because all things whatever are so mixed up.\nProtestants have been sometimes shocked, most absurdly as a Catholic\nrightly decides, at hearing that Mass is sometimes said for a good\nhaul of fish. There is no sin here, but only a difference from\nProtestant customs. Other phenomena of a Catholic nation are at most\nmere extravagances. And then as to what is really sinful, if there be\nin it fearful instances of blasphemy or superstition, there are also\nspecial and singular fruits and exhibitions of sanctity; and, if\nthe many do not seem to lead better lives for all their religious\nknowledge, at least they learn, as they can learn nowhere else, how\nto repent thoroughly and to die well.\n\nThe visible state of a country, which professes Catholicism, need not\nbe the measure of the spiritual result of that Catholicism, at the\neternal judgment seat; but no one could say that that visible state\nwas a note that Catholicism was divine.\n\nAll this I attempted to bring out in the lecture of which I am\nspeaking; and that I had some success, I am glad to infer from the\nmessage of congratulation upon it, which I received at the time, from\na foreign Catholic layman, of high English reputation, with whom I\nhad not the honour of a personal acquaintance. And having given the\nkey to the lecture, which the writer so wonderfully misrepresents,\nI pass on to another head.\n\n7. The Economy\n\nFor the subject of the Economy, I shall refer to my discussion upon\nit in my History of the Arians, after one word about this writer. He\nputs into his title-page these words from a sermon of mine: \"It is\nnot more than an hyperbole to say, that, in certain cases, a lie is\nthe nearest approach to truth.\" This sermon he attacks; but I do not\nthink it necessary to defend it here, because any one who reads it,\nwill see that he is simply incapable of forming a notion of what it\nis about. It treats of subjects which are entirely out of his depth;\nand, as I have already shown in other instances, and observed in the\nbeginning of this volume, he illustrates in his own person the very\nthing that shocks him, viz. that the nearest approach to truth, in\ngiven cases, is a lie. He does his best to make something of it, I\nbelieve; but he gets simply perplexed. He finds that it annihilates\nspace, robs him of locomotion, almost scoffs at the existence of the\nearth, and he is simply frightened and cowed. He can but say \"the man\nwho wrote that sermon was already past the possibility of conscious\ndishonesty,\" p. 41. Perhaps it is hardly fair, after such a\nconfession on his part of being fairly beat, to mark down a blot;\nhowever, let it be Blot _thirty-two_.\n\n\nThen again, he quotes from me thus: \"Many a theory or view of things,\non which an institution is founded, or a party held together, is of\nthe same kind (economical). Many an argument, used by zealous and\nearnest men, has this economical character, being not the very ground\non which they act (for they continue in the same course, though it be\nrefuted), yet in a certain sense, a representation of it, a proximate\ndescription of their feelings, in the shape of argument, on which\nthey can rest, to which they can recur when perplexed, and appeal\nwhen they are questioned.\" He calls these \"startling words,\" p. 39.\nYet here again he illustrates their truth; for in his own case, he\nhas acted on them in this very controversy with the most happy\nexactness. Surely he referred to my sermon on Wisdom and Innocence,\nwhen called on to prove me a liar, as \"a proximate description of his\nfeelings about me, in the shape of argument,\" and he has \"continued\nin the same course though it has been refuted.\" Blot _thirty-three_.\n\n\nThen, as to \"a party being held together by a mythical\nrepresentation,\" or economy. Surely \"Church and King,\" \"Reform,\"\n\"Non-intervention,\" are such symbols; or let this writer answer Mr.\nKinglake's question in his \"Crimean War,\" \"Is it true that ... great\narmies were gathering, and that for the sake of the _Key_ and the\n_Star_ the peace of the nations was brought into danger?\" Blot\n_thirty-four_.\n\n\nIn the beginning of this work, pp. 17-23, I refuted his gratuitous\naccusation against me at p. 42, founded on my calling one of my\nAnglican sermons a Protestant one: so I have nothing to do but to\nregister it here as Blot _thirty-five_.\n\n\nThen he says that I committed an economy in placing in my original\ntitle-page, that the question between him and me, was whether \"Dr.\nNewman teaches that Truth is no virtue.\" It was a \"wisdom of the\nserpentine type,\" since I did not add, \"for its own sake.\" Now\nobserve: First, as to the matter of fact, in the course of my\nLetters, which bore that title-page, I printed the words \"for its own\nsake,\" _five_ times over. Next, pray, what kind of a virtue is that,\nwhich is _not_ done for its own sake? So this, after all, is this\nwriter's idea of virtue! a something that is done for the sake of\nsomething _else_; a sort of expedience! He is honest, it seems,\nsimply _because_ honesty is \"the best policy,\" and on that score it\nis that he thinks himself virtuous. Why, \"for its own sake\" enters\ninto the very idea or definition of a virtue. Defend me from such\nvirtuous men, as this writer would inflict upon us! Blot\n_thirty-six_.\n\n\nThese blots are enough just now; so I proceed to a brief sketch of\nwhat I held in 1833 upon the Economy, as a rule of practice. I wrote\nthis two months ago; perhaps the composition is not quite in keeping\nwith the run of this Appendix; and it is short; but I think it will\nbe sufficient for my purpose:--\n\nThe doctrine of the _Economia_, had, as I have shown, pp. 49-51, a\nlarge signification when applied to the divine ordinances; it also\nhad a definite application to the duties of Christians, whether\nclergy or laity, in preaching, in instructing or catechizing, or in\nordinary intercourse with the world around them.\n\nAs Almighty God did not all at once introduce the Gospel to the\nworld, and thereby gradually prepared men for its profitable\nreception, so, according to the doctrine of the early Church, it was\na duty, for the sake of the heathen among whom they lived, to observe\na great reserve and caution in communicating to them the knowledge of\n\"the whole counsel of God.\" This cautious dispensation of the truth,\nafter the manner of a discreet and vigilant steward, is denoted by\nthe word \"economy.\" It is a mode of acting which comes under the head\nof prudence, one of the four cardinal virtues.\n\nThe principle of the economy is this; that out of various courses, in\nreligious conduct or statement, all and each _allowable antecedently\nand in themselves_, that ought to be taken which is most expedient\nand most suitable at the time for the object in hand.\n\nInstances of its application and exercise in Scripture are such as\nthe following:--1. Divine Providence did but gradually impart to the\nworld in general, and to the Jews in particular, the knowledge of His\nwill:--He is said to have \"winked at the times of ignorance among the\nheathen;\" and He suffered in the Jews divorce \"because of the\nhardness of their hearts.\" 2. He has allowed Himself to be\nrepresented as having eyes, ears, and hands, as having wrath,\njealousy, grief, and repentance. 3. In like manner, our Lord spoke\nharshly to the Syro-Phoenician woman, whose daughter He was about\nto heal, and made as if He would go further, when the two disciples\nhad come to their journey's end. 4. Thus too Joseph \"made himself\nstrange to his brethren,\" and Elisha kept silence on request of\nNaaman to bow in the house of Rimmon. 5. Thus St. Paul circumcised\nTimothy, while he cried out \"Circumcision availeth not.\"\n\nIt may be said that this principle, true in itself, yet is dangerous,\nbecause it admits of an easy abuse, and carries men away into what\nbecomes insincerity and cunning. This is undeniable; to do evil that\ngood may come, to consider that the means, whatever they are, justify\nthe end, to sacrifice truth to expedience, unscrupulousness,\nrecklessness, are grave offences. These are abuses of the economy.\nBut to call them _economical_ is to give a fine name to what occurs\nevery day, independent of any knowledge of the _doctrine_ of the\nEconomy. It is the abuse of a rule which nature suggests to every\none. Every one looks out for the \"mollia tempora fandi,\" and \"mollia\nverba\" too.\n\nHaving thus explained what is meant by the economy as a rule of\nsocial intercourse between men of different religious, or, again,\npolitical, or social views, next I  go on to state what I said in the\nArians.\n\nI say in that volume first, that our Lord has given us the\n_principle_ in His own words--\"Cast not your pearls before swine;\"\nand that He exemplified it in His teaching by parables; that St. Paul\nexpressly distinguishes between the milk which is necessary to one\nset of men, and the strong meat which is allowed to others, and that,\nin two Epistles. I say, that the apostles in the Acts observe the\nsame rule in their speeches, for it is a fact, that they do not\npreach the high doctrines of Christianity, but only \"Jesus and the\nresurrection\" or \"repentance and faith.\" I also say, that this is\nthe very reason that the Fathers assign for the silence of various\nwriters in the first centuries on the subject of our Lord's divinity.\nI also speak of the catechetical system practised in the early\nChurch, and the _disciplina arcani_ as regards the doctrine of the\nHoly Trinity, to which Bingham bears witness; also of the defence of\nthis rule by Basil, Cyril of Jerusalem, Chrysostom, and Theodoret.\n\nAnd next the question may be asked, whether I have said anything in\nmy volume _to guard_ the doctrine, thus laid down, from the abuse to\nwhich it is obviously exposed: and my answer is easy. Of course, had\nI had any idea that I should have been exposed to such hostile\nmisrepresentations, as it has been my lot to undergo on the subject,\nI should have made more direct avowals than I have done of my sense\nof the gravity and the danger of that abuse. Since I could not\nforesee when I wrote, that I should have been wantonly slandered, I\nonly wonder that I have anticipated the charge as fully as will be\nseen in the following extracts.\n\nFor instance, speaking of the Disciplina Arcani, I say:--(1) \"The\nelementary information given to the heathen or catechumen was _in no\nsense undone_ by the subsequent secret teaching, which was in fact\nbut the _filling up of a bare but correct outline_,\" p. 58, and I\ncontrast this with the conduct of the Manichaeans \"who represented the\ninitiatory discipline as founded on a _fiction_ or hypothesis, which\nwas to be forgotten by the learner as he made progress in the _real_\ndoctrine of the Gospel.\" (2) As to allegorising, I say that the\nAlexandrians erred, whenever and as far as they proceeded \"to\n_obscure_ the primary meaning of Scripture, and to _weaken the force\nof historical facts_ and express declarations,\" p. 69. (3) And that\nthey were \"more open to _censure_,\" when, on being \"_urged by\nobjections_ to various passages in the history of the Old Testament,\nas derogatory to the divine perfections or to the Jewish Saints, they\nhad _recourse to an allegorical explanation by way of answer_,\" p.\n71. (4) I add, \"_It is impossible to defend such a procedure_, which\nseems to imply a _want of faith_ in those who had recourse to it;\"\nfor \"God has given us _rules of right and wrong_,\" _ibid_. (5) Again,\nI say--\"The _abuse of the Economy_ in _the hands of unscrupulous\nreasoners_, is obvious. _Even the honest_ controversialist or teacher\nwill find it very difficult to represent, _without misrepresenting_,\nwhat it is yet his duty to present to his hearers with caution or\nreserve. Here the obvious rule to guide our practice is, to be\ncareful ever to maintain  _substantial truth_ in our use of the\neconomical method,\" pp. 79, 80. (6) And so far from concurring at all\nhazards with Justin, Gregory, or Athanasius, I say, \"It _is plain_\n[they] _were justified or not_ in their Economy, _according_ as they\ndid or did not _practically mislead their opponents_,\" p. 80. (7) I\nproceed, \"It is so difficult to hit the mark in these perplexing\ncases, that it is not wonderful, should these or other Fathers have\nfailed at times, and said more or less than was proper,\" _ibid_.\n\nThe principle of the economy is familiarly acted on among us every\nday. When we would persuade others, we do not begin by treading on\ntheir toes. Men would be thought rude who introduced their own\nreligious notions into mixed society, and were devotional in a\ndrawing-room. Have we never thought lawyers tiresome who came down\nfor the assizes and talked law all through dinner? Does the same\nargument tell in the House of Commons, on the hustings, and at Exeter\nHall? Is an educated gentleman never worsted at an election by the\ntone and arguments of some clever fellow, who, whatever his\nshortcomings in other respects, understands the common people?\n\n\nAs to the Catholic religion in England at the present day, this only\nwill I observe--that the truest expedience is to answer right out,\nwhen you are asked; that the wisest economy is to have no management;\nthat the best prudence is not to be a coward; that the most damaging\nfolly is to be found out shuffling; and that the first of virtues is\nto \"tell truth, and shame the devil.\"\n\n8. Lying and Equivocation\n\nThis writer says, \"Though [a lie] be a sin, the fact of its being a\nvenial one seems to have gained for it as yet a very slight\npenance.\"--p. 46. Yet he says also that Dr. Newman takes \"a perverse\npleasure in eccentricities,\" because I say that \"it is better for sun\nand moon to drop from heaven than that one soul should tell one\nwilful untruth.\"--p. 30. That is, he first accuses us without\nfoundation of making light of a lie; and, when he finds that we\ndon't, then he calls us inconsistent. I have noticed these words of\nmine, and two passages besides, which he quotes, above at pp.\n222-224. Here I will but observe on the subject of venial sin\ngenerally, that he altogether forgets our doctrine of purgatory. This\npunishment may last till the day of judgment; so much for duration;\nthen as to intensity, let the image of fire, by which we denote it,\nshow what we think of it. Here is the expiation of venial sins. Yet\nProtestants, after the manner of this writer, are too apt to play\nfast and loose; to blame us because we hold that sin may be venial,\nand to blame us again when we tell them what we think will be its\npunishment. Blot _thirty-seven_.\n\n\nAt the end of his pamphlet he makes a distinction between the\nCatholic clergy and gentry in England, which I know the latter\nconsider to be very impertinent; and he makes it apropos of a passage\nin one of my original letters in January. He quotes me as saying that\n\"Catholics differ from Protestants, as to whether this or that act in\nparticular is conformable to the rule of truth,\" p. 48; and then he\ngoes on to observe, that I have \"calumniated the Catholic gentry,\"\nbecause \"there is no difference whatever, of detail or other, between\ntheir truthfulness and honour, and the truthfulness and honour of the\nProtestant gentry among whom they live.\" But again he has garbled my\nwords; they run thus:\n\n\"Truth is the same in itself and in substance, to Catholic and\nProtestant; so is purity; both virtues are to be referred to that\nmoral sense which is the natural possession of us all. But, when we\ncome to the question in detail, whether this or that act in\nparticular is conformable to the rule of truth, or again to the rule\nof purity, then _sometimes_ there is a difference of opinion _between\nindividuals, sometimes_ between schools, and _sometimes_ between\nreligious communions.\" I knew indeed perfectly well, and I confessed\nthat \"_Protestants_ think that the Catholic system, as such, leads to\na lax observance of the rule of truth;\" but I added, \"I am very sorry\nthat they should think so,\" and I never meant myself to grant that\nall Protestants were on the strict side, and all Catholics on the\nlax. Far from it; there is a stricter party as well as a laxer party\namong Catholics, there is a laxer party as well as a stricter party\namong Protestants. I have already spoken of Protestant writers who in\ncertain cases allow of lying, I have also spoken of Catholic writers\nwho do not allow of equivocation; when I wrote \"a difference of\nopinion between individuals,\" and \"between schools,\" I meant between\nProtestant and Protestant, and particular instances were in my mind.\nI did not say then, or dream of saying, that Catholics, priests and\nlaity, were lax on the point of lying, and that Protestants were\nstrict, any more than I meant to say that all Catholics were pure,\nand all Protestants impure; but I meant to say that, whereas the rule\nof truth is one and the same both to Catholic and Protestant,\nnevertheless some Catholics were lax, some strict, and again some\nProtestants were strict, some lax; and I have already had\nopportunities of recording my own judgment on which side this writer\nis _himself_, and therefore he may keep his forward vindication of\n\"honest gentlemen and noble ladies,\" who, in spite of their priests,\nare still so truthful, till such time as he can find a worse\nassailant of them than I am, and they no better champion of them than\nhimself. And as to the Priests of England, those who know them, as he\ndoes _not_, will pronounce them no whit inferior in this great virtue\nto the gentry, whom he says that he _does_; and I cannot say more.\nBlot _thirty-eight_.\n\n\nLastly, this writer uses the following words, which I have more than\nonce quoted, and with a reference to them I shall end my remarks upon\nhim. \"I am henceforth,\" he says, \"in doubt and fear, as much as _an\nhonest man can be_, concerning every word Dr. Newman may write. How\ncan I tell that I shall not be the dupe of some cunning equivocation,\nof one of the three kinds, laid down as permissible by the blessed\nSt. Alfonso da Liguori and his pupils, even when confirmed with an\noath...?\"\n\nI will tell him why he need not fear; because he has _left out_ one\nvery important condition in the statement of St. Alfonso--and very\napplicable to my own case, even if I followed St. Alfonso's view of\nthe subject. St. Alfonso says \"_ex justa causa_;\" but our \"honest\nman,\" as he styles himself, has _omitted these words_; which are a\nkey to the whole question. Blot _thirty-nine_. Here endeth our\n\"honest man.\" Now for the subject of lying.\n\n\nAlmost all authors, Catholic and Protestant, admit, that _when a just\ncause is present_, there is some kind or other of verbal misleading,\nwhich is not sin. Even silence is in certain cases virtually such a\nmisleading, according to the proverb, \"Silence gives consent.\" Again,\nsilence is absolutely forbidden to a Catholic, as a mortal sin, under\ncertain circumstances, _e.g._ to keep silence, instead of making a\nprofession of faith.\n\nAnother mode of verbal misleading, and the most direct, is actually\nsaying the thing that is not; and it is defended on the principle\nthat such words are not a lie, when there is a \"justa causa,\" as\nkilling is not murder in the case of an executioner.\n\nAnother ground of certain authors for saying that an untruth is not a\nlie where there is a just cause, is, that veracity is a kind of\njustice, and therefore, when we have no duty of justice to tell truth\nto another, it is no sin not to do so. Hence we may say the thing\nthat is not, to children, to madmen, to men who ask impertinent\nquestions, to those whom we hope to benefit by misleading.\n\nAnother ground, taken in defending certain untruths, _ex justa\ncausa_, as if not lies, is that veracity is for the sake of society,\nand, if in no case we might lawfully mislead others, we should\nactually be doing society great harm.\n\nAnother mode of verbal misleading is equivocation or a play upon\nwords; and it is defended on the view that to lie is to use words in\na sense which they will not bear. But an equivocator uses them in a\nreceived sense, though there is another received sense, and\ntherefore, according to this definition, he does not lie.\n\nOthers say that all equivocations are, after all, a kind of lying,\nfaint lies or awkward lies, but still lies; and some of these\ndisputants infer, that therefore we must not equivocate, and others\nthat equivocation is but a half measure, and that it is better to say\nat once that in certain cases untruths are not lies.\n\nOthers will try to distinguish between evasions and equivocations;\nbut they will be answered, that, though there are evasions which are\nclearly not equivocations, yet that it is difficult scientifically to\ndraw the line between them.\n\nTo these must be added the unscientific way of dealing with lies,\nviz. that on a great or cruel occasion a man cannot help telling a\nlie, and he would not be a man, did he not tell it, but still it is\nwrong and he ought not to do it, and he must trust that the sin will\nbe forgiven him, though he goes about to commit it. It is a frailty,\nand had better not be anticipated, and not thought of again, after\nit is once over. This view cannot for a moment be defended, but, I\nsuppose, it is very common.\n\n\nAnd now I think the historical course of thought upon the matter has\nbeen this: the Greek Fathers thought that, when there was a _justa\ncausa_, an untruth need not be a lie. St. Augustine took another\nview, though with great misgiving; and, whether he is rightly\ninterpreted or not, is the doctor of the great and common view that\nall untruths are lies, and that there can be _no_ just cause of\nuntruth. In these later times, this doctrine has been found difficult\nto work, and it has been largely taught that, though all untruths are\nlies, yet that certain equivocations, when there is a just cause, are\nnot untruths.\n\nFurther, there have been and all along through these later ages,\nother schools, running parallel with the above mentioned, one of\nwhich says that equivocations, etc. after all _are_ lies, and another\nwhich says that there are untruths which are not lies.\n\n\nAnd now as to the \"just cause,\" which is the condition, _sine qua\nnon_. The Greek Fathers make them such as these, self-defence,\ncharity, zeal for God's honour, and the like.\n\nSt. Augustine seems to deal with the same \"just causes\" as the Greek\nFathers, even though he does not allow of their availableness as\ndepriving untruths, spoken with such objects, of their sinfulness. He\nmentions defence of life and of honour, and the safe custody of a\nsecret. Also the Anglican writers, who have followed the Greek\nFathers, in defending untruths when there is the \"just cause,\"\nconsider that just cause to be such as the preservation of life and\nproperty, defence of law, the good of others. Moreover, their moral\nrights, _e.g._ defence against the inquisitive, etc.\n\nSt. Alfonso, I consider, would take the same view of the \"justa\ncausa\" as the Anglican divines; he speaks of it as \"quicunque finis\n_honestus_, ad servanda bona spiritui vel corpori utilia;\" which is\nvery much the view which they take of it, judging by the instances\nwhich they give.\n\nIn all cases, however, and as contemplated by all authors, Clement of\nAlexandria, or Milton, or St. Alfonso, such a causa is, in fact,\nextreme, rare, great, or at least special. Thus the writer in the\nMelanges Theologiques (Liege, 1852-3, p. 453) quotes Lessius:\n\"Si absque justa causa fiat, est abusio orationis contra virtutem\nveritatis, et civilem consuetudinem, etsi proprie non sit mendacium.\"\nThat is, the virtue of truth, and the civil custom, are the _measure_\nof the just cause. And so Voit, \"If a man has used a reservation\n(restrictione non pure mentali) without a _grave_ cause, he has\nsinned gravely.\" And so the author himself, from whom I quote,\nand who defends the Patristic and Anglican doctrine that there\nare untruths which are not lies, says, \"Under the name of mental\nreservation theologians authorise many lies, _when there is for them\na grave reason_ and proportionate,\" _i.e._ to their character--p.\n459. And so St. Alfonso, in another treatise, quotes St. Thomas to\nthe effect, that, if from one cause two immediate effects follow,\nand, if the good effect of that cause is _equal in value_ to the bad\neffect (bonus _aequivalet_ malo), then nothing hinders that the good\nmay be intended and the evil permitted. From which it will follow\nthat, since the evil to society from lying is very great, the just\ncause which is to make it allowable, must be very great also. And\nso Kenrick: \"It is confessed by all Catholics that, in the common\nintercourse of life, all ambiguity of language is to be avoided; but\nit is debated whether such ambiguity is ever lawful. Most theologians\nanswer in the affirmative, supposing a _grave cause_ urges, and the\n[true] mind of the speaker can be collected from the adjuncts, though\nin fact it be not collected.\"\n\nHowever, there are cases, I have already said, of another kind, in\nwhich Anglican authors would think a lie allowable; such as when a\nquestion is _impertinent_. Accordingly, I think the best word for\nembracing all the cases which would come under the \"justa causa,\" is,\nnot \"extreme,\" but \"special,\" and I say the same as regards St.\nAlfonso; and therefore, above in pp. 242 and 244, whether I speak of\nSt. Alfonso or Paley, I should have used the word \"special,\" or\n\"extraordinary,\" not \"extreme.\"\n\nWhat I have been saying shows what different schools of opinion there\nare in the Church in the treatment of this difficult doctrine; and,\nby consequence, that a given individual, such as I am, _cannot_ agree\nwith all, and has a full right to follow which he will. The freedom\nof the schools, indeed, is one of those rights of reason, which the\nChurch is too wise really to interfere with. And this applies not to\nmoral questions only, but to dogmatic also.\n\n\nIt is supposed by Protestants that, because St. Alfonso's writings\nhave had such high commendation bestowed upon them by authority,\ntherefore they have been invested with a quasi-infallibility. This\nhas arisen in good measure from Protestants not knowing the force\nof theological terms. The words to which they refer are the\nauthoritative decision that \"nothing in his works has been found\n_worthy of censure_,\" \"censura dignum;\" but this does not lead to the\nconclusions which have been drawn from it. Those words occur in a\nlegal document, and cannot be interpreted except in a legal sense. In\nthe first place, the sentence is negative; nothing in St. Alfonso's\nwritings is positively approved; and secondly it is not said that\nthere are no faults in what he has written, but nothing which comes\nunder the ecclesiastical _censura_, which is something very definite.\nTo take and interpret them, in the way commonly adopted in England,\nis the same mistake, as if one were to take the word \"apologia\" in\nthe English sense of apology, or \"infant\" in law to mean a little\nchild.\n\n1. Now first as to the meaning of the form of words viewed as a\nproposition. When they were brought before the fitting authorities at\nRome by the Archbishop of Besancon, the answer returned to him\ncontained the condition that those words were to be interpreted,\n\"with due regard to the mind of the Holy See concerning the\napprobation of writings of the servants of God, ad effectum\nCanonisationis.\" This is intended to prevent any Catholic taking the\nwords about St. Alfonso's works in too large a sense. Before a saint\nis canonised, his works are examined and a judgment pronounced upon\nthem. Pope Benedict XIV. says, \"The _end_ or _scope_ of this judgment\nis, that it may appear, whether the doctrine of the servant of God,\nwhich he has brought out in his writings, is free from any soever\n_theological censure_.\" And he remarks in addition, \"It never can be\nsaid that the doctrine of a servant of God is _approved_ by the Holy\nSee, but at most it can [only] be said that it is not disapproved\n(non reprobatam) in case that the revisers had reported that there is\nnothing found by them in his works, which is adverse to the decrees\nof Urban VIII., and that the judgment of the Revisers has been\napproved by the sacred Congregation, and confirmed by the Supreme\nPontiff.\" The Decree of Urban VIII. here referred to is, \"Let works\nbe examined, whether they contain errors against faith or good morals\n(bonos mores), or any new doctrine, or a doctrine foreign and alien\nto the common sense and custom of the Church.\" The author from whom I\nquote this (M. Vandenbroeck, of the diocese of Malines) observes, \"It\nis therefore clear, that the approbation of the works of the Holy\nBishop touches not the truth of every proposition, adds nothing to\nthem, nor even gives them by consequence a degree of intrinsic\nprobability.\" He adds that it gives St. Alfonso's theology an\nextrinsic probability, from the fact that, in the judgment of the\nHoly See, no proposition deserves to receive a censure; but that\n\"that probability will cease nevertheless in a particular case, for\nany one who should be convinced, whether by evident arguments, or by\na decree of the Holy See, or otherwise, that the doctrine of the\nSaint deviates from the truth.\" He adds, \"From the fact that the\napprobation of the works of St. Alfonso does not decide the truth of\neach proposition, it follows, as Benedict XIV. has remarked, that we\nmay combat the doctrine which they contain; only, since a canonised\nsaint is in question, who is honoured by a solemn _culte_ in the\nChurch, we ought not to speak except with respect, nor to attack his\nopinions except with temper and modesty.\"\n\n2. Then, as to the meaning of the word _censura_: Benedict XIV.\nenumerates a number of \"Notes\" which come under that name; he says,\n\"Out of propositions which are to be noted with theological censure,\nsome are heretical, some erroneous, some close upon error, some\nsavouring of heresy,\" and so on; and each of these terms has its own\ndefinite meaning. Thus by \"erroneous\" is meant, according to Viva, a\nproposition which is not _immediately_ opposed to a revealed\nproposition, but only to a theological _conclusion_ drawn from\npremisses which are _de fide_; \"savouring of heresy,\" when a\nproposition is opposed to a theological conclusion not evidently\ndrawn from premisses which are _de fide_, but most probably and\naccording to the common mode of theologising, and so with the rest.\nTherefore when it was said by the revisers of St. Alfonso's works\nthat they were not \"worthy of _censure_,\" it was only meant that they\ndid not fall under these particular Notes.\n\nBut the answer from Rome to the Archbishop of Besancon went further\nthan this; it actually took pains to declare that any one who pleased\nmight follow other theologians instead of St. Alfonso. After saying\nthat no priest was to be interfered with who followed St. Alfonso in\nthe Confessional, it added, \"This is said, however, without on that\naccount judging that they are reprehended who follow opinions handed\ndown by other approved authors.\"\n\nAnd this too, I will observe, that St. Alfonso made many changes of\nopinion himself in the course of his writings; and it could not\nfor an instant be supposed that we were bound to every one of his\nopinions, when he did not feel himself bound to them in his own\nperson. And, what is more to the purpose still, there are opinions,\nor some opinion, of his which actually has been proscribed by the\nChurch since, and cannot now be put forward or used. I do not pretend\nto be a well-read theologian myself, but I say this on the authority\nof a theological professor of Breda, quoted in the Melanges Theol.\nfor 1850-1. He says: \"It may happen, that, in the course of time,\nerrors may be found in the works of St. Alfonso and be proscribed by\nthe Church, _a thing which in fact has already occurred_.\"\n\nIn not ranging myself then with those who consider that it is\njustifiable to use words in a double sense, that is, to equivocate, I\nput myself, first, under the protection of Cardinal Gerdil, who, in a\nwork lately published at Rome, has the following passage, which I owe\nto the kindness of a friend:\n\nGerdil\n\n\"In an oath one ought to have respect to the intention of the party\nswearing, and the intention of the party to whom the oath is taken.\nWhoso swears binds himself in virtue of the words, not according to\nthe sense he retains in his own mind, but _in the sense according to\nwhich he perceives that they are understood by him to whom the oath\nis made_. When the mind of the one is discordant with the mind of the\nother, if this happens by deceit or cheat of the party swearing, he\nis bound to observe the oath according to the right sense (sana\nmente) of the party receiving it; but, when the discrepancy in\nthe sense comes of misunderstanding, without deceit of the party\nswearing, in that case he is not bound, except to that to which he\nhad in mind to wish to be bound. It follows hence, that _whoso uses\nmental reservation or equivocation in the oath_, in order to deceive\nthe party to whom he offers it, _sins most grievously_, and is always\nbound to observe the oath _in the sense in which he knew that his\nwords were_ taken by the other party, according to the decision of\nSt. Augustine, 'They are perjured, who, having kept the words, have\ndeceived the expectations of those to whom the oath was taken.' He\nwho swears externally, without the inward intention of swearing,\ncommits a most grave sin, and remains all the same under the\nobligation to fulfil it.... In a word, all that is contrary to good\nfaith, is iniquitous, and by introducing the name of God the iniquity\nis aggravated by the guilt of sacrilege.\"\n\nNatalis Alexander\n\n\"They certainly lie, who utter the words of an oath, and without the\nwill to swear or bind themselves; or who _make use of mental\nreservations and equivocations_ in swearing, since they signify by\nwords what they have not in mind, contrary to the end for which\nlanguage was instituted, viz. as signs of ideas. Or they mean\nsomething else than the words signify in themselves, and the\ncommon custom of speech, and the circumstances of persons and\nbusiness-matters; and thus they abuse words which were instituted for\nthe cherishing of society.\"\n\nContenson\n\n\"Hence is apparent how worthy of condemnation is the temerity of\nthose half-taught men, who give a colour to lies and _equivocations_\nby the words and instances of Christ. Than whose doctrine, which is\nan art of deceiving, nothing can be more pestilent. And that, both\nbecause what you do not wish done to yourself, you should not do to\nanother; now the patrons of equivocations and mental reservations\nwould not like to be themselves deceived by others, etc.... and also\nbecause St. Augustine, etc.... In truth, as there is no pleasant\nliving with those whose language we do not understand, and, as St.\nAugustine teaches, a man would more readily live with his dog than\nwith a foreigner, less pleasant certainly is our converse with those\nwho make use of frauds artificially covered, overreach their hearers\nby deceits, address them insidiously, observe the right moment, and\ncatch at words to their purpose, by which truth is hidden under a\ncovering; and so on the other hand nothing is sweeter than the\nsociety of those, who both love and speak the naked truth, ...\nwithout their mouth professing one thing and their mind hiding\nanother, or spreading before it the cover of double words. Nor does\nit matter that they colour their lies with the name of _equivocations\nor mental reservations_. For Hilary says, 'The sense, not the speech,\nmakes the crime.'\"\n\nConcina allows of what I shall presently call _evasions_, but nothing\nbeyond, if I understand him; but he is most vehement against mental\nreservation of every kind, so I quote him.\n\nConcina\n\n\"That mode of speech, which some theologians call pure mental\nreservation, others call reservation not simply mental; that language\nwhich to me is lying, to the greater part of recent authors is only\namphibological.... I have discovered that nothing is adduced by more\nrecent theologians for the lawful use of _amphibologies_ which has\nnot been made use of already by the ancients, whether philosophers or\nsome Fathers, in defence of lies. Nor does there seem to me other\ndifference when I consider their respective grounds, except that the\nancients frankly called those modes of speech lies, and the more\nrecent writers, not a few of them, call them amphibological,\nequivocal, and _material_.\"\n\nIn another place he quotes Caramuel, so I suppose I may do so too,\nfor the very reason that his theological reputation does not place\nhim on the side of strictness. Concina says, \"Caramuel himself, who\nbore away the palm from all others in relaxing the evangelical and\nnatural law, says:\n\nCaramuel\n\n\"I have an innate aversion to mental reservations. If they are\ncontained within the bounds of piety and sincerity, then they are not\nnecessary; ... but if [otherwise] they are the destruction of human\nsociety and sincerity, and are to be condemned as pestilent. Once\nadmitted, they open the way to all lying, all perjury. And the whole\ndifference in the matter is, that what yesterday was called a lie,\nchanging, not its nature and malice, but its name, is today entitled\n'mental reservation;' and this is to sweeten poison with sugar, and\nto colour guilt with the appearance of virtue.\"\n\nSt. Thomas\n\n\"When the sense of the party swearing, and of the party to whom he\nswears, is not the same, if this proceeds from the deceit of the\nformer, the oath ought to be kept according to the right sense of the\nparty to whom it is made. But if the party swearing does not make use\nof deceit, then he is bound according to his own sense.\"\n\nSt. Isidore\n\n\"With whatever artifice of words a man swears, nevertheless God who\nis the witness of his conscience, so takes the oath as he understands\nit, to whom it is sworn. And he becomes twice guilty, who both takes\nthe name of God in vain, and deceives his neighbour.\"\n\nSt. Augustine\n\n\"I do not question that this is most justly laid down, that the\npromise of an oath must be fulfilled, not according to the words of\nthe party taking it, but according to the expectation of the party to\nwhom it is taken, of which he who takes it is aware.\"\n\nAnd now, under the protection of these authorities, I say as\nfollows:--\n\nCasuistry is a noble science, but it is one to which I am led,\nneither by my abilities nor my turn of mind. Independently, then, of\nthe difficulties of the subject, and the necessity, before forming\nan opinion, of knowing more of the arguments of theologians upon it\nthan I do, I am very unwilling to say a word here on the subject of\nlying and equivocation. But I consider myself bound to speak; and\ntherefore, in this strait, I can do nothing better, even for my own\nrelief, than submit myself and what I shall say to the judgment of\nthe Church, and to the consent, so far as in this matter there be a\nconsent, of the Schola Theologorum.\n\nNow, in the case of one of those special and rare exigencies or\nemergencies, which constitute the _justa causa_ of dissembling or\nmisleading, whether it be extreme as the defence of life, or a duty\nas the custody of a secret, or of a personal nature as to repel an\nimpertinent inquirer, or a matter too trivial to provoke question, as\nin dealing with children or madmen, there seem to be four courses:\n\n1. _To say the thing that is not_. Here I draw the reader's attention\nto the words _material_ and _formal_. \"Thou shalt not kill;\" _murder_\nis the _formal_ transgression of this commandment, but _accidental\nhomicide_ is the _material_ transgression. The _matter_ of the act is\nthe same in both cases; but in the _homicide_, there is nothing more\nthan the act, whereas in _murder_ there must be the intention, etc.\nwhich constitutes the formal sin. So, again, an executioner commits\nthe material act, but not that formal killing which is a breach of\nthe commandment. So a man, who, simply to save himself from starving,\ntakes a loaf which is not his own, commits only the material, not the\nformal act of stealing, that is, he does not commit a sin. And so a\nbaptised Christian, external to the Church, who is in invincible\nignorance, is a material heretic, and not a formal. And in like\nmanner, if to say the thing which is not be in special cases lawful,\nit may be called a _material lie_.\n\nThe first mode then which has been suggested of meeting those special\ncases, in which to mislead by words has a sufficient object, or has a\n_just cause_, is by a material lie.\n\nThe second mode is by an _aequivocatio_, which is not equivalent to\nthe English word \"equivocation,\" but means sometimes a _play upon\nwords_, sometimes an _evasion_.\n\n2. _A play upon words_. St. Alfonso certainly says that a play upon\nwords is allowable; and, speaking under correction, I should say that\nhe does so on the ground that lying is _not_ a sin against justice,\nthat is, against our neighbour, but a sin against God; because words\nare the signs of ideas, and therefore if a word denotes two ideas, we\nare at liberty to use it in either of its senses: but I think I must\nbe incorrect here in some respect, because the Catechism of the\nCouncil, as I have quoted it at p. 248, says, \"Vanitate et mendacio\nfides ac veritas tolluntur, arctissima vincula _societatis humanae_;\nquibus sublatis, sequitur summa vitae _confusio_, ut _homines nihil a\ndaemonibus differre videantur_.\"\n\n3. _Evasion_;--when, for instance, the speaker diverts the attention\nof the hearer to another subject; suggests an irrelevant fact or\nmakes a remark, which confuses him and gives him something to think\nabout; throws dust into his eyes; states some truth, from which he is\nquite sure his hearer will draw an illogical and untrue conclusion,\nand the like. Bishop Butler seems distinctly to sanction such a\nproceeding, in a passage which I shall extract below.\n\nThe greatest school of evasion, I speak seriously, is the House of\nCommons; and necessarily so, from the nature of the case. And the\nhustings is another.\n\nAn instance is supplied in the history of St. Athanasius: he was in a\nboat on the Nile, flying persecution; and he found himself pursued.\nOn this he ordered his men to turn his boat round, and ran right to\nmeet the satellites of Julian. They asked him, Have you seen\nAthanasius? and he told his followers to answer, \"Yes, he is close to\nyou.\" _They_ went on their course, and _he_ ran into Alexandria, and\nthere lay hid till the end of the persecution.\n\nI gave another instance above, in reference to a doctrine of\nreligion. The early Christians did their best to conceal their Creed\non account of the misconceptions of the heathen about it. Were the\nquestion asked of them, \"Do you worship a Trinity?\" and did they\nanswer, \"We worship one God, and none else;\" the inquirer might, or\nwould, infer that they did not acknowledge the Trinity of Divine\nPersons.\n\nIt is very difficult to draw the line between these evasions, and\nwhat are commonly called in English _equivocations_; and of this\ndifficulty, again, I think, the scenes in the House of Commons supply\nus with illustrations.\n\n4. The fourth method is _silence_. For instance, not giving the\n_whole_ truth in a court of law. If St. Alban, after dressing himself\nin the priest's clothes, and being taken before the persecutor, had\nbeen able to pass off for his friend, and so gone to martyrdom\nwithout being discovered; and had he in the course of examination\nanswered all questions truly, but not given the whole truth, the most\nimportant truth, that he was the wrong person, he would have come\nvery near to telling a lie, for a half-truth is often a falsehood.\nAnd his defence must have been the _justa causa_, viz. either that he\nmight in charity or for religion's sake save a priest, or again that\nthe judge had no right to interrogate him on the subject.\n\nNow, of these four modes of misleading others by the tongue, when\nthere is a _justa causa_ (supposing there can be such)--a material\nlie, that is an untruth which is not a lie, an equivocation, an\nevasion, and silence,--First, I have no difficulty whatever in\nrecognizing as allowable the method of _silence_.\n\nSecondly, But, if I allow of _silence_, why not of the method of\n_material lying_, since half of a truth _is_ often a lie? And, again,\nif all killing be not murder, nor all taking from another stealing,\nwhy must all untruths be lies? Now I will say freely that I think it\ndifficult to answer this question, whether it be urged by St. Clement\nor by Milton; at the same time, I never have acted, and I think, when\nit came to the point, I never should act upon such a theory myself,\nexcept in one case, stated below. This I say for the benefit of those\nwho speak hardly of Catholic theologians, on the ground that they\nadmit text-books which allow of equivocation. They are asked, how can\nwe trust you, when such are your views? but such views, as I already\nhave said, need not have anything to do with their own practice,\nmerely from the circumstance that they are contained in their\ntext-books. A theologian draws out a system; he does it partly as a\nscientific speculation: but much more for the sake of others. He is\nlax for the sake of others, not of himself. His own standard of\naction is much higher than that which he imposes upon men in general.\nOne special reason why religious men, after drawing out a theory, are\nunwilling to act upon it themselves, is this: that they practically\nacknowledge a broad distinction between their reason and their\nconscience; and that they feel the latter to be the safer guide,\nthough the former may be the clearer, nay even though it be the\ntruer. They would rather be wrong with their conscience, than right\nwith their reason. And again here is this more tangible difficulty in\nthe case of exceptions to the rule of veracity, that so very little\nexternal help is given us in drawing the line, as to when untruths\nare allowable and when not; whereas that sort of killing which is not\nmurder, is most definitely marked off by legal enactments, so that it\ncannot possibly be mistaken for such killing as _is_ murder. On the\nother hand the cases of exemption from the rule of Veracity are left\nto the private judgment of the individual, and he may easily be led\non from acts which are allowable to acts which are not. Now this\nremark does _not_ apply to such acts as are related in Scripture, as\nbeing done by a particular inspiration, for in such cases there _is_\na command. If I had my own way, I would oblige society, that is, its\ngreat men, its lawyers, its divines, its literature, publicly to\nacknowledge, as such, those instances of untruth which are not lies,\nas for instance, untruths in war; and then there could be no danger\nin them to the individual Catholic, for he would be acting under a\nrule.\n\nThirdly, as to playing upon words, or equivocation, I suppose it is\nfrom the English habit, but, without meaning any disrespect to a\ngreat Saint, or wishing to set myself up, or taking my conscience for\nmore than it is worth, I can only say as a fact, that I admit it as\nlittle as the rest of my countrymen: and, without any reference to\nthe right and the wrong of the matter, of this I am sure, that, if\nthere is one thing more than another which prejudices Englishmen\nagainst the Catholic Church, it is the doctrine of great authorities\non the subject of equivocation. For myself, I can fancy myself\nthinking it was allowable in extreme cases for me to lie, but never\nto equivocate. Luther said, \"Pecca fortiter.\" I anathematise the\nformal sentiment, but there is a truth in it, when spoken of material\nacts.\n\nFourthly, I think _evasion_, as I have described it, to be perfectly\nallowable; indeed, I do not know, who does not use it, under\ncircumstances; but that a good deal of moral danger is attached to\nits use; and that, the cleverer a man is, the more likely he is to\npass the line of Christian duty.\n\n\nBut it may be said, that such decisions do not meet the particular\ndifficulties for which provision is required; let us then take some\ninstances.\n\n1. I do not think it right to tell lies to children, even on this\naccount, that they are sharper than we think them, and will soon find\nout what we are doing; and our example will be a very bad training\nfor them. And so of equivocation: it is easy of imitation, and we\nourselves shall be sure to get the worst of it in the end.\n\n2. If an early Father defends the patriarch Jacob in his mode of\ngaining his father's blessing, on the ground that the blessing was\ndivinely pledged to him already, that it was his, and that his father\nand brother were acting at once against his own rights and the divine\nwill, it does not follow from this that such conduct is a pattern to\nus, who have no supernatural means of determining _when_ an untruth\nbecomes a _material_ and not a _formal_ lie. It seems to me very\ndangerous, be it allowable or not, to lie or equivocate in order to\npreserve some great temporal or spiritual benefit, nor does St.\nAlfonso here say anything to the contrary, for he is not discussing\nthe question of danger or expedience.\n\n3. As to Johnson's case of a murderer asking you which way a man had\ngone, I should have anticipated that, had such a difficulty happened\nto him, his first act would have been to knock the man down, and to\ncall out for the police; and next, if he was worsted in the conflict,\nhe would not have given the ruffian the information he asked, at\nwhatever risk to himself. I think he would have let himself be killed\nfirst. I do not think that he would have told a lie.\n\n4. A secret is a more difficult case. Supposing something has been\nconfided to me in the strictest secrecy, which could not be revealed\nwithout great disadvantage to another, what am I to do? If I am a\nlawyer, I am protected by my profession. I have a right to treat with\nextreme indignation any question which trenches on the inviolability\nof my position; but, supposing I was driven up into a corner, I think\nI should have a right to say an untruth, or that, under such\ncircumstances, a lie would be _material_, but it is almost an\nimpossible case, for the law would defend me. In like manner, as a\npriest, I should think it lawful to speak as if I knew nothing of\nwhat passed in confession. And I think in these cases, I do in fact\npossess that guarantee, that I am not going by private judgment,\nwhich just now I demanded; for society would bear me out, whether as\na lawyer or as a priest, that I had a duty to my client or penitent,\nsuch, that an untruth in the matter was not a lie. A common type of\nthis permissible denial, be it _material lie_ or _evasion_, is at the\nmoment supplied to me: an artist asked a Prime Minister, who was\nsitting to him, \"What news, my Lord, from France?\" He answered,\n\"_I do not know_; I have not read the Papers.\"\n\n5. A more difficult question is, when to accept confidence has not\nbeen a duty. Supposing a man wishes to keep the secret that he is\nthe author of a book, and he is plainly asked on the subject. Here\nI should ask the previous question, whether any one has a right\nto publish what he dare not avow. It requires to have traced the\nbearings and results of such a principle, before being sure of it;\nbut certainly, for myself, I am no friend of strictly anonymous\nwriting. Next, supposing another has confided to you the secret of\nhis authorship: there are persons who would have no scruple at all in\ngiving a denial to impertinent questions asked them on the subject. I\nhave heard a great man in his day at Oxford, warmly contend, as if he\ncould not enter into any other view of the matter, that, if he had\nbeen trusted by a friend with the secret of his being author of a\ncertain book, and he were asked by a third person, if his friend was\nnot (as he really was) the author of it, he ought without any scruple\nand distinctly to answer that he did not know. He had an existing\nduty towards the author; he had none towards his inquirer. The author\nhad a claim on him; an impertinent questioner had none at all. But\nhere again I desiderate some leave, recognised by society, as in the\ncase of the formulas \"Not at home,\" and \"Not guilty,\" in order to\ngive me the right of saying what is a _material_ untruth. And\nmoreover, I should here also ask the previous question, Have I any\nright to accept such a confidence? have I any right to make such a\npromise? and, if it be an unlawful promise, is it binding at the\nexpense of a lie? I am not attempting to solve these difficult\nquestions, but they have to be carefully examined.\n\n\nAs I put into print some weeks ago various extracts from authors\nrelating to the subject which I have been considering, I conclude by\ninserting them here, though they will not have a very methodical\nappearance.\n\nFor instance, St. Dorotheus: \"Sometimes the _necessity_ of some\nmatter urges (incumbit), which, unless you somewhat conceal and\ndissemble it, will turn into a greater trouble.\" And he goes on to\nmention the case of saving a man who has committed homicide from his\npursuers: and he adds that it is not a thing that can be done often,\nbut once in a long time.\n\nSt. Clement in like manner speaks of it only as a necessity, and as a\nnecessary medicine.\n\nOrigen, after saying that God's commandment makes it a plain duty to\nspeak the truth, adds, that a man, \"when necessity urges,\" may avail\nhimself of a lie, as medicine, that is, to the extent of Judith's\nconduct towards Holofernes; and he adds that that necessity may be\nthe obtaining of a great good, as Jacob hindered his father from\ngiving the blessing to Esau against the will of God.\n\nCassian says, that the use of a lie, in order to be allowable, must\nbe like the use of hellebore, which is itself poison, unless a man\nhas a fatal disease on him. He adds, \"Without the condition of an\nextreme necessity, it is a present ruin.\"\n\nSt. John Chrysostom defends Jacob on the ground that his deceiving\nhis father was not done for the sake of temporal gain, but in order\nto fulfil the providential purpose of God; and he says, that, as\nAbraham was not a murderer, though he was minded to kill his son, so\nan untruth need not be a lie. And he adds, that often such a deceit\nis the greatest possible benefit to the man who is deceived, and\ntherefore allowable. Also St. Hilary, St. John Climacus, etc., in\nThomassin, Concina, the _Melanges_, etc.\n\nVarious modern Catholic divines hold this doctrine of the \"material\nlie\" also. I will quote three passages in point.\n\nCataneo: \"Be it then well understood, that the obligation to\nveracity, that is, of conforming our words to the sentiments of our\nmind, is founded principally upon the necessity of human intercourse,\nfor which reason they (_i.e._ words) ought not and cannot be lawfully\nopposed to this end, so just, so necessary, and so important, without\nwhich, the world would become a Babylon of confusion. And this would\nin a great measure be really the result, as often as a man should be\nunable to defend secrets of high importance, and other evils would\nfollow, even worse than confusion, in their nature destructive of\nthis very intercourse between man and man for which speech was\ninstituted. Every body must see the advantage a hired assassin would\nhave, if supposing he did not know by sight the person he was\ncommissioned to kill, I being asked by the rascal at the moment he\nwas standing in doubt with his gun cocked, were obliged to approve of\nhis deed by keeping silence, or to hesitate, or lastly to answer\n'Yes, that is the man.' [Then follow other similar cases.] In such\nand similar cases, in which your sincerity is unjustly assailed, when\nno other way more prompt or more efficacious presents itself, and\nwhen it is not enough to say, 'I do not know,' let such persons be\nmet openly with a downright resolute 'No' without thinking upon\nanything else. For such a 'No' is conformable to the universal\nopinion of men, who are the judges of words, and who certainly have\nnot placed upon them obligations to the injury of the Human Republic,\nnor ever entered into a compact to use them in behalf of rascals,\nspies, incendiaries, and thieves. I repeat that such a 'No' is\nconformable to the universal mind of man, and with this mind your own\nmind ought to be in union and alliance. Who does not see the manifest\nadvantage which highway robbers would derive, were travellers when\nasked if they had gold, jewels, etc., obliged either to invent\ntergiversations or to answer 'Yes, we have?' Accordingly in such\ncircumstances that 'No' which you utter [see Card. Pallav. lib. iii.\nc. xi. n. 23, de Fide, Spe, etc.] remains deprived of its proper\nmeaning, and is like a piece of coin, from which by the command of\nthe government the current value has been withdrawn, so that by using\nit you become in no sense guilty of lying.\"\n\nBolgeni says, \"We have therefore proved satisfactorily, and with more\nthan moral certainty, that an _exception_ occurs to the general law\nof not speaking untruly, viz. when it is impossible to observe a\ncertain other precept, more important, _without_ telling a lie. Some\npersons indeed say, that in the cases of impossibility which are\nabove drawn out, what is said is _not_ a lie. But a man who thus\nspeaks confuses ideas and denies the essential characters of things.\nWhat is a lie? It is 'locutio contra mentem;' this is its common\ndefinition. But in the cases of impossibility, a man speaks _contra\nmentem_; that is clear and evident. Therefore he tells a lie. Let us\ndistinguish between the lie and the sin. In the above cases, the man\nreally tells a lie, but this lie is not a sin, by reason of the\nexisting impossibility. To say that in those cases no one has a right\nto ask, that the words have a meaning according to the common consent\nof men, and the like, as is said by certain authors in order in those\ncases to exempt the lie from sin, this is to commit oneself to\nfrivolous excuses, and to subject oneself to a number of retorts,\nwhen there is the plain reason of the above-mentioned fact of\nimpossibility.\"\n\nAnd the Author in the _Melanges Theologiques_: \"We have then gained\nthis truth, and it is a conclusion of which we have not the smallest\ndoubt, that if the intention of deceiving our neighbour is essential\nto a lie, it is allowable in certain cases to say what we know to be\nfalse, as, _e.g._ to escape from a great danger....\n\n\"But, let no one be alarmed, it is never allowable to lie; in this we\nare in perfect agreement with the whole body of theologians. The only\npoint in which we differ from them is in what we mean by a lie. They\ncall that a lie which is not such in our view, or rather, if you\nwill, what in our view is only a material lie they account to be both\nformal and material.\"\n\nNow to come to Anglican authorities.\n\nTaylor: \"Whether it can in any case be lawful to tell a lie? To this\nI answer, that the holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testament\ndo indefinitely and severely forbid lying. Prov. xiii. 5; xxx. 8.\nPs. v. 6. John viii. 44. Col. iii. 9. Rev. xxi. 8, 27. Beyond these\nthings, nothing can be said in condemnation of lying.\n\n\"_But then_ lying is to be understood to be _something said or\nwritten to the hurt of our neighbour_, which cannot be understood\notherwise than to differ from the mind of him that speaks. 'A lie is\npetulantly or from a desire of hurting, to say one thing, or to\nsignify it by gesture, and to think another thing;'[6] so Melancthon,\n'To lie is to deceive our neighbour to his hurt.' For _in this sense_\na lie is naturally or _intrinsically_ evil; that is, to speak a lie\n_to our neighbour_ is naturally evil ... _not_ because it is\ndifferent from an eternal truth.... A lie is an _injury_ to our\nneighbour.... There is in mankind a universal _contract_ implied in\nall their intercourses.... _In justice_ we are bound to speak, so as\nthat our neighbour do not lose his _right_, which by our speaking we\ngive him to the truth, that is, in our heart. And of a lie, _thus\ndefined_, which is _injurious_ to our neighbour, so long as his\n_right_ to truth remains, it is that St. Austin affirms it to be\nsimply unlawful, and that it can in no case be permitted, nisi forte\nregulas quasdam daturus es.... If a lie be _unjust_, it can never\nbecome lawful; but, _if it can be separate from injustice_, then it\nmay be _innocent_. Here then I consider\n\n\"This right, though it be regularly and commonly belonging to all\nmen, yet it may be _taken away_ by a superior right intervening; or\nit may be lost, or it may be hindered, or it may cease, upon a\ngreater reason.\n\n\"Therefore upon this account it was lawful for the children of Israel\nto borrow jewels of the Egyptians, _which supposes a promise of\nrestitution, though they intended not to pay them back again_. God\ngave commandment so to spoil them, and the Egyptians were divested of\ntheir _rights_, and _were to be used like enemies_.\n\n\"_It is lawful to tell a lie to children or to madmen_; because they,\nhaving no powers of judging, have no _right_ to truth; but then, _the\nlie must be charitable and useful_.... _If a lie be told_, it must be\nsuch as is _for their good_ ... and so do physicians to their\npatients.... This and the like were so usual, so permitted to\nphysicians, that it grew to a proverb, 'You lie like a doctor;'[7]\nwhich yet was always to be understood in the way of charity, and with\nhonour to the profession.... To tell a lie for charity, to save a\nman's life, the life of a friend, of a husband, of a prince, of a\nuseful and a public person, hath not only been done at all times, but\ncommended by great and wise and good men.... Who would not save his\nfather's life ... at the charge of a _harmless lie_, from the rage of\npersecutors or tyrants? ...When the telling of a truth will certainly\nbe the cause of evil to a man, though he have right to truth, yet it\nmust not be given to him to his harm.... _Every_ truth is no more\n_justice_, than every restitution of a straw to the right owner is a\nduty. 'Be not over-righteous,' says Solomon.... If it be objected,\nthat we must not tell a lie for God, therefore much less for our\nbrother, I answer, that it does not follow; for God needs not a lie,\n_but our brother does_.... _Deceiving_ the enemy by the stratagem of\nactions or _words_, is _not properly lying_; for this supposes a\nconversation, of law or peace, trust or _promise_ explicit or\nimplicit. A lie is a deceiving of a _trust or confidence_.\"--Taylor,\nvol. xiii. pp. 351-371, ed. Heber.\n\nIt is clear that Taylor thought that veracity was one branch of\njustice; a social virtue; under the second table of the law, not\nunder the first; only binding, when those to whom we speak have a\nclaim of justice upon us, which ordinarily all men have. Accordingly,\nin cases where a neighbour has no claim of justice upon us, there is\nno opportunity of exercising veracity, as, for instance, when he is\nmad, or is deceived by us for his own advantage. And hence, in such\ncases, a lie is _not really_ a lie, as he says in one place,\n\"Deceiving the enemy is _not properly_ lying.\" Here he seems to make\nthat distinction common to Catholics; viz. between what they call a\n_material_ act and a _formal_ act. Thus Taylor would maintain, that\nto say the thing that is not to a madman, has the _matter_ of a lie,\nbut the man who says it as little tells a formal lie, as the judge,\nsheriff, or executioner murders the man whom he certainly kills by\nforms of law.\n\nOther English authors take precisely the same view, viz. that\nveracity is a kind of justice--that our neighbour generally has a\n_right_ to have the truth told him; but that he may forfeit that\nright, or lose it for the time, and then to say the thing that is not\nto him is no sin against veracity, that is, no lie. Thus Milton says,\n\"Veracity is a virtue, by which we speak true things to him _to whom\nit_ is equitable, and concerning what things it is suitable for the\n_good of our neighbour_.... All dissimulation is not wrong, for it is\nnot necessary for us always openly to bring out the truth; that only\nis blamed which is _malicious_.... I do not see why that cannot be\nsaid of lying which can be said of homicide and other matters, which\nare not weighed so much by the _deed_ as by _the object and end of\nacting_. _What man in his senses will deny_ that there are those whom\nwe have the best of grounds for considering that we ought to\ndeceive--as boys, madmen, the sick, the intoxicated, enemies, men in\nerror, thieves? ...Is it a point of conscience not to deceive them?\n... I would ask, by which of the commandments is a lie forbidden? You\nwill say, by the ninth. Come, read it out, and you will agree with\nme. For whatever is here forbidden comes under the head of injuring\none's neighbour. If then any lie does _not_ injure one's neighbour,\ncertainly it is not forbidden by this commandment. It is on this\nground that, by the judgment of theologians, we shall acquit so many\nholy men of lying. Abraham, who said to his servants that he would\nreturn with his son; ... the wise man understood that it did not\nmatter to his servants to know [that his son would not return], and\nthat it was at the moment expedient for himself that they should not\nknow.... Joseph would be a man of many lies if the common definition\nof lying held; [also] Moses, Rahab, Ehud, Jael, Jonathan.\" Here again\nveracity is due only on the score of _justice_ towards the person\nwhom we speak with; and, if he has _no claim_ upon us to speak the\ntruth, we _need_ not speak the truth to him.\n\nAnd so, again, Paley: \"_A lie is a breach of promise_; for whoever\nseriously addresses his discourse to another tacitly promises to\nspeak the truth, because he knows that the truth is expected. Or the\n_obligation_ of veracity may be made out from the direct ill\nconsequences of lying to social happiness.... There are _falsehoods_\nwhich are not _lies_; _that is, which are not criminal_.\" (Here, let\nit be observed, is the same distinction as in Taylor between\n_material_ and _formal_ untruths.) \"1. When no one is deceived.... 2.\nWhen the person to whom you speak has no _right_ to know the truth,\nor, more properly, when little or no inconveniency results from the\nwant of confidence in such cases, as _where you tell a falsehood to a\nmadman_ for his own advantage; to a robber, to conceal your property;\nto an assassin, to defeat or divert him from his purpose.... It is\nupon this principle that, by the laws of war, it is allowable\nto deceive an enemy by feints, false colours, spies, false\nintelligence.... Many people indulge, in serious discourse, a habit\nof fiction or exaggeration.... So long as ... their narratives,\nthough false, are _inoffensive_, it may seem a superstitious regard\nto truth to censure them _merely for truth's sake_.\" Then he goes on\nto mention reasons _against_ such a practice, adding, \"I have seldom\nknown any one who deserted truth in trifles that could be trusted in\nmatters of importance.\"--Works, vol. iv. p. 123.\n\nDr. Johnson, who, if any one, has the reputation of being a sturdy\nmoralist, thus speaks:\n\n\"We talked,\" says Boswell, \"of the casuistical question--whether it\nwas allowable at any time to depart from _truth_.\" Johnson. \"The\ngeneral rule is, that truth should never be violated; because it is\nof the utmost importance to the comfort of life, that we should have\na full security by mutual faith; and occasional inconveniences should\nbe willingly suffered, that we may preserve it. There must, however,\nbe some exceptions. If, for instance, a murderer should ask you which\nway a man is gone, you may tell him what is not true, because you\nare under a previous obligation not to betray a man to a murderer.\"\nBoswell. \"Supposing the person who wrote Junius were asked whether he\nwas the author, might he deny it?\" Johnson. \"I don't know what to say\nto this. If you were _sure_ that he wrote Junius, would you, if he\ndenied it, think as well of him afterwards? Yet it may be urged, that\nwhat a man has no right to ask, you may refuse to communicate; and\nthere is no other effectual mode of preserving a secret, and an\nimportant secret, the discovery of which may be very hurtful to you,\nbut a flat denial; for if you are silent, or hesitate, or evade,\nit will be held equivalent to a confession. But stay, sir; here is\nanother case. Supposing the author had told me confidentially that he\nhad written Junius, and I were asked if he had, I should hold myself\nat liberty to deny it, as being under a previous promise, express or\nimplied, to conceal it. Now what I ought to do for the author, may I\nnot do for myself? But I deny the lawfulness of telling a lie to a\nsick man for fear of alarming him. You have no business with\nconsequences; you are to tell the truth. Besides, you are not sure\nwhat effect your telling him that he is in danger may have; it may\nbring his distemper to a crisis, and that may cure him. Of all lying\nI have the greatest abhorrence of this, because I believe it has been\nfrequently practised on myself.\"--Boswell's Life, vol. iv. p. 277.\n\n\nThere are English authors who allow of mental reservation and\nequivocation; such is Jeremy Taylor.\n\nHe says, \"In the same cases in which it is lawful to tell a lie, in\nthe same cases it is lawful to use a mental reservation.\"--Ibid. p.\n374.\n\nHe says, too, \"When the things are true in _several senses_, the not\nexplicating in _what sense_ I mean the words is not a criminal\nreservation.... But 1, this liberty is not to be used by inferiors,\nbut by superiors only; 2, not by those that are interrogated, but by\nthem which speak voluntarily; 3, not by those which speak of duty,\nbut which speak of grace and kindness.\"--Ibid. p. 378.\n\nBishop Butler, the first of Anglican authorities, writing in his\ngrave and abstract way, seems to assert a similar doctrine in the\nfollowing passage:\n\n\"Though veracity, as well as justice, is to be our rule of life, it\nmust be added, otherwise a snare will be laid in the way of some\nplain men, that the use of common forms of speech generally\nunderstood, cannot be falsehood; and, in general, that there can be\nno designed falsehood without designing to deceive. It must likewise\nbe observed, that, _in numberless cases, a man may be under the\nstrictest obligations to what he foresees will deceive, without his\nintending it_. For _it is impossible not to foresee_, that the words\nand actions of men in different ranks and employments, and of\ndifferent educations, _will perpetually be mistaken by each other_;\nand it cannot but be so, whilst they will judge with the utmost\ncarelessness, as they daily do, _of what they are not perhaps enough\ninformed to be competent judges of_, even though they considered it\nwith great attention.\"--_Nature of Virtue_, fin. These last words\nseem in a measure to answer to the words in Scavini, that an\nequivocation is permissible, because \"then we do not deceive our\nneighbour, but allow him to deceive himself.\" In thus speaking, I\nhave not the slightest intention of saying anything disrespectful to\nBishop Butler; and still less of course to St. Alfonso.\n\nAnd a third author, for whom I have a great respect, as different\nfrom the above two as they are from each other, bears testimony to\nthe same effect in his \"Comment on Scripture,\" Thomas Scott. He\nmaintains indeed that Ehud and Jael were divinely directed in what\nthey did; but they could have no divine direction for what was in\nitself wrong.\n\nThus on Judges iii. 15-21:\n\n\"'And Ehud said, I have a secret errand unto thee, O king; I have\na message from God unto thee, and Ehud thrust the dagger into his\nbelly.' Ehud, indeed,\" says Scott, \"had a secret errand, a message\nfrom God unto him; _but it was of a far different nature than\nEglon expected_.\"\n\nAnd again on Judges iv. 18-21:\n\n\"'And Jael said, Turn in, my lord, fear not. And he said to her,\nWhen any man doth inquire, Is there any man here? thou shalt say,\nNo. Then Jael took a nail, and smote the nail into his temple.'\nJael,\" says Scott, \"is not said to have promised Sisera that\nshe would deny his being there; she would give him shelter and\nrefreshment, but not utter a falsehood to oblige him.\"\n\nFootnotes\n\n[6] \"Mendacium est petulanter, aut cupiditate nocendi, aliud loqui,\nseu gestu significare, et aliud sentire.\"\n\n[7] Mentiris ut medicus.\n\n\n\n\nPOSTSCRIPTUM\n\nJune 4, 1864\n\n\nWhile I was engaged with these concluding pages, I received another\nof those special encouragements, which from several quarters have\nbeen bestowed upon me, since my controversy began. It was the\nextraordinary honour done me of an address from the clergy of this\nlarge diocese, who had been assembled for the Synod.\n\nIt was followed two days afterwards by a most gracious testimonial\nfrom my Bishop, Dr. Ullathorne, in the shape of a letter which he\nwrote to me, and also inserted in the Birmingham papers. With his\nleave I transfer it to my own volume, as a very precious document,\ncompleting and recompensing, in a way most grateful to my feelings,\nthe anxious work which has occupied me so fully for nearly ten\nweeks.\n\n\"Bishop's House, June 2, 1864.\n\n\"My dear Dr. Newman,--It was with warm gratification that, after the\nclose of the Synod yesterday, I listened to the Address presented to\nyou by the clergy of the diocese, and to your impressive reply. But\nI should have been little satisfied with the part of the silent\nlistener, except on the understanding with myself that I also might\nafterwards express to you my own sentiments in my own way.\n\n\"We have now been personally acquainted, and much more than\nacquainted, for nineteen years, during more than sixteen of which we\nhave stood in special relation of duty towards each other. This has\nbeen one of the singular blessings which God has given me amongst the\ncares of the Episcopal office. What my feelings of respect, of\nconfidence, and of affection have been towards you, you know well,\nnor should I think of expressing them in words. But there is one\nthing that has struck me in this day of explanations, which you could\nnot, and would not, be disposed to do, and which no one could do so\nproperly or so authentically as I could, and which it seems to me is\nnot altogether uncalled for, if every kind of erroneous impression\nthat some persons have entertained with no better evidence than\nconjecture is to be removed.\n\n\"It is difficult to comprehend how, in the face of facts, the notion\nshould ever have arisen that, during your Catholic life, you have\nbeen more occupied with your own thoughts than with the service of\nreligion and the work of the Church. If we take no other work into\nconsideration beyond the written productions which your Catholic pen\nhas given to the world, they are enough for the life's labour of\nanother. There are the Lectures on Anglican Difficulties, the\nLectures on Catholicism in England, the great work on the Scope\nand End of University Education, that on the Office and Work of\nUniversities, the Lectures and Essays on University Subjects, and the\ntwo Volumes of Sermons; not to speak of your contributions to the\nAtlantis, which you founded, and to other periodicals; then there are\nthose beautiful offerings to Catholic literature, the Lectures on the\nTurks, Loss and Gain, and Callista, and though last, not least, the\nApologia, which is destined to put many idle rumours to rest, and\nmany unprofitable surmises; and yet all these productions represent\nbut a portion of your labour, and that in the second half of your\nperiod of public life.\n\n\"These works have been written in the midst of labour and cares of\nanother kind, and of which the world knows very little. I will\nspecify four of these undertakings, each of a distinct character, and\nany one of which would have made a reputation for untiring energy in\nthe practical order.\n\n\"The first of these undertakings was the establishment of the\ncongregation of the Oratory of St. Philip Neri--that great ornament\nand accession to the force of English Catholicity. Both the London\nand the Birmingham Oratory must look to you as their founder and as\nthe originator of their characteristic excellences; whilst that of\nBirmingham has never known any other presidency.\n\n\"No sooner was this work fairly on foot than you were called by the\nhighest authority to commence another, and one of yet greater\nmagnitude and difficulty, the founding of a University in Ireland.\nAfter the Universities had been lost to the Catholics of these\nkingdoms for three centuries, everything had to be begun from the\nbeginning: the idea of such an institution to be inculcated, the plan\nto be formed that would work, the resources to be gathered, and the\nstaff of superiors and professors to be brought together. Your name\nwas then the chief point of attraction which brought these elements\ntogether. You alone know what difficulties you had to conciliate and\nwhat to surmount, before the work reached that state of consistency\nand promise, which enabled you to return to those responsibilities in\nEngland which you had never laid aside or suspended. And here, excuse\nme if I give expression to a fancy which passed through my mind.\n\n\"I was lately reading a poem, not long published, from the MSS.\nDe Rerum Natura, by Neckham, the foster-brother of Richard the\nLion-hearted. He quotes an old prophecy, attributed to Merlin, and\nwith a sort of wonder, as if recollecting that England owed so much\nof its literary learning to that country; and the prophecy says that\nafter long years Oxford will pass into Ireland--'Vada boum suo\ntempore transibunt in Hiberniam.' When I read this, I could not\nbut indulge the pleasant fancy that in the days when the Dublin\nUniversity shall arise in material splendour, an allusion to this\nprophecy might form a poetic element in the inscription on the\npedestal of the statue which commemorates its first Rector.\n\n\"The original plan of an oratory did not contemplate any parochial\nwork, but you could not contemplate so many souls in want of pastors\nwithout being prompt and ready at the beck of authority to strain all\nyour efforts in coming to their help. And this brings me to the third\nand the most continuous of those labours to which I have alluded. The\nmission in Alcester Street, its church and schools, were the first\nwork of the Birmingham Oratory. After several years of close and hard\nwork, and a considerable call upon the private resources of the\nFathers who had established this congregation, it was delivered over\nto other hands, and the Fathers removed to the district of Edgbaston,\nwhere up to that time nothing Catholic had appeared. Then arose under\nyour direction the large convent of the Oratory, the church expanded\nby degrees into its present capaciousness, a numerous congregation\nhas gathered and grown in it; poor schools and other pious\ninstitutions have grown up in connection with it, and, moreover,\nequally at your expense and that of your brethren, and, as I have\nreason to know, at much inconvenience, the Oratory has relieved the\nother clergy of Birmingham all this while by constantly doing the\nduty in the poor-house and gaol of Birmingham.\n\n\"More recently still, the mission and the poor school at Smethwick\nowe their existence to the Oratory. And all this while the founder\nand father of these religious works has added to his other\nsolicitudes the toil of frequent preaching, of attendance in the\nconfessional, and other parochial duties.\n\n\"I have read on this day of its publication the seventh part of the\nApologia, and the touching allusion in it to the devotedness of the\nCatholic clergy to the poor in seasons of pestilence reminds me that\nwhen the cholera raged so dreadfully at Bilston, and the two priests\nof the town were no longer equal to the number of cases to which they\nwere hurried day and night, I asked you to lend me two fathers to\nsupply the place of other priests whom I wished to send as a further\naid. But you and Father St. John preferred to take the place of\ndanger which I had destined for others, and remained at Bilston till\nthe worst was over.\n\n\"The fourth work which I would notice is one more widely known. I\nrefer to the school for the education of the higher classes, which at\nthe solicitation of many friends you have founded and attached to the\nOratory. Surely after reading this bare enumeration of work done, no\nman will venture to say that Dr. Newman is leading a comparatively\ninactive life in the service of the Church.\n\n\"To spare, my dear Dr. Newman, any further pressure on those feelings\nwith which I have already taken so large a liberty, I will only add\none word more for my own satisfaction. During our long intercourse\nthere is only one subject on which, after the first experience, I\nhave measured my words with some caution, and that has been where\nquestions bearing on ecclesiastical duty have arisen. I found some\nlittle caution necessary, because you were always so prompt and ready\nto go even beyond the slightest intimation of my wish or desires.\n\n\"That God may bless you with health, life, and all the spiritual\ngood which you desire, you and your brethren of the Oratory, is\nthe earnest prayer now and often of, my dear Dr. Newman, your\naffectionate friend and faithful servant in Christ,\n\n\"+ W. B. ULLATHORNE.\"","title":"Apologia pro vita sua","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":137846}