{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_22088/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_22088","id":"gutenberg_22088","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22088","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":"APOLOGIA PRO VITA SUA\n\nBEING\n\nA History of his Religious Opinions.\n\nBY\n\nJOHN HENRY CARDINAL NEWMAN.\n\n    \"Commit thy way to the Lord and trust in Him, and He will do it.\n    And He will bring forth thy justice as the light, and thy\n    judgment as the noon-day.\"\n\nLONDON\n\nLONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.\n\nAND NEW YORK: 15 EAST 16th STREET\n\n1890.\n\nPRINTED BY\n\nKELLY AND CO., GATE STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS,\n\nAND KINGSTON-ON-THAMES.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nThe following History of my Religious Opinions, now that it is detached\nfrom the context in which it originally stood, requires some preliminary\nexplanation; and that, not only in order to introduce it generally to\nthe reader, but specially to make him understand, how I came to write a\nwhole book about myself, and about my most private thoughts and\nfeelings. Did I consult indeed my own impulses, I should do my best\nsimply to wipe out of my Volume, and consign to oblivion, every trace of\nthe circumstances to which it is to be ascribed; but its original title\nof \"Apologia\" is too exactly borne out by its matter and structure, and\nthese again are too suggestive of correlative circumstances, and those\ncircumstances are of too grave a character, to allow of my indulging so\nnatural a wish. And therefore, though in this new Edition I have managed\nto omit nearly a hundred pages of my original Volume, which I could\nsafely consider to be of merely ephemeral importance, I am even for that\nvery reason obliged, by way of making up for their absence, to prefix to\nmy Narrative some account of the provocation out of which it arose.\n\nIt is now more than twenty years that a vague impression to my\ndisadvantage has rested on the popular mind, as if my conduct towards\nthe Anglican Church, while I was a member of it, was inconsistent with\nChristian simplicity and uprightness. An impression of this kind was\nalmost unavoidable under the circumstances of the case, when a man, who\nhad written strongly against a cause, and had collected a party round\nhim by virtue of such writings, gradually faltered in his opposition to\nit, unsaid his words, threw his own friends into perplexity and their\nproceedings into confusion, and ended by passing over to the side of\nthose whom he had so vigorously denounced. Sensitive then as I have ever\nbeen of the imputations which have been so freely cast upon me, I have\nnever felt much impatience under them, as considering them to be a\nportion of the penalty which I naturally and justly incurred by my\nchange of religion, even though they were to continue as long as I\nlived. I left their removal to a future day, when personal feelings\nwould have died out, and documents would see the light, which were as\nyet buried in closets or scattered through the country.\n\nThis was my state of mind, as it had been for many years, when, in the\nbeginning of 1864, I unexpectedly found myself publicly put upon my\ndefence, and furnished with an opportunity of pleading my cause before\nthe world, and, as it so happened, with a fair prospect of an impartial\nhearing. Taken indeed by surprise, as I was, I had much reason to be\nanxious how I should be able to acquit myself in so serious a matter;\nhowever, I had long had a tacit understanding with myself, that, in the\nimprobable event of a challenge being formally made to me, by a person\nof name, it would be my duty to meet it. That opportunity had now\noccurred; it never might occur again; not to avail myself of it at once\nwould be virtually to give up my cause; accordingly, I took advantage of\nit, and, as it has turned out, the circumstance that no time was allowed\nme for any studied statements has compensated, in the equitable judgment\nof the public, for such imperfections in composition as my want of\nleisure involved.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt was in the number for January 1864, of a magazine of wide\ncirculation, and in an Article upon Queen Elizabeth, that a popular\nwriter took occasion formally to accuse me by name of thinking so\nlightly of the virtue of Veracity, as in set terms to have countenanced\nand defended that neglect of it which he at the same time imputed to the\nCatholic Priesthood. His words were these:--\n\n    \"Truth, for its own sake, had never been a virtue with the Roman\n    clergy. Father Newman informs us that it need not, and on the\n    whole ought not to be; that cunning is the weapon which heaven\n    has given to the Saints wherewith to withstand the brute male\n    force of the wicked world which marries and is given in\n    marriage. Whether his notion be doctrinally correct or not, it\n    is at least historically so.\"\n\nThese assertions, going far beyond the popular prejudice entertained\nagainst me, had no foundation whatever in fact. I never had said, I\nnever had dreamed of saying, that truth for its own sake need not, and\non the whole ought not to be, a virtue with the Roman Clergy; or that\ncunning is the weapon which heaven has given to the Saints wherewith to\nwithstand the wicked world. To what work of mine then could the writer\nbe referring? In a correspondence which ensued upon the subject between\nhim and myself, he rested his charge against me on a Sermon of mine,\npreached, before I was a Catholic, in the pulpit of my Church at Oxford;\nand he gave me to understand, that, after having done as much as this,\nhe was not bound, over and above such a general reference to my Sermon,\nto specify the passages of it, in which the doctrine, which he imputed\nto me, was contained. On my part I considered this not enough; and I\ndemanded of him to bring out his proof of his accusation in form and in\ndetail, or to confess he was unable to do so. But he persevered in his\nrefusal to cite any distinct passages from any writing of mine; and,\nthough he consented to withdraw his charge, he would not do so on the\nissue of its truth or falsehood, but simply on the ground that I assured\nhim that I had had no intention of incurring it. This did not satisfy my\nsense of justice. Formally to charge me with committing a fault is one\nthing; to allow that I did not intend to commit it, is another; it is no\nsatisfaction to me, if a man accuses me of _this_ offence, for him to\nprofess that he does not accuse me _of that_; but he thought\ndifferently. Not being able then to gain redress in the quarter, where I\nhad a right to ask it, I appealed to the public. I published the\ncorrespondence in the shape of a Pamphlet, with some remarks of my own\nat the end, on the course which that correspondence had taken.\n\nThis Pamphlet, which appeared in the first weeks of February, received a\nreply from my accuser towards the end of March, in another Pamphlet of\n48 pages, entitled, \"What then does Dr. Newman mean?\" in which he\nprofessed to do that which I had called upon him to do; that is, he\nbrought together a number of extracts from various works of mine,\nCatholic and Anglican, with the object of showing that, if I was to be\nacquitted of the crime of teaching and practising deceit and dishonesty,\naccording to his first supposition, it was at the price of my being\nconsidered no longer responsible for my actions; for, as he expressed\nit, \"I had a human reason once, no doubt, but I had gambled it away,\"\nand I had \"worked my mind into that morbid state, in which nonsense was\nthe only food for which it hungered;\" and that it could not be called \"a\nhasty or farfetched or unfounded mistake, when he concluded that I did\nnot care for truth for its own sake, or teach my disciples to regard it\nas a virtue;\" and, though \"too many prefer the charge of insincerity to\nthat of insipience, Dr. Newman seemed not to be of that number.\"\n\nHe ended his Pamphlet by returning to his original imputation against\nme, which he had professed to abandon. Alluding by anticipation to my\nprobable answer to what he was then publishing, he professed his\nheartfelt embarrassment how he was to believe any thing I might say in\nmy exculpation, in the plain and literal sense of the words. \"I am\nhenceforth,\" he said, \"in doubt and fear, as much as an honest man can\nbe, concerning every word Dr. Newman may write. How can I tell, that I\nshall not be the dupe of some cunning equivocation, of one of the three\nkinds laid down as permissible by the blessed St. Alfonso da Liguori and\nhis pupils, even when confirmed with an oath, because 'then we do not\ndeceive our neighbour, but allow him to deceive himself?' ... How can I\ntell, that I may not in this Pamphlet have made an accusation, of the\ntruth of which Dr. Newman is perfectly conscious; but that, as I, a\nheretic Protestant, have no business to make it, he has a full right to\ndeny it?\"\n\nEven if I could have found it consistent with my duty to my own\nreputation to leave such an elaborate impeachment of my moral nature\nunanswered, my duty to my Brethren in the Catholic Priesthood, would\nhave forbidden such a course. _They_ were involved in the charges which\nthis writer, all along, from the original passage in the Magazine, to\nthe very last paragraph of the Pamphlet, had so confidently, so\npertinaciously made. In exculpating myself, it was plain I should be\npursuing no mere personal quarrel;--I was offering my humble service to\na sacred cause. I was making my protest in behalf of a large body of men\nof high character, of honest and religious minds, and of sensitive\nhonour,--who had their place and their rights in this world, though they\nwere ministers of the world unseen, and who were insulted by my Accuser,\nas the above extracts from him sufficiently show, not only in my person,\nbut directly and pointedly in their own. Accordingly, I at once set\nabout writing the _Apologia pro vit\u00e2 su\u00e2_, of which the present Volume\nis a New Edition; and it was a great reward to me to find, as the\ncontroversy proceeded, such large numbers of my clerical brethren\nsupporting me by their sympathy in the course which I was pursuing, and,\nas occasion offered, bestowing on me the formal and public expression of\ntheir approbation. These testimonials in my behalf, so important and so\ngrateful to me, are, together with the Letter, sent to me with the same\npurpose, from my Bishop, contained in the last pages of this Volume.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThis Edition differs from the first form of the Apologia as\nfollows:--The original work consisted of seven Parts, which were\npublished in series on consecutive Thursdays, between April 21 and June\n2. An Appendix, in answer to specific allegations urged against me in\nthe Pamphlet of Accusation, appeared on June 16. Of these Parts 1 and 2,\nas being for the most part directly controversial, are omitted in this\nEdition, excepting certain passages in them, which are subjoined to this\nPreface, as being necessary for the due explanation of the subsequent\nfive Parts. These, (being 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, of the Apologia,) are here\nnumbered as Chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 respectively. Of the Appendix, about\nhalf has been omitted, for the same reason as has led to the omission of\nParts 1 and 2. The rest of it is thrown into the shape of Notes of a\ndiscursive character, with two new ones on Liberalism and the Lives of\nthe English Saints of 1843-4, and another, new in part, on\nEcclesiastical Miracles. In the body of the work, the only addition of\nconsequence is the letter which is found at p. 228, a copy of which has\nrecently come into my possession.\n\nI should add that, since writing the Apologia last year, I have seen for\nthe first time Mr. Oakeley's \"Notes on the Tractarian Movement.\" This\nwork remarkably corroborates the substance of my Narrative, while the\nkind terms in which he speaks of me personally, call for my sincere\ngratitude.\n\n_May 2, 1865._\n\n\n\n\nI make these extracts from the first edition of my Apologia, Part 1, pp.\n3, 20-25, and Part 2, pp. 29-31 and pp. 41-51, in order to set before\nthe reader the drift I had in writing my Volume:--\n\n    I cannot be sorry to have forced my Accuser to bring out in\n    fulness his charges against me. It is far better that he should\n    discharge his thoughts upon me in my lifetime, than after I am\n    dead. Under the circumstances I am happy in having the\n    opportunity of reading the worst that can be said of me by a\n    writer who has taken pains with his work and is well satisfied\n    with it. I account it a gain to be surveyed from without by one\n    who hates the principles which are nearest to my heart, has no\n    personal knowledge of me to set right his misconceptions of my\n    doctrine, and who has some motive or other to be as severe with\n    me as he can possibly be....\n\n    But I really feel sad for what I am obliged now to say. I am in\n    warfare with him, but I wish him no ill;--it is very difficult\n    to get up resentment towards persons whom one has never seen. It\n    is easy enough to be irritated with friends or foes _vis-\u00e0-vis_;\n    but, though I am writing with all my heart against what he has\n    said of me, I am not conscious of personal unkindness towards\n    himself. I think it necessary to write as I am writing, for my\n    own sake, and for the sake of the Catholic Priesthood; but I\n    wish to impute nothing worse to him than that he has been\n    furiously carried away by his feelings. Yet what shall I say of\n    the upshot of all his talk of my economies and equivocations and\n    the like? What is the precise _work_ which it is directed to\n    effect? I am at war with him; but there is such a thing as\n    legitimate warfare: war has its laws; there are things which may\n    fairly be done, and things which may not be done. I say it with\n    shame and with stern sorrow;--he has attempted a great\n    transgression; he has attempted (as I may call it) to _poison\n    the wells_. I will quote him and explain what I mean.... He\n    says,--\n\n    \"I am henceforth in doubt and fear, as much as any honest man\n    can be, _concerning every word_ Dr. Newman may write. _How can I\n    tell that I shall not be the dupe of some cunning equivocation_,\n    of one of the three kinds laid down as permissible by the\n    blessed Alfonso da Liguori and his pupils, even when confirmed\n    by an oath, because 'then we do not deceive our neighbour, but\n    allow him to deceive himself?' ... It is admissible, therefore,\n    to use words and sentences which have a double signification,\n    and leave the hapless hearer to take which of them he may\n    choose. _What proof have I, then, that by 'mean it? I never said\n    it!' Dr. Newman does not signify_, I did not say it, but I did\n    mean it?\"--Pp. 44, 45.\n\n    Now these insinuations and questions shall be answered in their\n    proper places; here I will but say that I scorn and detest\n    lying, and quibbling, and double-tongued practice, and slyness,\n    and cunning, and smoothness, and cant, and pretence, quite as\n    much as any Protestants hate them; and I pray to be kept from\n    the snare of them. But all this is just now by the bye; my\n    present subject is my Accuser; what I insist upon here is this\n    unmanly attempt of his, in his concluding pages, to cut the\n    ground from under my feet;--to poison by anticipation the public\n    mind against me, John Henry Newman, and to infuse into the\n    imaginations of my readers, suspicion and mistrust of everything\n    that I may say in reply to him. This I call _poisoning the\n    wells_.\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\n    write. _How can I tell that I shall not be the dupe of some\n    cunning equivocation?_\" ...\n\n    Well, I can only say, that, if his taunt is to take effect, I am\n    but wasting my time in saying a word in answer to his calumnies;\n    and this is precisely what he knows and intends to be its fruit.\n    I can hardly get myself to protest against a method of\n    controversy so base and cruel, lest in doing so, I should be\n    violating my self-respect and self-possession; but most base and\n    most cruel it is. We all know how our imagination runs away with\n    us, how suddenly and at what a pace;--the saying, \"C\u00e6sar's wife\n    should not be suspected,\" is an instance of what I mean. The\n    habitual prejudice, the humour of the moment, is the\n    turning-point which leads us to read a defence in a good sense\n    or a bad. We interpret it by our antecedent impressions.\n\n    The very same sentiments, according as our jealousy is or is not\n    awake, or our aversion stimulated, are tokens of truth or of\n    dissimulation and pretence. There is a story of a sane person\n    being by mistake shut up in the wards of a Lunatic Asylum, and\n    that, when he pleaded his cause to some strangers visiting the\n    establishment, the only remark he elicited in answer was, \"How\n    naturally he talks! you would think he was in his senses.\"\n    Controversies should be decided by the reason; is it legitimate\n    warfare to appeal to the misgivings of the public mind and to\n    its dislikings? Any how, if my accuser is able thus to practise\n    upon my readers, the more I succeed, the less will be my\n    success. If I am natural, he will tell them \"Ars est celare\n    artem;\" if I am convincing, he will suggest that I am an able\n    logician; if I show warmth, I am acting the indignant innocent;\n    if I am calm, I am thereby detected as a smooth hypocrite; if I\n    clear up difficulties, I am too plausible and perfect to be\n    true. The more triumphant are my statements, the more certain\n    will be my defeat.\n\n    So will it be if my Accuser succeeds in his man[oe]uvre; but I\n    do not for an instant believe that he will. Whatever judgment my\n    readers may eventually form of me from these pages, I am\n    confident that they will believe me in what I shall say in the\n    course of them. I have no misgiving at all, that they will be\n    ungenerous or harsh towards a man who has been so long before\n    the eyes of the world; who has so many to speak of him from\n    personal knowledge; whose natural impulse it has ever been to\n    speak out; who has ever spoken too much rather than too little;\n    who would have saved himself many a scrape, if he had been wise\n    enough to hold his tongue; who has ever been fair to the\n    doctrines and arguments of his opponents; who has never slurred\n    over facts and reasonings which told against himself; who has\n    never given his name or authority to proofs which he thought\n    unsound, or to testimony which he did not think at least\n    plausible; who has never shrunk from confessing a fault when he\n    felt that he had committed one; who has ever consulted for\n    others more than for himself; who has given up much that he\n    loved and prized and could have retained, but that he loved\n    honesty better than name, and Truth better than dear friends....\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n    What then shall be the special imputation, against which I shall\n    throw myself in these pages, out of the thousand and one which\n    my Accuser directs upon me? I mean to confine myself to one, for\n    there is only one about which I much care,--the charge of\n    Untruthfulness. He may cast upon me as many other imputations as\n    he pleases, and they may stick on me, as long as they can, in\n    the course of nature. They will fall to the ground in their\n    season.\n\n    And indeed I think the same of the charge of Untruthfulness, and\n    select it from the rest, not because it is more formidable but\n    because it is more serious. Like the rest, it may disfigure me\n    for a time, but it will not stain: Archbishop Whately used to\n    say, \"Throw dirt enough, and some will stick;\" well, will stick,\n    but not, will stain. I think he used to mean \"stain,\" and I do\n    not agree with him. Some dirt sticks longer than other dirt; but\n    no dirt is immortal. According to the old saying, Pr\u00e6valebit\n    Veritas. There are virtues indeed, which the world is not fitted\n    to judge of or to uphold, such as faith, hope, and charity: but\n    it can judge about Truthfulness; it can judge about the natural\n    virtues, and Truthfulness is one of them. Natural virtues may\n    also become supernatural; Truthfulness is such; but that does\n    not withdraw it from the jurisdiction of mankind at large. It\n    may be more difficult in this or that particular case for men to\n    take cognizance of it, as it may be difficult for the Court of\n    Queen's Bench at Westminster to try a case fairly which took\n    place in Hindostan: but that is a question of capacity, not of\n    right. Mankind has the right to judge of Truthfulness in a\n    Catholic, as in the case of a Protestant, of an Italian, or of a\n    Chinese. I have never doubted, that in my hour, in God's hour,\n    my avenger will appear, and the world will acquit me of\n    untruthfulness, even though it be not while I live.\n\n    Still more confident am I of such eventual acquittal, seeing\n    that my judges are my own countrymen. I consider, indeed,\n    Englishmen the most suspicious and touchy of mankind; I think\n    them unreasonable, and unjust in their seasons of excitement;\n    but I had rather be an Englishman, (as in fact I am,) than\n    belong to any other race under heaven. They are as generous, as\n    they are hasty and burly; and their repentance for their\n    injustice is greater than their sin.\n\n    For twenty years and more I have borne an imputation, of which I\n    am at least as sensitive, who am the object of it, as they can\n    be, who are only the judges. I have not set myself to remove it,\n    first, because I never have had an opening to speak, and, next,\n    because I never saw in them the disposition to hear. I have\n    wished to appeal from Philip drunk to Philip sober. When shall I\n    pronounce him to be himself again? If I may judge from the tone\n    of the public press, which represents the public voice, I have\n    great reason to take heart at this time. I have been treated by\n    contemporary critics in this controversy with great fairness and\n    gentleness, and I am grateful to them for it. However, the\n    decision of the time and mode of my defence has been taken out\n    of my hands; and I am thankful that it has been so. I am bound\n    now as a duty to myself, to the Catholic cause, to the Catholic\n    Priesthood, to give account of myself without any delay, when I\n    am so rudely and circumstantially charged with Untruthfulness. I\n    accept the challenge; I shall do my best to meet it, and I shall\n    be content when I have done so.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n    It is not my present accuser alone who entertains, and has\n    entertained, so dishonourable an opinion of me and of my\n    writings. It is the impression of large classes of men; the\n    impression twenty years ago and the impression now. There has\n    been a general feeling that I was for years where I had no right\n    to be; that I was a \"Romanist\" in Protestant livery and service;\n    that I was doing the work of a hostile Church in the bosom of\n    the English Establishment, and knew it, or ought to have known\n    it. There was no need of arguing about particular passages in my\n    writings, when the fact was so patent, as men thought it to be.\n\n    First it was certain, and I could not myself deny it, that I\n    scouted the name \"Protestant.\" It was certain again, that many\n    of the doctrines which I professed were popularly and generally\n    known as badges of the Roman Church, as distinguished from the\n    faith of the Reformation. Next, how could I have come by them?\n    Evidently, I had certain friends and advisers who did not\n    appear; there was some underground communication between\n    Stonyhurst or Oscott and my rooms at Oriel. Beyond a doubt, I\n    was advocating certain doctrines, not by accident, but on an\n    understanding with ecclesiastics of the old religion. Then men\n    went further, and said that I had actually been received into\n    that religion, and withal had leave given me to profess myself a\n    Protestant still. Others went even further, and gave it out to\n    the world, as a matter of fact, of which they themselves had the\n    proof in their hands, that I was actually a Jesuit. And when the\n    opinions which I advocated spread, and younger men went further\n    than I, the feeling against me waxed stronger and took a wider\n    range.\n\n    And now indignation arose at the knavery of a conspiracy such as\n    this:--and it became of course all the greater in consequence of\n    its being the received belief of the public at large, that craft\n    and intrigue, such as they fancied they beheld with their eyes,\n    were the very instruments to which the Catholic Church has in\n    these last centuries been indebted for her maintenance and\n    extension.\n\n    There was another circumstance still, which increased the\n    irritation and aversion felt by the large classes, of whom I\n    have been speaking, against the preachers of doctrines, so new\n    to them and so unpalatable; and that was, that they developed\n    them in so measured a way. If they were inspired by Roman\n    theologians, (and this was taken for granted,) why did they not\n    speak out at once? Why did they keep the world in such suspense\n    and anxiety as to what was coming next, and what was to be the\n    upshot of the whole? Why this reticence, and half-speaking, and\n    apparent indecision? It was plain that the plan of operations\n    had been carefully mapped out from the first, and that these men\n    were cautiously advancing towards its accomplishment, as far as\n    was safe at the moment; that their aim and their hope was to\n    carry off a large body with them of the young and the ignorant;\n    that they meant gradually to leaven the minds of the rising\n    generation, and to open the gates of that city, of which they\n    were the sworn defenders, to the enemy who lay in ambush outside\n    of it. And when in spite of the many protestations of the party\n    to the contrary, there was at length an actual movement among\n    their disciples, and one went over to Rome, and then another,\n    the worst anticipations and the worst judgments which had been\n    formed of them received their justification. And, lastly, when\n    men first had said of me, \"You will see, _he_ will go, he is\n    only biding his time, he is waiting the word of command from\n    Rome,\" and, when after all, after my arguments and denunciations\n    of former years, at length I did leave the Anglican Church for\n    the Roman, then they said to each other, \"It is just as we said:\n    we knew it would be so.\"\n\n    This was the state of mind of masses of men twenty years ago,\n    who took no more than an external and common sense view of what\n    was going on. And partly the tradition, partly the effect of\n    that feeling, remains to the present time. Certainly I consider\n    that, in my own case, it is the great obstacle in the way of my\n    being favourably heard, as at present, when I have to make my\n    defence. Not only am I now a member of a most un-English\n    communion, whose great aim is considered to be the extinction of\n    Protestantism and the Protestant Church, and whose means of\n    attack are popularly supposed to be unscrupulous cunning and\n    deceit, but how came I originally to have any relations with the\n    Church of Rome at all? did I, or my opinions, drop from the sky?\n    how came I, in Oxford, _in gremio Universitatis_, to present\n    myself to the eyes of men in that full blown investiture of\n    Popery? How could I dare, how could I have the conscience, with\n    warnings, with prophecies, with accusations against me, to\n    persevere in a path which steadily advanced towards, which ended\n    in, the religion of Rome? And how am I now to be trusted, when\n    long ago I was trusted, and was found wanting?\n\n    It is this which is the strength of the case of my Accuser\n    against me;--not the articles of impeachment which he has framed\n    from my writings, and which I shall easily crumble into dust,\n    but the bias of the court. It is the state of the atmosphere; it\n    is the vibration all around, which will echo his bold assertion\n    of my dishonesty; it is that prepossession against me, which\n    takes it for granted that, when my reasoning is convincing it is\n    only ingenious, and that when my statements are unanswerable,\n    there is always something put out of sight or hidden in my\n    sleeve; it is that plausible, but cruel conclusion to which men\n    are apt to jump, that when much is imputed, much must be true,\n    and that it is more likely that one should be to blame, than\n    that many should be mistaken in blaming him;--these are the real\n    foes which I have to fight, and the auxiliaries to whom my\n    Accuser makes his advances.\n\n    Well, I must break through this barrier of prejudice against me\n    if I can; and I think I shall be able to do so. When first I\n    read the Pamphlet of Accusation, I almost despaired of meeting\n    effectively such a heap of misrepresentations and such a\n    vehemence of animosity. What was the good of answering first one\n    point, and then another, and going through the whole circle of\n    its abuse; when my answer to the first point would be forgotten,\n    as soon as I got to the second? What was the use of bringing out\n    half a hundred separate principles or views for the refutation\n    of the separate counts in the Indictment, when rejoinders of\n    this sort would but confuse and torment the reader by their\n    number and their diversity? What hope was there of condensing\n    into a pamphlet of a readable length, matter which ought freely\n    to expand itself into half a dozen volumes? What means was\n    there, except the expenditure of interminable pages, to set\n    right even one of that series of \"single passing hints,\" to use\n    my Assailant's own language, which, \"as with his finger tip he\n    had delivered\" against me?\n\n    All those separate charges had their force in being\n    illustrations of one and the same great imputation. He had\n    already a positive idea to illuminate his whole matter, and to\n    stamp it with a force, and to quicken it with an interpretation.\n    He called me a _liar_,--a simple, a broad, an intelligible, to\n    the English public a plausible arraignment; but for me, to\n    answer in detail charge one by reason one, and charge two by\n    reason two, and charge three by reason three, and so on through\n    the whole string both of accusations and replies, each of which\n    was to be independent of the rest, this would be certainly\n    labour lost as regards any effective result. What I needed was a\n    corresponding antagonist unity in my defence, and where was that\n    to be found? We see, in the case of commentators on the\n    prophecies of Scripture, an exemplification of the principle on\n    which I am insisting; viz. how much more powerful even a false\n    interpretation of the sacred text is than none at all;--how a\n    certain key to the visions of the Apocalypse, for instance, may\n    cling to the mind (I have found it so in the case of my own),\n    because the view, which it opens on us, is positive and\n    objective, in spite of the fullest demonstration that it really\n    has no claim upon our reception. The reader says, \"What else can\n    the prophecy mean?\" just as my Accuser asks, \"What, then, does\n    Dr. Newman mean?\" ... I reflected, and I saw a way out of my\n    perplexity.\n\n    Yes, I said to myself, his very question is about my _meaning_;\n    \"What does Dr. Newman mean?\" It pointed in the very same\n    direction as that into which my musings had turned me already.\n    He asks what I _mean_; not about my words, not about my\n    arguments, not about my actions, as his ultimate point, but\n    about that living intelligence, by which I write, and argue, and\n    act. He asks about my Mind and its Beliefs and its sentiments;\n    and he shall be answered;--not for his own sake, but for mine,\n    for the sake of the Religion which I profess, and of the\n    Priesthood in which I am unworthily included, and of my friends\n    and of my foes, and of that general public which consists of\n    neither one nor the other, but of well-wishers, lovers of fair\n    play, sceptical cross-questioners, interested inquirers, curious\n    lookers-on, and simple strangers, unconcerned yet not careless\n    about the issue,--for the sake of all these he shall be\n    answered.\n\n    My perplexity had not lasted half an hour. I recognized what I\n    had to do, though I shrank from both the task and the exposure\n    which it would entail. I must, I said, give the true key to my\n    whole life; I must show what I am, that it may be seen what I am\n    not, and that the phantom may be extinguished which gibbers\n    instead of me. I wish to be known as a living man, and not as a\n    scarecrow which is dressed up in my clothes. False ideas may be\n    refuted indeed by argument, but by true ideas alone are they\n    expelled. I will vanquish, not my Accuser, but my judges. I will\n    indeed answer his charges and criticisms on me one by one[1],\n    lest any one should say that they are unanswerable, but such a\n    work shall not be the scope nor the substance of my reply. I\n    will draw out, as far as may be, the history of my mind; I will\n    state the point at which I began, in what external suggestion or\n    accident each opinion had its rise, how far and how they\n    developed from within, how they grew, were modified, were\n    combined, were in collision with each other, and were changed;\n    again how I conducted myself towards them, and how, and how far,\n    and for how long a time, I thought I could hold them\n    consistently with the ecclesiastical engagements which I had\n    made and with the position which I held. I must show,--what is\n    the very truth,--that the doctrines which I held, and have held\n    for so many years, have been taught me (speaking humanly) partly\n    by the suggestions of Protestant friends, partly by the teaching\n    of books, and partly by the action of my own mind: and thus I\n    shall account for that phenomenon which to so many seems so\n    wonderful, that I should have left \"my kindred and my father's\n    house\" for a Church from which once I turned away with\n    dread;--so wonderful to them! as if forsooth a Religion which\n    has flourished through so many ages, among so many nations, amid\n    such varieties of social life, in such contrary classes and\n    conditions of men, and after so many revolutions, political and\n    civil, could not subdue the reason and overcome the heart,\n    without the aid of fraud in the process and the sophistries of\n    the schools.\n\n    [1] This was done in the Appendix, of which the more important\n    parts are preserved in the Notes.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n    What I had proposed to myself in the course of half-an-hour, I\n    determined on at the end of ten days. However, I have many\n    difficulties in fulfilling my design. How am I to say all that\n    has to be said in a reasonable compass? And then as to the\n    materials of my narrative; I have no autobiographical notes to\n    consult, no written explanations of particular treatises or of\n    tracts which at the time gave offence, hardly any minutes of\n    definite transactions or conversations, and few contemporary\n    memoranda, I fear, of the feelings or motives under which, from\n    time to time I acted. I have an abundance of letters from\n    friends with some copies or drafts of my answers to them, but\n    they are for the most part unsorted; and, till this process has\n    taken place, they are even too numerous and various to be\n    available at a moment for my purpose. Then, as to the volumes\n    which I have published, they would in many ways serve me, were I\n    well up in them: but though I took great pains in their\n    composition, I have thought little about them, when they were\n    once out of my hands, and for the most part the last time I read\n    them has been when I revised their last proof sheets.\n\n    Under these circumstances my sketch will of course be\n    incomplete. I now for the first time contemplate my course as a\n    whole; it is a first essay, but it will contain, I trust, no\n    serious or substantial mistake, and so far will answer the\n    purpose for which I write it. I purpose to set nothing down in\n    it as certain, of which I have not a clear memory, or some\n    written memorial, or the corroboration of some friend. There are\n    witnesses enough up and down the country to verify, or correct,\n    or complete it; and letters moreover of my own in abundance,\n    unless they have been destroyed.\n\n    Moreover, I mean to be simply personal and historical: I am not\n    expounding Catholic doctrine, I am doing no more than explaining\n    myself, and my opinions and actions. I wish, as far as I am\n    able, simply to state facts, whether they are ultimately\n    determined to be for me or against me. Of course there will be\n    room enough for contrariety of judgment among my readers, as to\n    the necessity, or appositeness, or value, or good taste, or\n    religious prudence, of the details which I shall introduce. I\n    may be accused of laying stress on little things, of being\n    beside the mark, of going into impertinent or ridiculous\n    details, of sounding my own praise, of giving scandal; but this\n    is a case above all others, in which I am bound to follow my own\n    lights and to speak out my own heart. It is not at all pleasant\n    for me to be egotistical; nor to be criticized for being so. It\n    is not pleasant to reveal to high and low, young and old, what\n    has gone on within me from my early years. It is not pleasant to\n    be giving to every shallow or flippant disputant the advantage\n    over me of knowing my most private thoughts, I might even say\n    the intercourse between myself and my Maker. But I do not like\n    to be called to my face a liar and a knave; nor should I be\n    doing my duty to my faith or to my name, if I were to suffer it.\n    I know I have done nothing to deserve such an insult, and if I\n    prove this, as I hope to do, I must not care for such incidental\n    annoyances as are involved in the process.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nHistory of my Religious Opinions up to 1833\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nHistory of my Religious Opinions from 1833 to 1839\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nHistory of my Religious Opinions from 1839 to 1841\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nHistory of my Religious Opinions from 1841 to 1845\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nPosition of my Mind since 1845\n\n\nNOTES.\n\nNote A. On page  14. Liberalism\n\n     B. On page  23. Ecclesiastical Miracles\n\n     C. On page 153. Sermon on Wisdom and Innocence\n\n     D. On page 213. Series of Saints' Lives of 1843-4\n\n     E. On page 227. Anglican Church\n\n     F. On page 269. The Economy\n\n     G. On page 279. Lying and Equivocation\n\n\nSUPPLEMENTAL MATTER.\n\n1. Chronological List of Letters and Papers quoted in this Narrative\n\n2. List of the Author's Works\n\n3. Letter to him from his Diocesan\n\n4. Addresses from bodies of Clergy and Laity\n\n\nADDITIONAL NOTES.\n\nNote 1, on page 12. Correspondence with Archbishop Whately in 1834\n\n2, on page 90. Extract of a Letter from the Rev. E. Smedley in 1828\n\n3, on page 185. Extract of a Letter of the Rev. Francis Faber about 1849\n\n4, on pages 194-196. The late Very Rev. Dr. Russell\n\n5, on page 232. Extract of a Letter from the Rev. John Keble in 1844\n\n6, on page 237. Extract from the _Times_ concerning the Author's visit\nto Oxford in 1878\n\n7, on page 302. The oil of St. Walburga\n\n8, on page 323. Boniface of Canterbury\n\n\n\n\nMY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nHISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS TO THE YEAR 1833.\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 least\npart of my trial, to anticipate that, upon first reading what I have\nwritten, my friends may consider much in it irrelevant to my purpose;\nyet I cannot help thinking that, viewed as a whole, it will effect what\nI propose to myself in giving it to the public.\n\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. Of\ncourse I had a perfect knowledge of my Catechism.\n\nAfter I was grown up, I put on paper my recollections of the thoughts\nand feelings on religious subjects, which I had at the time that I was a\nchild and a boy,--such as had remained on my mind with sufficient\nprominence to make me then consider them worth recording. Out of these,\nwritten in the Long Vacation of 1820, and transcribed with additions in\n1823, I select two, which are at once the most definite among them, and\nalso have a bearing on my later convictions.\n\n1. \"I used to wish the Arabian Tales were true: my imagination ran on\nunknown influences, on magical powers, and talismans.... I thought life\nmight be a dream, or I an Angel, and all this world a deception, my\nfellow-angels by a playful device concealing themselves from me, and\ndeceiving me with the semblance 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 the\neffect, that 'there is nothing in their figure or countenance to\ndistinguish them,' &c., &c., I supposed he spoke of Angels who lived in\nthe world, as it were disguised.\"\n\n2. The other remark is this: \"I was very superstitious, and for some\ntime previous to my conversion\" [when I was fifteen] \"used constantly to\ncross 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 one\nhad ever spoken to me on the subject of the Catholic religion, which I\nonly knew by name. The French master was an _\u00e9migr\u00e9_ Priest, but he was\nsimply made a butt, as French masters too commonly were in that day, and\nspoke English very imperfectly. There was a Catholic family in the\nvillage, old maiden ladies we used to think; but I knew nothing about\nthem. I have of late years heard that there were one or two Catholic\nboys in the school; but either we were carefully kept from knowing this,\nor the knowledge of it made simply no impression on our minds. My\nbrother will bear witness how free the school 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 from\nit was the recollection of a pulpit and a preacher, and a boy swinging a\ncenser.\n\nWhen I was at Littlemore, I was looking over old copy-books of my school\ndays, and I found among them my first Latin verse-book; and in the first\npage of it there was a device which almost took my breath away with\nsurprise. I have the book before me now, and have just been showing it\nto others. I have written in the first page, in my school-boy hand,\n\"John. H. Newman, February 11th, 1811, Verse Book;\" then follow my first\nVerses. Between \"Verse\" and \"Book\" I have drawn the figure of a solid\ncross upright, and next to it is, what may indeed be meant for a\nnecklace, but what I cannot make out to be any thing else than a set of\nbeads suspended, with a little cross attached. At this time I was not\nquite ten years old. I suppose I got these ideas from some romance, Mrs.\nRadcliffe's or Miss Porter's; or from some religious picture; but the\nstrange thing is, how, among the thousand objects which meet a boy's\neyes, these in particular should so have fixed themselves in my mind,\nthat I made them thus practically my own. I am certain there was nothing\nin the churches I attended, or the prayer books I read, to suggest them.\nIt must be recollected that Anglican churches and prayer books were not\ndecorated in those 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 in\nthem. Also, I read some of Hume's Essays; and perhaps that on Miracles.\nSo at least I gave my Father to understand; but perhaps it was a brag.\nAlso, I recollect copying out some French verses, perhaps Voltaire's, in\ndenial of the immortality of the soul, and saying to myself something\nlike \"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, and\nreceived into my intellect impressions of dogma, which, through God's\nmercy, have never been effaced or obscured. Above and beyond the\nconversations and sermons of the excellent man, long dead, the Rev.\nWalter Mayers, of Pembroke College, Oxford, who was the human means of\nthis beginning of divine faith in me, was the effect of the books which\nhe put into my hands, all of the school of Calvin. One of the first\nbooks I read was a work of Romaine's; I neither recollect the title nor\nthe contents, except one doctrine, which of course I do not include\namong those which I believe to have come from a divine source, viz. the\ndoctrine of final perseverance. I received it at once, and believed that\nthe inward conversion of which I was conscious, (and of which I still am\nmore certain than that I have hands and feet,) would last into the next\nlife, and that I was elected to eternal glory. I have no consciousness\nthat this belief had any tendency whatever to lead me to be careless\nabout pleasing God. I retained it till the age of twenty-one, when it\ngradually faded away; but I believe that it had some influence on my\nopinions, in the direction of those childish imaginations which I have\nalready mentioned, viz. in isolating me from the objects which\nsurrounded me, in confirming me in my mistrust of the reality of\nmaterial phenomena, and making me rest in the thought of two and two\nonly absolute and luminously self-evident beings, myself and my\nCreator;--for while I considered myself predestined to salvation, my\nmind did not dwell upon others, as fancying them simply passed over, not\npredestined to eternal death. I only thought of the mercy 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 deeper\nimpression on my mind than any other, and to whom (humanly speaking) I\nalmost owe my soul,--Thomas Scott of Aston Sandford. I so admired and\ndelighted in his writings, that, when I was an under-graduate, I thought\nof making a visit to his Parsonage, in order to see a man whom I so\ndeeply revered. I hardly think I could have given up the idea of this\nexpedition, even after I had taken my degree; for the news of his death\nin 1821 came upon me as a disappointment as well as a sorrow. I hung\nupon the lips of Daniel Wilson, afterwards Bishop of Calcutta, as in two\nsermons at St. John's Chapel he gave the history of Scott's life and\ndeath. I had been possessed of his \"Force of Truth\" and Essays from a\nboy; his Commentary I bought when I was an under-graduate.\n\nWhat, I suppose, will strike any reader of Scott's history and writings,\nis his bold unworldliness and vigorous independence of mind. He followed\ntruth wherever it led him, beginning with Unitarianism, and ending in a\nzealous faith in the Holy Trinity. It was he who first planted deep in\nmy mind that fundamental truth of religion. With the assistance of\nScott's Essays, and the admirable work of Jones of Nayland, I made a\ncollection of Scripture texts in proof of the doctrine, with remarks (I\nthink) of my own upon them, before I was sixteen; and a few months later\nI drew up a series of texts in support of each verse of the Athanasian\nCreed. These papers I have still.\n\nBesides his unworldliness, what I also admired in Scott was his resolute\nopposition to Antinomianism, and the minutely practical character of his\nwritings. They show him to be a true Englishman, and I deeply felt his\ninfluence; and for years I used almost as proverbs what I considered to\nbe the scope and issue of his doctrine, \"Holiness rather than peace,\"\nand \"Growth the only evidence of life.\"\n\nCalvinists make a sharp separation between the elect and the world;\nthere is much in this that is cognate or parallel to the Catholic\ndoctrine; but they go on to say, as I understand them, very differently\nfrom Catholicism,--that the converted and the unconverted can be\ndiscriminated by man, that the justified are conscious of their state of\njustification, and that the regenerate cannot fall away. Catholics on\nthe other hand shade and soften the awful antagonism between good and\nevil, which is one of their dogmas, by holding that there are different\ndegrees of justification, that there is a great difference in point of\ngravity between sin and sin, that there is the possibility and the\ndanger of falling away, and that there is no certain knowledge given to\nany one that he is simply in a state of grace, and much less that he is\nto persevere to the end:--of the Calvinistic tenets the only one which\ntook root in my mind was the fact of heaven and hell, divine favour and\ndivine wrath, of the justified and the unjustified. The notion that the\nregenerate and the justified were one and the same, and that the\nregenerate, as such, had the gift of perseverance, remained with me not\nmany years, as I have said already.\n\nThis main Catholic doctrine of the warfare between the city of God and\nthe powers of darkness was also deeply impressed upon my mind by a work\nof a character very opposite to Calvinism, Law's \"Serious Call.\"\n\nFrom this time I have held with a full inward assent and belief the\ndoctrine of eternal punishment, as delivered by our Lord Himself, in as\ntrue a sense as I hold that of eternal happiness; though I have tried in\nvarious ways to make that truth less terrible to the imagination.\n\nNow I come to two other works, which produced a deep impression on me in\nthe same Autumn of 1816, when I was fifteen years old, each contrary to\neach, and planting in me the seeds of an intellectual inconsistency\nwhich disabled me for a long course of years. I read Joseph Milner's\nChurch History, and was nothing short of enamoured of the long extracts\nfrom St. Augustine, St. Ambrose, and the other Fathers which I found\nthere. I read them as being the religion of the primitive Christians:\nbut simultaneously with Milner I read Newton on the Prophecies, and in\nconsequence became most firmly convinced that the Pope was the\nAntichrist predicted by Daniel, St. Paul, and St. John. My imagination\nwas stained by the effects of this doctrine up to the year 1843; it had\nbeen obliterated from my reason and judgment at an earlier date; but the\nthought remained upon me as a sort of false conscience. Hence came that\nconflict of mind, which so many have felt besides myself;--leading some\nmen to make a compromise between two ideas, so inconsistent with each\nother,--driving others to beat out the one idea or the other from their\nminds,--and ending in my own case, after many years of intellectual\nunrest, in the gradual decay and extinction of one of them,--I do not\nsay in its violent death, for why should I not have murdered it sooner,\nif I murdered it at all?\n\nI am obliged to mention, though I do it with great reluctance, another\ndeep imagination, which at this time, the autumn of 1816, took\npossession of me,--there can be no mistake about the fact; viz. that it\nwould be 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, and,\nafter that date, without any break at all,--was more or less connected\nin my mind with the notion, that my calling in life would require such a\nsacrifice as celibacy involved; as, for instance, missionary work among\nthe heathen, to which I had a great drawing for some years. It also\nstrengthened my feeling of separation from the visible world, of which I\nhave spoken above.\n\nIn 1822 I came under very different influences from those to which I had\nhitherto been subjected. At that time, Mr. Whately, as he was then,\nafterwards Archbishop of Dublin, for the few months he remained in\nOxford, which he was leaving for good, showed great kindness to me. He\nrenewed it in 1825, when he became Principal of Alban Hall, making me\nhis Vice-Principal and Tutor. Of Dr. Whately I will speak presently: for\nfrom 1822 to 1825 I saw most of the present Provost of Oriel, Dr.\nHawkins, at that time Vicar of St. Mary's; and, when I took orders in\n1824 and had a curacy in Oxford, then, during the Long Vacations, I was\nespecially thrown into his company. I can say with a full heart that I\nlove him, and have never ceased to love him; and I thus preface what\notherwise might sound rude, that in the course of the many years in\nwhich we were together afterwards, he provoked me very much from time to\ntime, though I am perfectly certain that I have provoked him a great\ndeal more. Moreover, in me such provocation was unbecoming, both because\nhe was the Head of my College, and because, in the first years that I\nknew him, he had been in many ways of great service to my mind.\n\nHe was the first who taught me to weigh my words, and to be cautious in\nmy statements. He led me to that mode of limiting and clearing my sense\nin discussion and in controversy, and of distinguishing between cognate\nideas, and of obviating mistakes by anticipation, which to my surprise\nhas been since considered, even in quarters friendly to me, to savour of\nthe polemics of Rome. He is a man of most exact mind himself, and he\nused to snub me severely, on reading, as he was kind enough to do, the\nfirst Sermons that I wrote, and other compositions which I was engaged\nupon.\n\nThen as to doctrine, he was the means of great additions to my belief.\nAs I have noticed elsewhere, he gave me the \"Treatise on Apostolical\nPreaching,\" by Sumner, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury, from which I\nwas led to give up my remaining Calvinism, and to receive the doctrine\nof Baptismal Regeneration. In many other ways too he was of use to me,\non subjects semi-religious and semi-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 conversation\nof Mr. Blanco White, who also led me to have freer views on the subject\nof inspiration than were usual in the Church of England 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; and\nthat is the doctrine of Tradition. When I was an Under-graduate, I heard\nhim preach in the University Pulpit his celebrated sermon on the\nsubject, and recollect how long it appeared to me, though he was at that\ntime a very striking preacher; but, when I read it and studied it as his\ngift, it made a most serious impression upon me. He does not go one\nstep, I think, beyond the high Anglican doctrine, nay he does not reach\nit; but he does his work thoroughly, and his view was in him original,\nand his subject was a novel one at the time. He lays down a proposition,\nself-evident as soon as stated, to those who have at all examined the\nstructure of Scripture, viz. that the sacred text was never intended to\nteach doctrine, but only to prove it, and that, if we would learn\ndoctrine, we must have recourse to the formularies of the Church; for\ninstance to the Catechism, and to the Creeds. He considers, that, after\nlearning from them the doctrines of Christianity, the inquirer must\nverify them by Scripture. This view, most true in its outline, most\nfruitful in its consequences, opened upon me a large field of thought.\nDr. Whately held it too. One of its effects was to strike at the root of\nthe principle on which the Bible Society was set up. I belonged to its\nOxford Association; it became a matter of time when I should withdraw my\nname 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 Rev.\nWilliam James, then Fellow of Oriel; who, about the year 1823, taught me\nthe doctrine of Apostolical Succession, in the course of a walk, I\nthink, round Christ Church meadow; I recollect being somewhat impatient\nof 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 era\nin their religious opinions. Its inculcation of a visible Church, the\noracle of truth and a pattern of sanctity, of the duties of external\nreligion, and of the historical character of Revelation, are\ncharacteristics of this great work which strike the reader at once; for\nmyself, if I may attempt to determine what I most gained from it, it lay\nin two points, which I shall have an opportunity of dwelling on in the\nsequel; they are the underlying principles of a great portion of my\nteaching. First, the very idea of an analogy between the separate works\nof God leads to the conclusion that the system which is of less\nimportance is economically or sacramentally connected with the more\nmomentous system[2], and of this conclusion the theory, to which I was\ninclined as a boy, viz. the unreality of material phenomena, is an\nultimate resolution. At this time I did not make the distinction between\nmatter itself and its phenomena, which is so necessary and so obvious in\ndiscussing the subject. Secondly, Butler's doctrine that Probability is\nthe guide of life, led me, at least under the teaching to which a few\nyears later I was introduced, to the question of the logical cogency of\nFaith, on which I have written so much. Thus to Butler I trace those two\nprinciples of my teaching, which have led to a charge against me both of\nfancifulness and of scepticism.\n\n[2] It is significant that Butler begins his work with a quotation from\nOrigen.\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, and\nto use the common phrase, \"all his geese were swans.\" While I was still\nawkward and timid in 1822, he took me by the hand, and acted towards me\nthe part of a gentle and encouraging instructor. He, emphatically,\nopened my mind, and taught me to think and to use my reason. After being\nfirst noticed by him in 1822, I became very intimate with him in 1825,\nwhen I was his Vice-Principal at Alban Hall. I gave up that office in\n1826, when I became Tutor of my College, and his hold upon me gradually\nrelaxed. He had done his work towards me or nearly so, when he had\ntaught me to see with my own eyes and to walk with my own feet. Not that\nI had not a good deal to learn from others still, but I influenced them\nas well as they me, and co-operated rather than merely concurred with\nthem. As to Dr. Whately, his mind was too different from mine for us to\nremain long on one line. I recollect how dissatisfied he was with an\nArticle of mine in the London Review, which Blanco White,\ngood-humouredly, only called Platonic. When I was diverging from him in\nopinion (which he did not like), I thought of dedicating my first book\nto him, in words to the effect that he had not only taught me to think,\nbut to think for myself. He left Oxford in 1831; after that, as far as I\ncan recollect, I never saw him but twice,--when he visited the\nUniversity; once in the street in 1834, once in a room in 1838. From the\ntime that he left, I have always felt a real affection for what I must\ncall his memory; for, at least from the year 1834, he made himself dead\nto me. He had practically indeed given me up from the time that he\nbecame Archbishop in 1831; but in 1834 a correspondence took place\nbetween us, which, though conducted especially on his side in a friendly\nspirit, was the expression of differences of opinion which acted as a\nfinal close to our intercourse. My reason told me that it was impossible\nwe could have got on together longer, had he stayed in Oxford; yet I\nloved him too much to bid him farewell without pain. After a few years\nhad passed, I began to believe that his influence on me in a higher\nrespect than intellectual advance, (I will not say through his fault,)\nhad not been satisfactory. I believe that he has inserted sharp things\nin his later works about me. They have never come in my way, and I have\nnot thought it necessary to seek out what would pain me so much in the\nreading.\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 were\none of the most prominent features of the Tractarian movement. On this\npoint, and, as far as I know, on this point alone, he and Hurrell Froude\nintimately sympathized, though Froude's development of opinion here was\nof a later date. In the year 1826, in the course of a walk, he said much\nto me about a work then just published, called \"Letters on the Church by\nan Episcopalian.\" He said that it would make my blood boil. It was\ncertainly a most powerful composition. One of our common friends told\nme, that, after reading it, he could not keep still, but went on walking\nup and down his room. It was ascribed at once to Whately; I gave eager\nexpression to the contrary opinion; but I found the belief of Oxford in\nthe affirmative to be too strong for me; rightly or wrongly I yielded to\nthe general voice; and I have never heard, then or since, of any\ndisclaimer of authorship on the part of Dr. Whately.\n\nThe main positions of this able essay are these; first that Church and\nState should be independent of each other:--he speaks of the duty of\nprotesting \"against the profanation of Christ's kingdom, by that _double\nusurpation_, the interference of the Church in temporals, of the State\nin spirituals,\" p. 191; and, secondly, that the Church may justly and by\nright retain its property, though separated from the State. \"The\nclergy,\" he says p. 133, \"though they ought not to be the hired servants\nof the Civil Magistrate, may justly retain their revenues; and the\nState, though it has no right of interference in spiritual concerns, not\nonly is justly entitled to support from the ministers of religion, and\nfrom all other Christians, but would, under the system I am\nrecommending, obtain it much more effectually.\" The author of this work,\nwhoever he may be, argues out both these points with great force and\ningenuity, and with a thorough-going vehemence, which perhaps we may\nrefer to the circumstance, that he wrote, not _in propri\u00e2 person\u00e2_, and\nas thereby answerable for every sentiment that he advanced, but in the\nprofessed character of a Scotch Episcopalian. His work had a gradual,\nbut a deep effect on my mind.\n\nI am not aware of any other religious opinion which I owe to Dr.\nWhately. In his special theological tenets I had no sympathy. In the\nnext year, 1827, he told me he considered that I was Arianizing. 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, both\nCatholic and non-Catholic, have accused of wearing a sort of Arian\nexterior. This is the meaning of a passage in Froude's Remains, in which\nhe seems to accuse me of speaking against the Athanasian Creed. I had\ncontrasted the two aspects of the Trinitarian doctrine, which are\nrespectively presented by the Athanasian Creed and the Nicene. My\ncriticisms were to the effect that some of the verses of the former\nCreed were unnecessarily scientific. This is a specimen of a certain\ndisdain for Antiquity which had been growing on me now for several\nyears. It showed itself in some flippant language against the Fathers in\nthe Encyclop\u00e6dia Metropolitana, about whom I knew little at the time,\nexcept what I had learnt as a boy from Joseph Milner. In writing on the\nScripture Miracles in 1825-6, I had read Middleton on the Miracles of\nthe early Church, and had imbibed a portion of his spirit.\n\nThe truth is, I was beginning to prefer intellectual excellence to\nmoral; I was drifting in the direction of the Liberalism of the day[3].\nI was rudely awakened from my dream at the end of 1827 by two great\nblows--illness and bereavement.\n\n[3] Vide Note A, _Liberalism_, at the end of the volume.\n\nIn the beginning of 1829, came the formal break between Dr. Whately and\nme; the affair of Mr. Peel's re-election was the occasion of it. I think\nin 1828 or 1827 I had voted in the minority, when the Petition to\nParliament against the Catholic Claims was brought into Convocation. I\ndid so mainly on the views suggested to me in the Letters of an\nEpiscopalian. Also I shrank from the bigoted \"two-bottle-orthodox,\" as\nthey were invidiously called. When then I took part against Mr. Peel, it\nwas on an academical, not at all an ecclesiastical or a political\nground; and this I professed at the time. I considered that Mr. Peel had\ntaken the University by surprise; that his friends had no right to call\nupon us to turn round on a sudden, and to expose ourselves to the\nimputation of time-serving; and that a great University ought not to be\nbullied even by a great Duke of Wellington. Also by this time I was\nunder the influence of Keble and Froude; who, in addition to the reasons\nI have given, disliked the Duke's change of policy as dictated by\nliberalism.\n\nWhately was considerably annoyed at me, and he took a humourous revenge,\nof which he had given me due notice beforehand. As head of a house he\nhad duties of hospitality to men of all parties; he asked a set of the\nleast intellectual men in Oxford to dinner, and men most fond of port;\nhe made me one of this party; placed me between Provost This and\nPrincipal That, and then asked me if I was proud of my friends. However,\nhe had a serious meaning in his act; he saw, more clearly than I could\ndo, that I was separating from his own friends for good and all.\n\nDr. Whately attributed my leaving his _clientela_ to a wish on my part\nto be the head of a party myself. I do not think that this charge was\ndeserved. My habitual feeling then and since has been, that it was not I\nwho sought friends, but friends who sought me. Never man had kinder or\nmore indulgent friends than I have had; but I expressed my own feeling\nas to the mode in which I gained them, in this very year 1829, in the\ncourse of a copy of verses. Speaking of my blessings, I said, \"Blessings\nof friends, which to my door _unasked, unhoped_, have come.\" They have\ncome, they have gone; they came to my great joy, they went to my great\ngrief. He who gave took away. Dr. Whately's impression about me,\nhowever, admits of this explanation:--\n\nDuring the first years of my residence at Oriel, though proud of my\nCollege, I was not quite at home there. I was very much alone, and I\nused often to take my daily walk by myself. I recollect once meeting Dr.\nCopleston, then Provost, with one of the Fellows. He turned round, and\nwith the kind courteousness which sat so well on him, made me a bow and\nsaid, \"Nunquam minus solus, qu\u00e0m c\u00f9m solus.\" At that time indeed (from\n1823) I had the intimacy of my dear and true friend Dr. Pusey, and could\nnot fail to admire and revere a soul so devoted to the cause of\nreligion, so full of good works, so faithful in his affections; but he\nleft residence when I was getting to know him well. As to Dr. Whately\nhimself, he was too much my superior to allow of my being at my ease\nwith him; and to no one in Oxford at this time did I open my heart fully\nand familiarly. But things changed in 1826. At that time I became one of\nthe Tutors of my College, and this gave me position; besides, I had\nwritten one or two Essays which had been well received. I began to be\nknown. I preached my first University Sermon. Next year I was one of the\nPublic Examiners for the B.A. degree. In 1828 I became Vicar of St.\nMary's. 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, beneficed\nclergymen, no longer my friends. They could tell better than any one\nelse what I was in those years. From this time my tongue was, as it\nwere, loosened, and I spoke spontaneously and without effort. One of the\ntwo, Mr. Rickards, said of me, I have been told, \"Here is a fellow who,\nwhen he is silent, will never begin to speak; and when he once begins to\nspeak, will never stop.\" It was at this time that I began to have\ninfluence, which steadily increased for a course of years. I gained upon\nmy pupils, and was in particular intimate and affectionate with two of\nour probationer Fellows, Robert Isaac Wilberforce (afterwards\nArchdeacon) and Richard Hurrell Froude. Whately then, an acute man,\nperhaps saw around me the signs of an incipient party, of which I was\nnot conscious myself. And thus we discern the first elements of that\nmovement afterwards called Tractarian.\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 the\nhighest honours of the University, he had turned from the admiration\nwhich haunted his steps, and sought for a better and holier satisfaction\nin pastoral work in the country. Need I say that I am speaking of John\nKeble? The first time that I was in a room with him was on occasion of\nmy election to a fellowship at Oriel, when I was sent for into the\nTower, to shake hands with the Provost and Fellows. How is that hour\nfixed in my memory after the changes of forty-two years, forty-two this\nvery day on which I write! I have lately had a letter in my hands, which\nI sent at the time to my great friend, John William Bowden, with whom I\npassed almost exclusively my Under-graduate years. \"I had to hasten to\nthe Tower,\" I say to him, \"to receive the congratulations of all the\nFellows. I bore it till Keble took my hand, and then felt so abashed and\nunworthy of the honour done me, that I seemed desirous of quite sinking\ninto the ground.\" His had been the first name which I had heard spoken\nof, with reverence rather than admiration, when I came up to Oxford.\nWhen one day I was walking in High Street with my dear earliest friend\njust mentioned, with what eagerness did he cry out, \"There's Keble!\" and\nwith what awe did I look at him! Then at another time I heard a Master\nof Arts of my College give an account how he had just then had occasion\nto introduce himself on some business to Keble, and how gentle,\ncourteous, and unaffected Keble had been, so as almost to put him out of\ncountenance. Then too it was reported, truly or falsely, how a rising\nman of brilliant reputation, the present Dean of St. Paul's, Dr. Milman,\nadmired and loved him, adding, that somehow he was strangely unlike any\none else. However, at the time when I was elected Fellow of Oriel he was\nnot in residence, and he was shy of me for years in consequence of the\nmarks which I bore upon me of the evangelical and liberal schools. At\nleast so I have ever thought. Hurrell Froude brought us together about\n1828: it is one of the sayings preserved in his \"Remains,\"--\"Do you know\nthe story of the murderer who had done one good thing in his life? Well;\nif I was ever asked what good deed I had ever done, I should say that I\nhad brought Keble and Newman to understand each other.\"\n\nThe Christian Year made its appearance in 1827. It is not necessary, and\nscarcely becoming, to praise a book which has already become one of the\nclassics of the language. When the general tone of religious literature\nwas so nerveless and impotent, as it was at that time, Keble struck an\noriginal note and woke up in the hearts of thousands a new music, the\nmusic of a school, long unknown in England. Nor can I pretend to\nanalyze, in my own instance, the effect of religious teaching so deep,\nso pure, so beautiful. I have never till now tried to do so; yet I think\nI am not wrong in saying, that the two main intellectual truths which it\nbrought home to me, were the same two, which I had learned from Butler,\nthough recast in the creative mind of my new master. The first of those\nwas what may be called, in a large sense of the word, the Sacramental\nsystem; that is, the doctrine that material phenomena are both the types\nand the instruments of real things unseen,--a doctrine, which embraces\nin its fulness, not only what Anglicans, as well as Catholics, believe\nabout Sacraments properly so called; but also the article of \"the\nCommunion of Saints;\" and likewise the Mysteries of the faith. The\nconnexion of this philosophy of religion with what is sometimes called\n\"Berkeleyism\" has been mentioned above; I knew little of Berkeley at\nthis 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 through\nvery much that I have written, and has gained for me many hard names.\nButler teaches us that probability is the guide of life. The danger of\nthis doctrine, in the case of many minds, is, its tendency to destroy in\nthem absolute certainty, leading them to consider every conclusion as\ndoubtful, and resolving truth into an opinion, which it is safe indeed\nto obey or to profess, but not possible to embrace with full internal\nassent. If this were to be allowed, then the celebrated saying, \"O God,\nif there be a God, save my soul, if I have a soul!\" would be the highest\nmeasure of devotion:--but who can really pray to a Being, about whose\nexistence he is seriously in doubt?\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 and\nlove which accepted it. In matters of religion, he seemed to say, it is\nnot merely probability which makes us intellectually certain, but\nprobability as it is put to account by faith and love. It is faith and\nlove which give to probability a force which it has not in itself. Faith\nand love are directed towards an Object; in the vision of that Object\nthey live; it is that Object, received in faith and love, which renders\nit reasonable to take probability as sufficient for internal conviction.\nThus the argument from Probability, in the matter of religion, became an\nargument from Personality, which in fact is one form of the argument\nfrom Authority.\n\nIn illustration, Mr. Keble used to quote the words of the Psalm: \"I will\nguide thee with mine _eye_. Be ye not like to horse and mule, which have\nno understanding; whose mouths must be held with bit and bridle, lest\nthey fall upon thee.\" This is the very difference, he used to say,\nbetween slaves, and friends or children. Friends do not ask for literal\ncommands; but, from their knowledge of the speaker, they understand his\nhalf-words, and from love of him they anticipate his wishes. Hence it\nis, that in his Poem for St. Bartholomew's Day, he speaks of the \"Eye of\nGod's word;\" and in the note quotes Mr. Miller, of Worcester College,\nwho remarks in his Bampton Lectures, on the special power of Scripture,\nas having \"this Eye, like that of a portrait, uniformly fixed upon us,\nturn where we will.\" The view thus suggested by Mr. Keble, is brought\nforward in one of the earliest of the \"Tracts for the Times.\" In No. 8 I\nsay, \"The Gospel is a Law of Liberty. We are treated as sons, not as\nservants; not subjected to a code of formal commandments, but addressed\nas those who love God, and wish to please Him.\"\n\nI did not at all dispute this view of the matter, for I made use of it\nmyself; but I was dissatisfied, because it did not go to the root of the\ndifficulty. It was beautiful and religious, but it did not even profess\nto be logical; and accordingly I tried to complete it by considerations\nof my own, which are to be found in my University Sermons, Essay on\nEcclesiastical Miracles, and Essay on Development of Doctrine. My\nargument is in outline as follows: that that absolute certitude which we\nwere able to possess, whether as to the truths of natural theology, or\nas to the fact of a revelation, was the result of an _assemblage_ of\nconcurring and converging probabilities, and that, both according to the\nconstitution of the human mind and the will of its Maker; that certitude\nwas a habit of mind, that certainty was a quality of propositions; that\nprobabilities which did not reach to logical certainty, might suffice\nfor a mental certitude; that the certitude thus brought about might\nequal in measure and strength the certitude which was created by the\nstrictest scientific demonstration; and that to possess such certitude\nmight in given cases and to given individuals be a plain duty, though\nnot to others in other circumstances:--\n\nMoreover, that as there were probabilities which sufficed for certitude,\nso there were other probabilities which were legitimately adapted to\ncreate opinion; that it might be quite as much a matter of duty in given\ncases and to given persons to have about a fact an opinion of a definite\nstrength and consistency, as in the case of greater or of more numerous\nprobabilities it was a duty to have a certitude; that accordingly we\nwere bound to be more or less sure, on a sort of (as it were) graduated\nscale of assent, viz. according as the probabilities attaching to a\nprofessed fact were brought home to us, and as the case might be, to\nentertain about it a pious belief, or a pious opinion, or a religious\nconjecture, or at least, a tolerance of such belief, or opinion or\nconjecture in others; that on the other hand, as it was a duty to have a\nbelief, of more or less strong texture, in given cases, so in other\ncases it was a duty not to believe, not to opine, not to conjecture, not\neven to tolerate the notion that a professed fact was true, inasmuch as\nit would be credulity or superstition, or some other moral fault, to do\nso. This was the region of Private Judgment in religion; that is, of a\nPrivate Judgment, 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 reconsider the view which I\nhad taken 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 founded.\nThat there had been already great miracles, as those of Scripture, as\nthe Resurrection, was a fact establishing the principle that the laws of\nnature had sometimes been suspended by their Divine Author, and since\nwhat had happened once might happen again, a certain probability, at\nleast no kind of improbability, was attached to the idea taken in\nitself, of miraculous intervention in later times, and miraculous\naccounts were to be regarded in connexion with the verisimilitude,\nscope, instrument, character, testimony, and circumstances, with which\nthey presented themselves to us; and, according to the final result of\nthose various considerations, it was our duty to be sure, or to believe,\nor to opine, or to surmise, or to tolerate, or to reject, or to\ndenounce. The main difference between my Essay on Miracles in 1826 and\nmy Essay in 1842 is this: that in 1826 I considered that miracles were\nsharply divided into two classes, those which were to be received, and\nthose which were to be rejected; whereas in 1842 I saw that they were to\nbe regarded according to their greater or less probability, which was in\nsome cases sufficient to create certitude about them, in other cases\nonly belief or opinion.\n\nMoreover, the argument from Analogy, on which this view of the question\nwas founded, suggested to me something besides, in recommendation of the\nEcclesiastical Miracles. It fastened itself upon the theory of Church\nHistory which I had learned as a boy from Joseph Milner. It is Milner's\ndoctrine, that upon the visible Church come down from above, at certain\nintervals, large and temporary _Effusions_ of divine grace. This is the\nleading idea of his work. He begins by speaking of the Day of Pentecost,\nas marking \"the first of those _Effusions_ of the Spirit of God, which\nfrom age to age have visited the earth since the coming of Christ.\" Vol.\ni. p. 3. In a note he adds that \"in the term 'Effusion' there is _not_\nhere included the idea of the miraculous or extraordinary operations of\nthe Spirit of God;\" but still it was natural for me, admitting Milner's\ngeneral theory, 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 the\nfirst effusion of grace, so they might accompany the later. It is surely\na natural and on the whole, a true anticipation (though of course there\nare exceptions in particular cases), that gifts and graces go together;\nnow, according to the ancient Catholic doctrine, the gift of miracles\nwas viewed as the attendant and shadow of transcendent sanctity: and\nmoreover, since such sanctity was not of every day's occurrence, nay\nfurther, since one period of Church history differed widely from\nanother, and, as Joseph Milner would say, there have been generations or\ncenturies of degeneracy or disorder, and times of revival, and since one\nregion might be in the mid-day of religious fervour, and another in\ntwilight or gloom, there was no force in the popular argument, that,\nbecause we did not see miracles with our own eyes, miracles had not\nhappened in former times, or were not now at this very time taking place\nin distant places:--but I must not dwell longer on a subject, to which\nin a few words it is impossible to do justice[4].\n\n[4] Vide note B, _Ecclesiastical Miracles_, at the end of the volume.\n\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 and\nmost affectionate friendship with him from about 1829 till his death in\n1836. He was a man of the highest gifts,--so truly many-sided, that it\nwould be presumptuous in me to attempt to describe him, except under\nthose aspects in which he came before me. Nor have I here to speak of\nthe gentleness and tenderness of nature, the playfulness, the free\nelastic force and graceful versatility of mind, and the patient winning\nconsiderateness in discussion, which endeared him to those to whom he\nopened his heart; for I am all along engaged upon matters of belief and\nopinion, and am introducing others into my narrative, not for their own\nsake, or because I love and have loved them, so much as because, and so\nfar as, they have influenced my theological views. In this respect then,\nI speak of Hurrell Froude,--in his intellectual aspect,--as a man of\nhigh genius, brimful and overflowing with ideas and views, in him\noriginal, which were too many and strong even for his bodily strength,\nand which crowded and jostled against each other in their effort after\ndistinct shape and expression. And he had an intellect as critical and\nlogical as it was speculative and bold. Dying prematurely, as he did,\nand in the conflict and transition-state of opinion, his religious views\nnever reached their ultimate conclusion, by the very reason of their\nmultitude and their depth. His opinions arrested and influenced me, even\nwhen they did not gain my assent. He professed openly his admiration of\nthe Church of Rome, and his hatred of the Reformers. He delighted in the\nnotion of an hierarchical system, of sacerdotal power, and of full\necclesiastical liberty. He felt scorn of the maxim, \"The Bible and the\nBible only is the religion of Protestants;\" and he gloried in accepting\nTradition as a main instrument of religious teaching. He had a high\nsevere idea of the intrinsic excellence of Virginity; and he considered\nthe Blessed Virgin its great Pattern. He delighted in thinking of the\nSaints; he had a vivid appreciation of the idea of sanctity, its\npossibility and its heights; and he was more than inclined to believe a\nlarge amount of miraculous interference as occurring in the early and\nmiddle ages. He embraced the principle of penance and mortification. He\nhad a deep devotion to the Real Presence, in which he had a firm faith.\nHe was powerfully drawn to the Medieval Church, but not to the\nPrimitive.\n\nHe had a keen insight into abstract truth; but he was an Englishman to\nthe backbone in his severe adherence to the real and the concrete. He\nhad a most classical taste, and a genius for philosophy and art; and he\nwas fond of historical inquiry, and the politics of religion. He had no\nturn for theology as such. He set no sufficient value on the writings of\nthe Fathers, on the detail or development of doctrine, on the definite\ntraditions of the Church viewed in their matter, on the teaching of the\nEcumenical Councils, or on the controversies out of which they arose. He\ntook an eager courageous view of things on the whole. I should say that\nhis power of entering into the minds of others did not equal his other\ngifts; he could not believe, for instance, that I really held the Roman\nChurch to be Anti-christian. On many points he would not believe but\nthat I agreed with him, when I did not. He seemed not to understand my\ndifficulties. His were of a different kind, the contrariety between\ntheory and fact. He was a high Tory of the Cavalier stamp, and was\ndisgusted with the Toryism of the opponents of the Reform Bill. He was\nsmitten with the love of the Theocratic Church; he went abroad and was\nshocked by the degeneracy which he thought he saw in the Catholics of\nItaly.\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 taught me\nto look 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       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere is one remaining source of my opinions to be mentioned, and that\nfar from the least important. In proportion as I moved out of the shadow\nof that liberalism which had hung over my course, my early devotion\ntowards the Fathers returned; and in the Long Vacation of 1828 I set\nabout to read them chronologically, beginning with St. Ignatius and St.\nJustin. About 1830 a proposal was made to me by Mr. Hugh Rose, who with\nMr. Lyall (afterwards Dean of Canterbury) was providing writers for a\nTheological Library, to furnish them with a History of the Principal\nCouncils. I accepted it, and at once set to work on the Council of\nNic\u00e6a. It was to launch myself on an ocean with currents innumerable;\nand I was drifted back first to the ante-Nicene history, and then to the\nChurch of Alexandria. The work at last appeared under the title of \"The\nArians of the Fourth Century;\" and of its 422 pages, the first 117\nconsisted of introductory matter, and the Council of Nic\u00e6a did not\nappear till the 254th, 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 the works of Bishop\nBull, which at this time I read, were my chief introduction to this\nprinciple. The course of reading, which I pursued in the composition of\nmy volume, was directly adapted to develope it in my mind. What\nprincipally attracted me in the ante-Nicene period was the great Church\nof Alexandria, the historical centre of teaching in those times. Of Rome\nfor some centuries comparatively little is known. The battle of Arianism\nwas first fought in Alexandria; Athanasius, the champion of the truth,\nwas Bishop of Alexandria; and in his writings he refers to the great\nreligious names of an earlier date, to Origen, Dionysius, and others,\nwho were the glory of its see, or of its school. The broad philosophy of\nClement and Origen carried me away; the philosophy, not the theological\ndoctrine; and I have drawn out some features of it in my volume, with\nthe zeal and freshness, but with the partiality, of a neophyte. Some\nportions of their teaching, magnificent in themselves, came like music\nto my inward ear, as if the response to ideas, which, with little\nexternal to encourage them, I had cherished so long. These were based on\nthe mystical or sacramental principle, and spoke of the various\nEconomies or Dispensations of the Eternal. I understood these passages\nto mean that the exterior world, physical and historical, was but the\nmanifestation to our senses of realities greater than itself. Nature was\na parable: Scripture was an allegory: pagan literature, philosophy, and\nmythology, properly understood, were but a preparation for the Gospel.\nThe Greek poets and sages were in a certain sense prophets; for\n\"thoughts beyond their thought to those high bards were given.\" There\nhad been a directly divine dispensation granted to the Jews; but there\nhad been in some sense a dispensation carried on in favour of the\nGentiles. He who had taken the seed of Jacob for His elect people had\nnot therefore cast the rest of mankind out of His sight. In the fulness\nof time both Judaism and Paganism had come to nought; the outward\nframework, which concealed yet suggested the Living Truth, had never\nbeen intended to last, and it was dissolving under the beams of the Sun\nof Justice which shone behind it and through it. The process of change\nhad been slow; it had been done not rashly, but by rule and measure, \"at\nsundry times and in divers manners,\" first one disclosure and then\nanother, till the whole evangelical doctrine 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 her\nhierarchical appointments, will remain, even to the end of the world,\nafter all but a symbol of those heavenly facts which fill eternity. Her\nmysteries are but the expressions in human language of truths to which\nthe human mind is unequal. It is evident how much there was in all this\nin correspondence with the thoughts which had attracted me when I was\nyoung, and with the doctrine which I have already associated with the\nAnalogy and the Christian Year.\n\nIt was, I suppose, 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 Scripture,\nbut as carrying on, as Scripture also implies, the Economy of the\nVisible World. I considered them as the real causes of motion, light,\nand life, and of those elementary principles of the physical universe,\nwhich, when offered in their developments to our senses, suggest to us\nthe notion of cause and effect, and of what are called the laws of\nnature. This doctrine I have drawn out in my Sermon for Michaelmas day,\nwritten in 1831. I say of the Angels, \"Every breath of air and ray of\nlight and heat, every beautiful prospect, is, as it were, the skirts of\ntheir garments, the waving of the robes of those whose faces see God.\"\nAgain, I ask what would be the thoughts of a man who, \"when examining a\nflower, or a herb, or a pebble, or a ray of light, which he treats as\nsomething so beneath him in the scale of existence, suddenly discovered\nthat he was in the presence of some powerful being who was hidden behind\nthe visible things he was inspecting,--who, though concealing his wise\nhand, was giving them their beauty, grace, and perfection, as being\nGod's instrument for the purpose,--nay, whose robe and ornaments those\nobjects were, which he was so eager to analyze?\" and I therefore remark\nthat \"we may say with grateful and simple hearts with the Three Holy\nChildren, 'O all ye works of the Lord, &c., &c., bless ye the Lord,\npraise Him, and magnify Him for ever.'\"\n\nAlso, besides the hosts of evil spirits, I considered there was a middle\nrace, [Greek: daimonia], neither in heaven, nor in hell; partially\nfallen, capricious, wayward; noble or crafty, benevolent or malicious,\nas the case might be. These beings gave a sort of inspiration or\nintelligence to races, nations, and classes of men. Hence the action of\nbodies politic and associations, which is often so different from that\nof the individuals who compose them. Hence the character and the\ninstinct of states and governments, of religious communities and\ncommunions. I thought these assemblages had their life in certain unseen\nPowers. My preference of the Personal to the Abstract would naturally\nlead me to this view. I thought it countenanced by the mention of \"the\nPrince of Persia\" in the Prophet Daniel; and I think I considered that\nit was of such intermediate beings that the Apocalypse spoke, in its\nnotice of \"the Angels of the Seven Churches.\"\n\nIn 1837 I made a further development of this doctrine. I said to an\nintimate and dear friend, Samuel Francis Wood, in a letter which came\ninto my hands on his death. \"I have an idea. The mass of the Fathers\n(Justin, Athenagoras, Iren\u00e6us, 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 the\ndaughters 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, &c., &c.... Take\nEngland with many high virtues, and yet a low Catholicism. It seems to\nme that John Bull is a spirit neither of heaven nor hell.... Has not the\nChristian Church, in its parts, surrendered itself to one or other of\nthese simulations of the truth?... How are we to avoid Scylla and\nCharybdis and go straight on to the very image of Christ?\" &c., &c.\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 or\nof any thing else: I am but giving a history of my opinions, and that,\nwith the view of showing that I have come by them through intelligible\nprocesses of thought and honest external means. The doctrine indeed of\nthe Economy has in some quarters been itself condemned as intrinsically\npernicious,--as if leading to lying and equivocation, when applied, as I\nhave applied it in my remarks upon it in my History of the Arians, to\nmatters of conduct. My answer to this imputation I postpone to the\nconcluding pages of my Volume.\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 held that\nit was unchristian for nations to cast off their governors, and, much\nmore, sovereigns who had the divine right of inheritance. Again, the\ngreat Reform Agitation was going on around me as I wrote. The Whigs had\ncome into power; Lord Grey had told the Bishops to set their house in\norder, and some of the Prelates had been insulted and threatened in the\nstreets of London. The vital question was, how were we to keep the\nChurch from being liberalized? there was such apathy on the subject in\nsome quarters, such imbecile alarm in others; the true principles of\nChurchmanship seemed so radically decayed, and there was such\ndistraction in the councils of the Clergy. Blomfield, the Bishop of\nLondon of the day, an active and open-hearted man, had been for years\nengaged in diluting the high orthodoxy of the Church by the introduction\nof members of the Evangelical body into places of influence and trust.\nHe had deeply offended men who agreed in opinion 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 count\nyou,\" he said to some of the gravest and most venerated persons of the\nold school. And the Evangelical party itself, with their late successes,\nseemed to have lost that simplicity and unworldliness which I admired so\nmuch in Milner and Scott. It was not that I did not venerate such men as\nRyder, the then Bishop of Lichfield, and others of similar sentiments,\nwho were not yet promoted out of the ranks of the Clergy, but I thought\nlittle of the Evangelicals as a class. I thought they played into the\nhands of the Liberals. With the Establishment thus divided and\nthreatened, thus ignorant of its true strength, I compared that fresh\nvigorous Power of which I was reading in the first centuries. In her\ntriumphant zeal on behalf of that Primeval Mystery, to which I had had\nso great a devotion from my youth, I recognized the movement of my\nSpiritual Mother. \"Incessu patuit Dea.\" The self-conquest of her\nAscetics, the patience of her Martyrs, the irresistible determination of\nher Bishops, the joyous swing of her advance, both exalted and abashed\nme. I said to myself, \"Look on this picture and on that;\" I felt\naffection for my own Church, but not tenderness; I felt dismay at her\nprospects, anger and scorn at her do-nothing perplexity. I thought that\nif Liberalism once got a footing within her, it was sure of the victory\nin the event. I saw that Reformation principles were powerless to rescue\nher. As to leaving her, the thought never crossed my imagination; still\nI ever kept before me that there was something greater than the\nEstablished Church, and that that was the Church Catholic and Apostolic,\nset up from the beginning, of which she was but the local presence and\nthe organ. She was nothing, unless she was this. She must be dealt with\nstrongly, or she would be lost. There was need of a second reformation.\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 end\nof 1833. I was easily persuaded to join Hurrell Froude and his Father,\nwho were going to the south of Europe for the health of the former.\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, as\nI was, definite Tutorial work, and the literary quiet and pleasant\nfriendships of the last six years, for foreign countries and an unknown\nfuture, I naturally was led to think that some inward changes, as well\nas some larger course of action, were coming upon me. At Whitchurch,\nwhile waiting for the down mail to Falmouth, I wrote the verses about my\nGuardian Angel, which begin with these words: \"Are these the tracks of\nsome unearthly Friend?\" and which go on to speak of \"the vision\" which\nhaunted me:--that vision is more or less brought out in the whole series\nof these compositions.\n\nI went to various coasts of the Mediterranean; parted with my friends at\nRome; went down for the second time to Sicily without companion, at the\nend of April; and got back to England by Palermo in the early part of\nJuly. The 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 dead;\nbut it was about the Fathers, and the Library of the great church. I\nknew the Abbate Santini, at Rome, who did no more than copy for me the\nGregorian tones. Froude and I made two calls upon Monsignore (now\nCardinal) Wiseman at the Collegio Inglese, shortly before we left Rome.\nOnce we heard him preach at a church in the Corso. I do not recollect\nbeing in a room with any other ecclesiastics, except a Priest at\nCastro-Giovanni in Sicily, who called on me when I was ill, and with\nwhom I wished to hold a controversy. As to Church Services, we attended\nthe Tenebr\u00e6, at the Sestine, for the sake of the Miserere; and that was\nall. My general feeling was, \"All, save the spirit of man, is divine.\" I\nsaw nothing but what was external; of the hidden life of Catholics I\nknew nothing. I was still more driven back into myself, and felt my\nisolation. England was in my thoughts solely, and the news from England\ncame rarely and imperfectly. The Bill for the Suppression of the Irish\nSees was in progress, and filled my mind. I had fierce thoughts against\nthe Liberals.\n\nIt was the success of the Liberal cause which fretted me inwardly. I\nbecame fierce against its instruments and its manifestations. A French\nvessel was at Algiers; I would not even look at the tricolour. On my\nreturn, though forced to stop twenty-four hours at Paris, I kept indoors\nthe whole time, and all that I saw of that beautiful city was what I saw\nfrom the Diligence. The Bishop of London had already sounded me as to my\nfilling one of the Whitehall preacherships, which he had just then put\non a new footing; but I was indignant at the line which he was taking,\nand from my Steamer I had sent home a letter declining the appointment\nby anticipation, should it be offered to me. At this time I was\nspecially annoyed with Dr. Arnold, though it did not last into later\nyears. Some one, I think, asked, in conversation at Rome, whether a\ncertain interpretation of Scripture was Christian? it was answered that\nDr. Arnold took it; I interposed, \"But is _he_ a Christian?\" The subject\nwent out of my head at once; when afterwards I was taxed with it, I\ncould say no more in explanation, than (what I believe was the fact)\nthat I must have had in mind some free views of Dr. Arnold about the Old\nTestament:--I thought I must have meant, \"Arnold answers for the\ninterpretation, but who is to answer for Arnold?\" It was at Rome, too,\nthat we began the Lyra Apostolica which appeared monthly in the British\nMagazine. The motto shows the feeling of both Froude and myself at the\ntime: we borrowed from M. Bunsen a Homer, and Froude chose the words in\nwhich Achilles, 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 which\nI had an immense liking, came forcibly to my mind. I began to think that\nI had a mission. There are sentences of my letters to my friends to this\neffect, if they are not destroyed. When we took leave of Monsignore\nWiseman, he had courteously expressed a wish that we might make a second\nvisit to Rome; I said with great gravity, \"We have a work to do in\nEngland.\" I went down at once to Sicily, and the presentiment grew\nstronger. I struck into the middle of the island, and fell ill of a\nfever at Leonforte. My servant thought that I was dying, and begged for\nmy last directions. I gave them, as he wished; but I said, \"I shall not\ndie.\" I repeated, \"I shall not die, for I have not sinned against light,\nI have not sinned against light.\" I never have been able quite to make\nout what I meant.\n\nI got to Castro-Giovanni, and was laid up there for nearly three weeks.\nTowards the end of May I left for Palermo, taking three days for the\njourney. Before starting from my inn in the morning of May 26th or 27th,\nI sat down on my bed, and began to sob violently. My servant, who had\nacted as my nurse, asked what ailed me. I could only answer him, \"I have\na work to do in England.\"\n\nI was aching to get home; yet for want of a vessel I was kept at Palermo\nfor three weeks. I began to visit the Churches, and they calmed my\nimpatience, though I did not attend any services. I knew nothing of the\nPresence of the Blessed Sacrament there. At last I got off in an orange\nboat, bound for Marseilles. Then it was that I wrote the lines, \"Lead,\nkindly light,\" which have since become well known. We were becalmed a\nwhole week in the Straits of Bonifacio. I was writing verses the whole\ntime of my passage. At length I got to Marseilles, and set off for\nEngland. The fatigue of travelling was too much for me, and I was laid\nup for several days at Lyons. At last I got off again, and did not stop\nnight or day, (except a compulsory delay at Paris,) till I reached\nEngland, and my mother's house. My brother had arrived from Persia only\na few hours before. This was on the Tuesday. The following Sunday, July\n14th, Mr. Keble preached the Assize Sermon in the University Pulpit. It\nwas published under the title of \"National Apostasy.\" I have ever\nconsidered and kept the day, as the start of the religious movement of\n1833.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nHISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS FROM 1833 TO 1839.\n\n\nIn spite of the foregoing pages, I have no romantic story to tell; but I\nhave written 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, so\nas to make them in keeping with the narrative which has gone before. I\nsoon relapsed into the every-day life which I had hitherto led; in all\nthings the same, except that a new object was given me. I had employed\nmyself in my own rooms in reading and writing, and in the care of a\nChurch, before I left England, and I returned to the same occupations\nwhen I was back again. And yet perhaps those first vehement feelings\nwhich carried me on, were necessary for the beginning of the Movement;\nand afterwards, when it was once begun, the special need of me was over.\n\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 zealous\nand able men had united their counsels, and were in correspondence with\neach other. The principal of these were Mr. Keble, Hurrell Froude, who\nhad reached home long before me, Mr. William Palmer of Dublin and\nWorcester College (not Mr. William Palmer of Magdalen, who is now a\nCatholic), Mr. Arthur Perceval, and Mr. Hugh Rose.\n\nTo mention Mr. Hugh Rose's name is to kindle in the minds of those who\nknew him a host of pleasant and affectionate remembrances. He was the\nman above all others fitted by his cast of mind and literary powers to\nmake a stand, if a stand could be made, against the calamity of the\ntimes. He was gifted with a high and large mind, and a true sensibility\nof what was great and beautiful; he wrote with warmth and energy; and he\nhad a cool head and cautious judgment. He spent his strength and\nshortened his life. Pro Ecclesia Dei, as he understood that sovereign\nidea. Some years earlier he had been the first to give warning, I think\nfrom the University Pulpit at Cambridge, of the perils to England which\nlay in the biblical and theological speculations of Germany. The Reform\nagitation followed, and the Whig Government came into power; and he\nanticipated in their distribution of Church patronage the authoritative\nintroduction of liberal opinions into the country. He feared that by the\nWhig party a door would be opened in England to the most grievous of\nheresies, which never could be closed again. In order under such grave\ncircumstances to unite Churchmen together, and to make a front against\nthe coming danger, he had in 1832 commenced the British Magazine, and in\nthe same year he came to Oxford in the summer term, in order to beat up\nfor writers for his publication; on that occasion I became known to him\nthrough Mr. Palmer. His reputation and position came in aid of his\nobvious fitness, in point of character and intellect, to become the\ncentre of an ecclesiastical movement, if such a movement were to depend\non the action of a party. His delicate health, his premature death,\nwould have frustrated the expectation, even though the new school of\nopinion had been more exactly thrown into the shape of a party, than in\nfact was the case. But he zealously backed up the first efforts of those\nwho were principals in it; and, when he went abroad to die, in 1838, he\nallowed me the solace of expressing my feelings of attachment and\ngratitude to him by addressing him, in the dedication of a volume of my\nSermons, as the man \"who, when hearts were failing, bade us stir up the\ngift that was in us, and betake ourselves to our true Mother.\"\n\nBut there were other reasons, besides Mr. Rose's state of health, which\nhindered those who so much admired him from availing themselves of his\nclose co-operation in the coming fight. United as both he and they were\nin the general scope of the Movement, they were in discordance with each\nother from the first in their estimate of the means to be adopted for\nattaining it. Mr. Rose had a position in the Church, a name, and serious\nresponsibilities; he had direct ecclesiastical superiors; he had\nintimate relations with his own University, and a large clerical\nconnexion through the country. Froude and I were nobodies; with no\ncharacters to lose, and no antecedents to fetter us. Rose could not go\na-head across country, as Froude had no scruples in doing. Froude was a\nbold rider, as on horseback, so also in his speculations. After a long\nconversation with him on the logical bearing of his principles, Mr. Rose\nsaid of 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 was\ncomparatively indifferent to the revolutionary action which would attend\non their application to a given state of things; whereas in the thoughts\nof Rose, as a practical man, existing facts had the precedence of every\nother idea, and the chief test of the soundness of a line of policy lay\nin the consideration whether it would work. This was one of the first\nquestions, which, as it seemed to me, on every occasion occurred to his\nmind. With Froude, Erastianism,--that is, the union (so he viewed it) of\nChurch and State,--was the parent, or if not the parent, the serviceable\nand sufficient tool, of liberalism. Till that union was snapped,\nChristian doctrine never could be safe; and, while he well knew how high\nand unselfish was the temper of Mr. Rose, yet he used to apply to him an\nepithet, reproachful in his own mouth;--Rose was a \"conservative.\" By\nbad luck, I brought out this word to Mr. Rose in a letter of my own,\nwhich I wrote to him in criticism of something he had inserted in his\nMagazine: I got a vehement rebuke for my pains, for though Rose pursued\na conservative line, he had as high a disdain, as Froude could have, of\na worldly ambition, 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 come\nof committees, nor are great ideas worked out through the post, even\nthough it had been the penny post. This principle deeply penetrated both\nFroude and myself from the first, and recommended to us the course which\nthings soon took spontaneously, and without set purpose of our own.\nUniversities are the natural centres of intellectual movements. How\ncould men act together, whatever was their zeal, unless they were united\nin a sort of individuality? Now, first, we had no unity of place. Mr.\nRose was in Suffolk, Mr. Perceval in Surrey, Mr. Keble in\nGloucestershire; Hurrell Froude had to go for his health to Barbadoes.\nMr. Palmer was indeed in Oxford; this was an important advantage, and\ntold well in the first months of the Movement;--but another condition,\nbesides that of place, was required.\n\nA far more essential unity was that of antecedents,--a common history,\ncommon memories, an intercourse of mind with mind in the past, and a\nprogress and increase in that intercourse in the present. Mr. Perceval,\nto be sure, was a pupil of Mr. Keble's; but Keble, Rose, and Palmer,\nrepresented distinct parties, or at least tempers, in the Establishment.\nMr. Palmer had many conditions of authority and influence. He was the\nonly really learned man among us. He understood theology as a science;\nhe was practised in the scholastic mode of controversial writing; and, I\nbelieve, was as well acquainted, as he was dissatisfied, with the\nCatholic schools. He was as decided in his religious views, as he was\ncautious and even subtle in their expression, and gentle in their\nenforcement. But he was deficient in depth; and besides, coming from a\ndistance, he never had really grown into an Oxford man, nor was he\ngenerally received as such; nor had he any insight into the force of\npersonal influence and congeniality of thought in carrying out a\nreligious theory,--a condition which Froude and I considered essential\nto any true success in the stand which had to be made against\nLiberalism. Mr. Palmer had a certain connexion, as it may be called, in\nthe Establishment, consisting of high Church dignitaries, Archdeacons,\nLondon Rectors, and the like, who belonged to what was commonly called\nthe high-and-dry school. They were far more opposed than even he was to\nthe irresponsible action of individuals. Of course their _beau id\u00e9al_ in\necclesiastical action was a board of safe, sound, sensible men. Mr.\nPalmer was their organ and representative; and he wished for a\nCommittee, an Association, with rules and meetings, to protect the\ninterests of the Church in its existing peril. He was in some measure\nsupported 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 great\npoint at the time with these good men in London,--some of them men of\nthe highest principle, and far from influenced by what we used to call\nErastianism,--was to put down the Tracts. I, as their editor, and mainly\ntheir author, was of course willing to give way. Keble and Froude\nadvocated their continuance strongly, and were angry with me for\nconsenting to stop them. Mr. Palmer shared the anxiety of his own\nfriends; and, kind as were his thoughts of us, he still not unnaturally\nfelt, for reasons of his own, some fidget and nervousness at the course\nwhich his Oriel friends were taking. Froude, for whom he had a real\nliking, took a high tone in his project of measures for dealing with\nbishops and clergy, which must have shocked and scandalized him\nconsiderably. As for me, there was matter enough in the early Tracts to\ngive him equal disgust; and doubtless I much tasked his generosity, when\nhe had to defend me, whether against the London dignitaries or the\ncountry clergy. Oriel, from the time of Dr. Copleston to Dr. Hampden,\nhad had a name far and wide for liberality of thought; it had received a\nformal recognition from the Edinburgh Review, if my memory serves me\ntruly, as the school of speculative philosophy in England; and on one\noccasion, in 1833, when I presented myself, with some of the first\npapers of the Movement, to a country clergyman in Northamptonshire, he\npaused awhile, and then, eyeing me with significance, asked \"Whether\nWhately was at the bottom 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 published.\n\"As to the Tracts,\" I said to him (I quote my own words from his\nPamphlet), \"every one has his own taste. You object to some things,\nanother to others. If we altered to please every one, the effect would\nbe spoiled. They were not intended as symbols _\u00e8 cathedr\u00e2_ but as the\nexpression of individual minds; and individuals, feeling strongly, while\non the one hand, they are incidentally faulty in mode or language, are\nstill peculiarly effective. No great work was done by a system; whereas\nsystems rise out of individual exertions. Luther was an individual. The\nvery faults of an individual excite attention; he loses, but his cause\n(if good and he powerful-minded) gains. This is the way of things; we\npromote truth by a self-sacrifice.\"\n\nThe visit which I made to the Northamptonshire Rector was only one of a\nseries of similar expedients, which I adopted during the year 1833. I\ncalled 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 think\nthat much came of such attempts, nor were they quite in my way. Also I\nwrote various letters to clergymen, which fared not much better, except\nthat they advertised the fact, that a rally in favour of the Church was\ncommencing. I did not care whether my visits were made to high Church or\nlow Church; I wished to make a strong pull in union with all who were\nopposed to the principles of liberalism, whoever they might be. Giving\nmy name to the Editor, I commenced a series of letters in the Record\nNewspaper: they ran to a considerable length; and were borne by him with\ngreat courtesy and patience. The heading given to them was, \"Church\nReform.\" The first was on the revival of Church Discipline; the second,\non its Scripture proof; the third, on the application of the doctrine;\nthe fourth was an answer to objections; the fifth was on the benefits of\ndiscipline. And then the series was abruptly brought to a termination. I\nhad said what I really felt, and what was also in keeping with the\nstrong teaching of the Tracts, but I suppose the Editor discovered in me\nsome divergence from his own line of thought; for at length he sent a\nvery civil letter, apologizing for the non-appearance of my sixth\ncommunication, on the ground that it contained an attack upon\n\"Temperance Societies,\" about which he did not wish a controversy in his\ncolumns. He added, however, his serious regret at the theological views\nof the Tracts. I had subscribed a small sum in 1828 towards the first\nstart 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 to\nthe historical mode of its success:--they were the fruit of that\nexuberant and joyous energy with which I had returned from abroad, and\nwhich I never had before or since. I had the exultation of health\nrestored, and home regained. While I was at Palermo and thought of the\nbreadth of the Mediterranean, and the wearisome journey across France, I\ncould not imagine how I was ever to get to England; but now I was amid\nfamiliar scenes and faces once more. And my health and strength came\nback to me with such a rebound, that some friends at Oxford, on seeing\nme, did not well know that it was I, and hesitated before they spoke to\nme. And I had the consciousness that I was employed in that work which I\nhad been dreaming about, and which I felt to be so momentous and\ninspiring. I had a supreme confidence in our cause; we were upholding\nthat primitive Christianity which was delivered for all time by the\nearly teachers of the Church, and which was registered and attested in\nthe Anglican formularies and by the Anglican divines. That ancient\nreligion had well nigh faded away out of the land, through the political\nchanges of the last 150 years, and it must be restored. It would be in\nfact a second Reformation:--a better reformation, for it would be a\nreturn not to the sixteenth century, but to the seventeenth. No time was\nto be lost, for the Whigs had come to do their worst, and the rescue\nmight come too late. Bishopricks were already in course of suppression;\nChurch property was in course of confiscation; Sees would soon be\nreceiving unsuitable occupants. We knew enough to begin preaching upon,\nand there was no one else to preach. I felt as on board a vessel, which\nfirst gets under weigh, and then the deck is cleared out, and luggage\nand live stock stowed away into their proper receptacles.\n\nNor was it only that I had confidence in our cause, both in itself, and\nin its polemical force, but also, on the other hand, I despised every\nrival system of doctrine and its arguments too. As to the high Church\nand the low Church, I thought that the one had not much more of a\nlogical basis than the other; while I had a thorough contempt for the\ncontroversial position of the latter. I had a real respect for the\ncharacter of many of the advocates of each party, but that did not give\ncogency to their arguments; and I thought, on the contrary, that the\nApostolical form of doctrine was essential and imperative, and its\ngrounds of evidence impregnable. Owing to this supreme confidence, it\ncame to pass at that time, that there was a double aspect in my bearing\ntowards others, which it is necessary for me to enlarge upon. My\nbehaviour had a mixture in it both of fierceness and of sport; and on\nthis account, I dare say, it gave offence to many; nor am I here\ndefending it.\n\nI wished men to agree with me, and I walked with them step by step, as\nfar as they would go; this I did sincerely; but if they would stop, I\ndid not much care about it, but walked on, with some satisfaction that I\nhad brought them so far. I liked to make them preach the truth without\nknowing it, and encouraged them to do so. It was a satisfaction to me\nthat the Record had allowed me to say so much in its columns, without\nremonstrance. I was amused to hear of one of the Bishops, who, on\nreading an early Tract on the Apostolical Succession, could not make up\nhis mind whether he held the doctrine or not. I was not distressed at\nthe wonder or anger of dull and self-conceited men, at propositions\nwhich they did not understand. When a correspondent, in good faith,\nwrote to a newspaper, to say that the \"Sacrifice of the Holy Eucharist,\"\nspoken of in the Tract, was a false print for \"Sacrament,\" I thought the\nmistake too pleasant to be corrected before I was asked about it. I was\nnot unwilling to draw an opponent on step by step, by virtue of his own\nopinions, to the brink of some intellectual absurdity, and to leave him\nto get back as he could. I was not unwilling to play with a man, who\nasked me impertinent questions. I think I had in my mouth the words of\nthe Wise man, \"Answer a fool according to his folly,\" especially if he\nwas prying or spiteful. I was reckless of the gossip which was\ncirculated about me; and, when I might easily have set it right, did not\ndeign to do so. Also I used irony in conversation, when\nmatter-of-fact-men would not see what I meant.\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 which\nI remember to such conduct, but which I consider was clear of it\nnevertheless, was in the case of Tract 15. The matter of this Tract was\nfurnished to me by a friend, to whom I had applied for assistance, but\nwho did not wish to be mixed up with the publication. He gave it me,\nthat I might throw it into shape, and I took his arguments as they\nstood. In the chief portion of the Tract I fully agreed; for instance,\nas to what it says about the Council of Trent; but there were arguments,\nor some argument, in it which I did not follow; I do not recollect what\nit was. Froude, I think, was disgusted with the whole Tract, and accused\nme of _economy_ in publishing it. It is principally through Mr. Froude's\nRemains that this word has got into our language. I think, I defended\nmyself with arguments such as these:--that, as every one knew, the\nTracts were written by various persons who agreed together in their\ndoctrine, but not always in the arguments by which it was to be proved;\nthat we must be tolerant of difference of opinion among ourselves; that\nthe author 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 own\nname or authority, nor was asked for my personal belief, but only acted\ninstrumentally, as one might translate a friend's book into a foreign\nlanguage. I account these to be good arguments; nevertheless I feel also\nthat such practices admit of easy abuse and are consequently dangerous;\nbut then, again, I feel also this,--that if all such mistakes were to be\nseverely visited, not many men in public life would be left with a\ncharacter for honour and honesty.\n\nThis absolute confidence in my cause, which led me to the negligence or\nwantonness which I have been instancing, also laid me open, not\nunfairly, to the opposite charge of fierceness in certain steps which I\ntook, or words which I published. In the Lyra Apostolica, I have said\nthat before learning to love, we must \"learn to hate;\" though I had\nexplained my words by adding \"hatred of sin.\" In one of my first Sermons\nI said, \"I do not shrink from uttering my firm conviction that it would\nbe a gain to the country were it vastly more superstitious, more\nbigoted, more gloomy, more fierce in its religion than at present it\nshows itself to be.\" I added, of course, that it would be an absurdity\nto suppose such tempers of mind desirable in themselves. The corrector\nof the press bore these strong epithets till he got to \"more fierce,\"\nand then he put in the margin a _query_. In the very first page of the\nfirst Tract, I said of the Bishops, that, \"black event though it would\nbe for the country, yet we could not wish them a more blessed\ntermination of their course, than the spoiling of their goods and\nmartyrdom.\" In consequence of a passage in my work upon the Arian\nHistory, a Northern dignitary wrote to accuse me of wishing to\nre-establish the blood and torture of the Inquisition. Contrasting\nheretics and heresiarchs, I had said, \"The latter should meet with no\nmercy: he assumes the office of the Tempter; and, so far forth as his\nerror goes, must be dealt with by the competent authority, as if he were\nembodied evil. To spare him is a false and dangerous pity. It is to\nendanger the souls of thousands, and it is uncharitable towards\nhimself.\" I cannot deny that this is a very fierce passage; but Arius\nwas banished, not burned; and it is only fair to myself to say that\nneither at this, nor any other time of my life, not even when I was\nfiercest, could I have even cut off a Puritan's ears, and I think the\nsight of a Spanish _auto-da-f\u00e8_ would have been the death of me. Again,\nwhen one of my friends, of liberal and evangelical opinions, wrote to\nexpostulate with me on the course I was taking, I said that we would\nride over him and his, as Othniel prevailed over Chushan-rishathaim,\nking of Mesopotamia. Again, I would have no dealings with my brother,\nand I put my conduct upon a syllogism. I said, \"St. Paul bids us avoid\nthose who cause divisions; you cause divisions: therefore I must avoid\nyou.\" I dissuaded a lady from attending the marriage of a sister who had\nseceded from the Anglican Church. No wonder that Blanco White, who had\nknown me under such different circumstances, now hearing the general\ncourse that I was taking, was amazed at the change which he recognized\nin me. He speaks bitterly and unfairly of me in his letters\ncontemporaneously with the first years of the Movement; but in 1839, on\nlooking back, he uses terms of me, which it would be hardly modest in me\nto quote, were it not that what he says of me in praise occurs in the\nmidst of blame. He says: \"In this party [the anti-Peel, in 1829] I\nfound, to my great surprise, my dear friend, Mr. Newman of Oriel. As he\nhad 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 those\nvery strange productions, entitled, Tracts for the Times. While stating\nthese public facts, my heart feels a pang at the recollection of the\naffectionate and mutual friendship between that excellent man and\nmyself; a friendship, which his principles of orthodoxy could not allow\nhim to continue in regard to one, whom he now regards as inevitably\ndoomed to eternal perdition. Such is the venomous character of\northodoxy. What mischief must it create in a bad heart and narrow mind,\nwhen it can work so effectually for evil, in one of the most benevolent\nof bosoms, and one of the ablest of minds, in the amiable, the\nintellectual, the refined John Henry Newman!\" (Vol. iii. p. 131.) He\nadds that I would have nothing to do with him, a circumstance which I do\nnot recollect, and very much doubt.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nI have spoken of my firm confidence in my position; and now let me state\nmore 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; by\nliberalism I mean the anti-dogmatic principle and its developments. This\nwas the first point on which I was certain. Here I make a remark:\npersistence in a given belief is no sufficient test of its truth: but\ndeparture from it is at least a slur upon the man who has felt so\ncertain about it. In proportion, then, as I had in 1832 a strong\npersuasion of the truth of opinions which I have since given up, so far\na sort of guilt attaches to me, not only for that vain confidence, but\nfor all the various proceedings which were the consequence of it. But\nunder this first head I have the satisfaction of feeling that I have\nnothing to retract, and nothing to repent of. The main principle of the\nmovement is as dear to me now, as it ever was. I have changed in many\nthings: in this I have not. From the age of fifteen, dogma has been the\nfundamental principle of my religion: I know no other religion; I cannot\nenter into the idea of any other sort of religion; religion, as a mere\nsentiment, is to me a dream and a mockery. As well can there be filial\nlove without the fact of a father, as devotion without the fact of a\nSupreme Being. 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) to\nobscure them. Such was the fundamental principle of the Movement of\n1833.\n\n2. Secondly, I was confident in the truth of a certain definite\nreligious teaching, based upon this foundation of dogma; viz. that there\nwas a visible Church, with sacraments and rites which are the channels\nof invisible grace. I thought that this was the doctrine of Scripture,\nof the early Church, and of the Anglican Church. Here again, I have not\nchanged in opinion; I am as certain now on this point as I was in 1833,\nand have never ceased to be certain. In 1834 and the following years I\nput this ecclesiastical doctrine on a broader basis, after reading Laud,\nBramhall, and Stillingfleet and other Anglican divines on the one hand,\nand after prosecuting the study of the Fathers on the other; but the\ndoctrine of 1833 was strengthened in me, not changed. When I began the\nTracts for the Times I rested the main doctrine, of which I am speaking,\nupon Scripture, on the Anglican Prayer Book, and on St. Ignatius's\nEpistles. (1) As to the existence of a visible Church, I especially\nargued out the point from Scripture, in Tract 11, viz. from the Acts of\nthe Apostles and the Epistles. (2) As to the Sacraments and Sacramental\nrites, I stood on the Prayer Book. I appealed to the Ordination Service,\nin which the Bishop says, \"Receive the Holy Ghost;\" to the Visitation\nService, which teaches confession and absolution; to the Baptismal\nService, in which the Priest speaks of the child after baptism as\nregenerate; to the Catechism, in which Sacramental Communion is\nreceiving \"verily and indeed the Body and Blood of Christ;\" to the\nCommination Service, in which we are told to do \"works of penance;\" to\nthe Collects, Epistles, and Gospels, to the calendar and rubricks,\nportions of the Prayer Book, wherein we find the festivals of the\nApostles, notice of certain other Saints, and days of fasting and\nabstinence.\n\n(3.) And 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 with the\nBishop Invisible, and so the question is not with flesh, but with God,\nwho knows the secret heart.\" I wished to act on this principle to the\nletter, and I may say with confidence that I never consciously\ntransgressed it. I loved to act as feeling myself in my Bishop's sight,\nas if it were the sight of God. It was one of my special supports and\nsafeguards against myself; I could not go very wrong while I had reason\nto believe that I was in no respect displeasing him. It was not a mere\nformal obedience to rule that I put before me, but I desired to please\nhim personally, as I considered him set over me by the Divine Hand. I\nwas strict in observing my clerical engagements, not only because they\n_were_ engagements, but because I considered myself simply as the\nservant and instrument of my Bishop. I did not care much for the Bench\nof Bishops, 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 _jure\necclesiastico_, but what to me was _jure divino_ was the voice of my\nBishop in his own person. My own Bishop was my Pope; I knew no other;\nthe successor of the Apostles, the Vicar of Christ. This was but a\npractical exhibition of the Anglican theory of Church Government, as I\nhad already drawn it out myself, after various Anglican Divines. This\ncontinued all through my course; when at length, in 1845, I wrote to\nBishop Wiseman, in whose Vicariate I found myself, to announce my\nconversion, I could find nothing better to say to him than that I would\nobey the Pope as I had obeyed my own Bishop in the Anglican Church. My\nduty to him was my point of honour; his disapprobation was the one thing\nwhich I could 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 whose\nmemory I have a special affection. Dr. Bagot--a man of noble mind, and\nas kind-hearted and as considerate as he was noble. He ever sympathized\nwith me in my trials which followed; it was my own fault, that I was not\nbrought into more familiar personal relations with him, than it was my\nhappiness 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 repeat that here again I have no retractation to\nannounce 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, so\nagain I am now as firm in my belief of a visible Church, of the\nauthority of Bishops, of the grace of the sacraments, of the religious\nworth of works of penance, as I was in 1833. I have added Articles to my\nCreed; but the old ones, which I then held with a divine faith, remain.\n\n3. But now, as to the third point on which I stood in 1833, and which I\nhave 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 was\nyoung, as I have said already, and after I was grown up, I thought the\nPope to be Antichrist. At Christmas 1824-5 I preached a sermon to that\neffect. But in 1827 I accepted eagerly the stanza in the Christian Year,\nwhich many people thought too charitable, \"Speak _gently_ of thy\nsister's fall.\" From the time that I knew Froude I got less and less\nbitter on the subject. I spoke (successively, but I cannot tell in what\norder or at what dates) of the Roman Church as being bound up with \"the\n_cause_ of Antichrist,\" as being _one_ of the \"_many_ antichrists\"\nforetold by St. John, as being influenced by \"the _spirit_ of\nAntichrist,\" and as having something \"very Anti-christian\" or\n\"unchristian\" about her. From my boyhood and in 1824 I considered, after\nProtestant authorities, that St. Gregory I. about A.D. 600 was the first\nPope that was Antichrist, though, in spite of this, he was also a great\nand holy man; but in 1832-3 I thought the Church of Rome was bound up\nwith the cause of Antichrist by the Council of Trent. When it was that\nin my deliberate judgment I gave up the notion altogether in any shape,\nthat some special reproach was attached to her name, I cannot tell; but\nI had a shrinking from renouncing it, even when my reason so ordered me,\nfrom a sort of conscience or prejudice, I think up to 1843. Moreover, at\nleast during 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 our\nLady, the more impatient was I at the Roman practices, as if those\nglorified creations of God must be gravely shocked, if pain could be\ntheirs, at the undue veneration of which they were the objects.\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 in\nopposition to him, he observes; \"I think people are injudicious who talk\nagainst the Roman Catholics for worshipping Saints, and honouring the\nVirgin and images, &c. These things may perhaps be idolatrous; I cannot\nmake up my mind about it; but to my mind it is the Carnival that is real\npractical idolatry, as it is written, 'the people sat down to eat and\ndrink, and rose up to play.'\" The Carnival, I observe in passing, is, in\nfact, one of those very excesses, to which, for at least three\ncenturies, religious Catholics have ever opposed themselves, as we see\nin the life of St. Philip, to say nothing of the present day; but this\nwe did not then know. Moreover, from Froude I learned to admire the\ngreat medieval Pontiffs; and, of course, when I had come to consider the\nCouncil of Trent to be the turning-point of the history of Christian\nRome, I found myself as free, as I was rejoiced, to speak in their\npraise. Then, when I was abroad, the sight of so many great places,\nvenerable shrines, and noble churches, much impressed my imagination.\nAnd my heart was touched also. Making an expedition on foot across some\nwild country in Sicily, at six in the morning, I came upon a small\nchurch; I heard voices, and I looked in. It was crowded, and the\ncongregation was singing. Of course it was the mass, though I did not\nknow it at the time. And, in my weary days at Palermo, I was not\nungrateful for the comfort which I had received in frequenting the\nchurches; nor did I ever forget it. Then, again, her zealous maintenance\nof the doctrine and the rule of celibacy, which I recognized as\nApostolic, and her faithful agreement with Antiquity in so many other\npoints which were dear to me, was an argument as well as a plea in\nfavour of the great Church of Rome. Thus I learned to have tender\nfeelings towards her; but still my reason was not affected at all. My\njudgment was against her, when viewed as an institution, as truly as it\never had been.\n\nThis conflict between reason and affection I expressed in one of the\nearly Tracts, published July, 1834. \"Considering the high gifts and the\nstrong claims of the Church of Rome and its dependencies on our\nadmiration, reverence, love, and gratitude; how could we withstand it,\nas we do, how could we refrain from being melted into tenderness, and\nrushing into communion with it, but for the words of Truth itself, which\nbid us prefer It to the whole world? 'He that loveth father or mother\nmore than Me, is not worthy of me.' How could 'we learn to be severe,\nand execute judgment,' but for the warning of Moses against even a\ndivinely-gifted teacher, who should preach new gods; and the anathema of\nSt. Paul even against Angels and Apostles, who should bring in a new\ndoctrine?\"--_Records_, No. 24. My feeling was something like that of a\nman, who is obliged in a court of justice to bear witness against a\nfriend; or like my own now, when I have said, and shall say, so many\nthings on which I had rather be silent.\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 Rome.\nBut besides this, it was a duty, because the prescription of such a\nprotest was a living principle of my own Church, as expressed not simply\nin a _catena_, but by a _consensus_ of her divines, and by the voice of\nher people. Moreover, such a protest was necessary as an integral\nportion of her controversial basis; for I adopted the argument of\nBernard Gilpin, that Protestants \"were _not able_ to give any _firm and\nsolid_ reason of the separation besides this, to wit, that the Pope is\nAntichrist.\" But while I thus thought such a protest to be based upon\ntruth, and to be a religious duty, and a rule of Anglicanism, and a\nnecessity of the case, I did not at all like the work. Hurrell Froude\nattacked me for doing it; and, besides, I felt that my language had a\nvulgar and rhetorical look about it. I believed, and really measured, my\nwords, when I used them; but I knew that I had a temptation, on the\nother hand, to say against Rome as much as ever I could, in order to\nprotect myself against the charge of 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 I\nconsidered them to be a safeguard and an assurance that no harm could\never arise from the freest exposition of what I used to call Anglican\nprinciples. All the world was astounded at what Froude and I were\nsaying: men said that it was sheer Popery. I answered, \"True, we seem to\nbe making straight for it; but go on awhile, and you will come to a deep\nchasm across the path, which makes real approximation impossible.\" And I\nurged in addition, that many Anglican divines had been accused of\nPopery, yet had died in their Anglicanism;--now, the ecclesiastical\nprinciples which I professed, they had professed also; and the judgment\nagainst Rome which they had formed, I had formed also. Whatever\ndeficiencies then had to be supplied in the existing Anglican system,\nand however boldly I might point them out, any how that system would not\nin the process be brought nearer to the special creed of Rome, and might\nbe mended in spite of her. In that very agreement of the two forms of\nfaith, close as it might seem, would really be found, on examination,\nthe elements and principles of an essential discordance.\n\nIt was with this absolute persuasion on my mind that I fancied that\nthere could be no rashness in giving to the world in fullest measure the\nteaching and the writings of the Fathers. I thought that the Church of\nEngland was substantially founded upon them. I did not know all that the\nFathers had said, but I felt that, even when their tenets happened to\ndiffer from the Anglican, no harm could come of reporting them. I said\nout what I was clear they had said; I spoke vaguely and imperfectly, of\nwhat I thought they said, or what some of them had said. Any how, no\nharm could come of bending the crooked stick the other way, in the\nprocess of straightening it; it was impossible to break it. If there was\nany thing in the Fathers of a startling character, this would be only\nfor a time; it would admit of explanation, or it might suggest something\nprofitable to Anglicans; it could not lead to Rome. I express this view\nof the matter 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, in the judgment of the present day, of some of their\nprinciples and opinions, I bid the reader go forward hopefully, and not\nindulge his criticism till he knows more about them, than he will learn\nat the outset. \"Since the evil,\" I say, \"is in the nature of the case\nitself, we can do no more than have patience, and recommend patience to\nothers, and with the racer in the Tragedy, look forward steadily and\nhopefully to the _event_, [Greek: t\u00f4 telei pistin pher\u00f4n], when, as we\ntrust, all that is inharmonious and anomalous in the details, will at\nlength be practically smoothed.\"\n\nSuch was the position, such the defences, such the tactics, by which I\nthought that it was both incumbent on us, and possible for us, to meet\nthat onset of Liberal principles, of which we were all in immediate\nanticipation, whether in the Church or in the University. And during the\nfirst year of the Tracts, the attack upon the University began. In\nNovember, 1834, was sent to me by Dr. Hampden the second edition of his\nPamphlet, entitled, \"Observations on Religious Dissent, with particular\nreference to the use of religious tests in the University.\" In this\nPamphlet it was maintained, that \"Religion is distinct from Theological\nOpinion,\" pp. 1. 28. 30, &c.; that it is but a common prejudice to\nidentify theological propositions methodically deduced and stated, with\nthe simple religion of Christ, p. 1; that under Theological Opinion were\nto be placed the Trinitarian doctrine, p. 27, and the Unitarian, p. 19;\nthat a dogma was a theological opinion formally insisted on, pp. 20, 21;\nthat speculation always left an opening for improvement, p. 22; that the\nChurch of England was not dogmatic in its spirit, though the wording of\nits formularies might 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 the\nopportunity it affords of expressing to you my very sincere and deep\nregret that it has been published. Such an opportunity I could not let\nslip without being unfaithful to my own serious thoughts on the subject.\n\n\"While I respect the tone of piety which the Pamphlet displays, I dare\nnot trust myself to put on paper my feelings about the principles\ncontained in it; tending as they do, in my opinion, altogether to make\nshipwreck of Christian faith. I also lament, that, by its appearance,\nthe first step has been taken towards interrupting that peace and mutual\ngood understanding which has prevailed so long in this place, and which,\nif once seriously disturbed, will be succeeded by dissensions the more\nintractable, because justified in the minds of those who resist\ninnovation by a feeling of imperative duty.\"\n\nSince that time Phaeton has got into the chariot of the sun; we, alas!\ncan only look on, and watch him down the steep of heaven. Meanwhile, the\nlands, which he is passing over, suffer from his driving.\n\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, as\nit was, for so long a time, had not a great change taken place in the\ncircumstances of that counter-movement which had already started with\nthe view of resisting it. For myself, I was not the person to take the\nlead of a party; I never was, from first to last, more than a leading\nauthor of a school; nor did I ever wish to be anything else. This is my\nown account of the matter; and I say it, neither as intending to disown\nthe responsibility of what was done, or as if ungrateful to those who at\nthat time made more of me than I deserved, and did more for my sake and\nat my bidding than I realized myself. I am giving my history from my own\npoint of sight, and it is as follows:--I had lived for ten years among\nmy personal friends; the greater part of the time, I had been\ninfluenced, not influencing; and at no time have I acted on others,\nwithout their acting upon me. As is the custom of a University, I had\nlived with my private, nay, with some of my public, pupils, and with the\njunior fellows of my College, without form or distance, on a footing of\nequality. Thus it was through friends, younger, for the most part, than\nmyself, that my principles were spreading. They heard what I said in\nconversation, and told it to others. Under-graduates in due time took\ntheir degree, and became private tutors themselves. In their new\n_status_, they in turn preached the opinions, with which they had\nalready become acquainted. Others went down to the country, and became\ncurates of parishes. Then they had down from London parcels of the\nTracts, and other publications. They placed them in the shops of local\nbooksellers, got them into newspapers, introduced them to clerical\nmeetings, and converted more or less their Rectors and their brother\ncurates. Thus the Movement, viewed with relation to myself, was but a\nfloating opinion; it was not a power. It never would have been a power,\nif it had 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 a\npeople raise, but couldst not rule.\" At the time that he wrote to me, I\nhad special impediments in the way of such an exercise of power; but at\nno time could I exercise over others that authority, which under the\ncircumstances was imperatively required. My great principle ever was,\nLive and let live. I never had the staidness or dignity necessary for a\nleader. To the last I never recognized the hold I had over young men. Of\nlate years I have read and heard that they even imitated me in various\nways. I was quite unconscious of it, and I think my immediate friends\nknew too well how disgusted I should be at such proceedings, to have the\nheart to tell me. I felt great impatience at our being called a party,\nand would not allow that we were such. I had a lounging, free-and-easy\nway of carrying things on. I exercised no sufficient censorship upon the\nTracts. I did not confine them to the writings of such persons as agreed\nin all things with myself; and, as to my own Tracts, I printed on them a\nnotice to the effect, that any one who pleased, might make what use he\nwould of them, and reprint them with alterations if he chose, under the\nconviction that their main scope could not be damaged by such a process.\nIt was the same with me afterwards, as regards other publications. For\ntwo years I furnished a certain number of sheets for the British Critic\nfrom myself and my friends, while a gentleman was editor, a man of\nsplendid talent, who, however, was scarcely an acquaintance of mine, and\nhad no sympathy with the Tracts. When I was Editor myself, from 1838 to\n1841, in my very first number I suffered to appear a critique\nunfavorable to my work on Justification, which had been published a few\nmonths before, from a feeling of propriety, because I had put the book\ninto the hands of the writer who so handled it. Afterwards I suffered an\narticle against the Jesuits to appear in it, of which I did not like the\ntone. When I had to provide a curate for my new church at Littlemore, I\nengaged a friend, by no fault of his, who, before he had entered into\nhis charge, preached a sermon, either in depreciation of baptismal\nregeneration, or of Dr. Pusey's view of it. I showed a similar easiness\nas to the Editors who helped me in the separate volumes of Fleury's\nChurch History; they were able, learned, and excellent men, but their\nafter-history has shown, how little my choice of them was influenced by\nany notion I could have had of any intimate agreement of opinion between\nthem and myself. I shall have to make the same remark in its place\nconcerning the Lives of the English Saints, which subsequently appeared.\nAll this may seem inconsistent with what I have said of my fierceness. I\nam not bound to account for it; but there have been men before me,\nfierce in act, yet tolerant and moderate in their reasonings; at least,\nso I read history. However, such was the case, and such its effect upon\nthe Tracts. These at first starting were short, hasty, and some of them\nineffective; and at the end of the year, when collected into a volume,\nthey had a slovenly appearance.\n\nIt was under these circumstances, that Dr. Pusey joined us. I had known\nhim well since 1827-8, and had felt for him an enthusiastic admiration,\nI used to call him [Greek: ho megas]. His great learning, his immense\ndiligence, his scholarlike mind, his simple devotion to the cause of\nreligion, overcame me; and great of course was my joy, when in the last\ndays of 1833 he showed a disposition to make common cause with us. His\nTract on Fasting appeared as one of the series with the date of December\n21. He was not, however, I think, fully associated in the Movement till\n1835 and 1836, when he published his Tract on Baptism, and started the\nLibrary of the Fathers. He at once gave to us a position and a name.\nWithout him we should have had little chance, especially at the early\ndate of 1834, of making any serious resistance to the Liberal\naggression. But Dr. Pusey was a Professor and Canon of Christ Church; he\nhad a vast influence in consequence of his deep religious seriousness,\nthe munificence of his charities, his Professorship, his family\nconnexions, and his easy relations with University authorities. He was\nto 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, which\nlies in the living presence of a faithful and loyal affectionateness.\nThere was henceforth a man who could be the head and centre of the\nzealous people in every part of the country, who were adopting the new\nopinions; and not only so, but there was one who furnished the Movement\nwith a front to the world, and gained for it a recognition from other\nparties in the University. In 1829, Mr. Froude, or Mr. Robert\nWilberforce, or Mr. Newman were but individuals; and, when they ranged\nthemselves in the contest of that year on the side of Sir Robert Inglis,\nmen on either side only asked with surprise how they got there, and\nattached no significancy to the fact; but Dr. Pusey was, to use the\ncommon expression, a host in himself; he was able to give a name, a\nform, and a personality, to what was without him a sort of mob; and when\nvarious parties had to meet together in order to resist the liberal acts\nof the Government, we of the Movement took our place by right among\nthem.\n\nSuch was the benefit which he conferred on the Movement externally; nor\nwere the internal advantages 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 apt\nto say that he was once nearer to the Catholic Church than he is now; I\npray God that he may be one day far nearer to the Catholic Church than\nhe was then; for I believe that, in his reason and judgment, all the\ntime that I knew him, he never was near to it at all. When I became a\nCatholic, I was often asked, \"What of Dr. Pusey?\"; when I said that I\ndid not see symptoms of his doing as I had done, I was sometimes thought\nuncharitable. If confidence in his position is, (as it is,) a first\nessential in the leader of a party, this Dr. Pusey possessed\npre-eminently. The most remarkable instance of this, was his statement,\nin one of his subsequent defences of the Movement, when moreover it had\nadvanced a considerable way in the direction of Rome, that among its\nmore hopeful peculiarities was its \"stationariness.\" He made it in good\nfaith; 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 through\nhim that the character of the Tracts was changed. When he gave to us his\nTract on Fasting, he put his initials to it. In 1835 he published his\nelaborate Treatise on Baptism, which was followed by other Tracts from\ndifferent authors, if not of equal learning, yet of equal power and\nappositeness. The Catenas of Anglican divines, projected by me, which\noccur in the Series were executed with a like aim at greater accuracy\nand method. In 1836 he advertised his great project for a Translation of\nthe Fathers:--but I must return to myself. I am not writing the history\neither of Dr. Pusey or of the Movement; but it is a pleasure to me to\nhave been able to introduce here reminiscences of the place which he\nheld in it, which have so direct a bearing on myself, that they are no\ndigression from my narrative.\n\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 of\nthe 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; one\nin which was brought out with precision the relation in which we stood\nto the Church of Rome. We could not move a step in comfort, till this\nwas done. It was of absolute necessity and a plain duty from the first,\nto provide as soon as possible a large statement, which would encourage\nand reassure our friends, and repel the attacks of our opponents. A cry\nwas heard on all sides of us, that the Tracts and the writings of the\nFathers would lead us to become Catholics, before we were aware of it.\nThis was loudly expressed by members of the Evangelical party, who in\n1836 had joined us in making a protest in Convocation against a\nmemorable appointment of the Prime Minister. These clergymen even then\navowed their desire, that the next time they were brought up to Oxford\nto give a vote, it might be in order to put down the Popery of the\nMovement. There was another reason still, and quite as important.\nMonsignore Wiseman, with the acuteness and zeal which might be expected\nfrom that great Prelate, had anticipated what was coming, had returned\nto England by 1836, had delivered Lectures in London on the doctrines of\nCatholicism, and created an impression through the country, shared in by\nourselves, that we had for our opponents in controversy, not only our\nbrethren, but our hereditary foes. These were the circumstances, which\nled to my publication of \"The Prophetical office of the Church viewed\nrelatively to Romanism and Popular Protestantism.\"\n\nThis work employed me for three years, from the beginning of 1834 to the\nend of 1836, and was published in 1837. It was composed, after a careful\nconsideration and comparison of the principal Anglican divines of the\n17th century. 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 rewritten for publication.\n\nIt attempts to trace out the rudimental lines on which Christian faith\nand teaching proceed, and to use them as means of determining the\nrelation of the Roman and Anglican systems to each other. In this way it\nshows that to confuse the two together is impossible, and that the\nAnglican can be as little said to tend to the Roman, as the Roman to the\nAnglican. The spirit of the Volume is not so gentle to the Church of\nRome, as Tract 71 published the year before; on the contrary, it is very\nfierce; and this I attribute to the circumstance that the Volume is\ntheological and didactic, whereas the Tract, being controversial,\nassumes as little and grants as much as possible on the points in\ndispute, and insists on points of agreement as well as of difference. A\nfurther and more direct reason is, that in my Volume I deal with\n\"Romanism\" (as I call it), not so much in its formal decrees and in the\nsubstance of its creed, as in its traditional action and its authorized\nteaching as represented by its prominent writers;--whereas the Tract is\nwritten as if discussing the differences of the Churches with a view to\na reconciliation between them. There is a further reason too, which I\nwill 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 way.\nIt was published, I think, under the title, \"A Treatise on the Christian\nChurch.\" As was to be expected from the author, it was a most learned,\nmost careful composition; and in its form, I should say, polemical. So\nhappily at least did he follow the logical method of the Roman Schools,\nthat Father Perrone in his Treatise on dogmatic theology, recognized in\nhim a combatant of the true cast, and saluted him as a foe worthy of\nbeing vanquished. Other soldiers in that field he seems to have thought\nlittle better than the _Lanzknechts_ of the middle ages, and, I dare\nsay, with very good reason. When I knew that excellent and kind-hearted\nman at Rome at a later time, he allowed me to put him to ample penance\nfor those light thoughts of me, which he had once had, by encroaching on\nhis valuable time with my theological questions. As to Mr. Palmer's\nbook, it was one which no Anglican could write but himself,--in no\nsense, if I recollect aright, a tentative work. The ground of\ncontroversy was cut into squares, and then every objection had its\nanswer. This is the proper method to adopt in teaching authoritatively\nyoung men; and the work in fact was intended for students in theology.\nMy own book, on the other hand, was of a directly tentative and\nempirical character. I wished to build up an Anglican theology out of\nthe stores which already lay cut and hewn upon the ground, the past toil\nof great divines. To do this could not be the work of one man; much\nless, could it be at once received into Anglican theology, however well\nit was done. This I fully recognized; and, while I trusted that my\nstatements of doctrine would turn out to be true and important, still I\nwrote, to use the common phrase, \"under correction.\"\n\nThere was another motive for my publishing, of a personal nature, which\nI think I should mention. I felt then, and all along felt, that there\nwas an intellectual cowardice in not finding a basis in reason for my\nbelief, and a moral cowardice in not avowing that basis. I should have\nfelt myself less than a man, if I did not bring it out, whatever it was.\nThis is one principal reason why I wrote and published the \"Prophetical\nOffice.\" It was from the same feeling, that in the spring of 1836, at a\nmeeting of residents on the subject of the struggle then proceeding\nagainst a Whig appointment, when 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 to\ncommit ourselves too. This again was a main reason for the publication\nof Tract 90. Alas! it was my portion for whole years to remain without\nany satisfactory basis for my religious profession, in a state of moral\nsickness, neither able to acquiesce in Anglicanism, nor able to go to\nRome. But I bore it, till in course of time my way was made clear to me.\nIf here it be objected to me, that as time went on, I often in my\nwritings hinted at things which I did not fully bring out, I submit for\nconsideration whether this occurred except when I was in great\ndifficulties, how to speak, or how to be silent, with due regard for the\nposition of mind or the feelings of others. However, I may have an\nopportunity to say more on this subject. But to return to the\n\"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\nrecognized 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 fully\nimbued with Ancient Truth, and as well versed in the writings of the\nFathers, as they were intellectually gifted. This is God's great mercy\nindeed, for which we must ever be thankful. Primitive doctrine has been\nexplored for us in every direction, and the original principles of the\nGospel and the Church patiently brought to light. But one thing is still\nwanting: our champions and teachers have lived in stormy times:\npolitical and other influences have acted upon them variously in their\nday, and have since obstructed a careful consolidation of their\njudgments. We have a vast inheritance, but no inventory of our\ntreasures. All is given us in profusion; it remains for us to catalogue,\nsort, distribute, select, harmonize, and complete. We have more than we\nknow how to use; stores of learning, but little that is precise and\nserviceable; Catholic truth and individual opinion, first principles and\nthe guesses of genius, all mingled in the same works, and requiring to\nbe discriminated. We meet with truths overstated or misdirected, matters\nof detail variously taken, facts incompletely proved or applied, and\nrules inconsistently urged or discordantly interpreted. Such indeed is\nthe state of every deep philosophy in its first stages, and therefore of\ntheological knowledge. What we need at present for our Church's\nwell-being, is not invention, nor originality, nor sagacity, nor even\nlearning in our divines, at least in the first place, though all gifts\nof God are in a measure needed, and never can be unseasonable when used\nreligiously, but we need peculiarly a sound judgment, patient thought,\ndiscrimination, a comprehensive mind, an abstinence from all private\nfancies and caprices and personal tastes,--in a word, Divine Wisdom.\"\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\nrepute. 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;\" viz. it did not denote the profession\nof any particular religion at all, and was compatible with infidelity. A\n_Via Media_ was but a receding from extremes,--therefore it needed to be\ndrawn out into a definite shape and character: before it could have\nclaims on our respect, it must first be shown to be one, intelligible,\nand consistent. This was the first condition of any reasonable treatise\non the _Via Media_. The second condition, and necessary too, was not in\nmy power. I could only hope that it would one day be fulfilled. Even if\nthe _Via Media_ were ever so positive a religious system, it was not as\nyet objective and real; it had no original any where of which it was the\nrepresentative. It was at present a paper religion. This I confess in my\nIntroduction; I say, \"Protestantism and Popery are real religions ...\nbut the _Via Media_, viewed as an integral system, has scarcely had\nexistence except on paper.\" I grant the objection, though I endeavour to\nlessen it:--\"It still remains to be tried, whether what is called\nAnglo-Catholicism, the religion of Andrewes, Laud, Hammond, Butler, and\nWilson, is capable of being professed, acted on, and maintained on a\nlarge sphere of action, or whether it be a mere modification or\ntransition-state of either Romanism or popular Protestantism.\" I trusted\nthat 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 of\nthe three fundamental points on which it was based, as I have described\nthem above, dogma, the sacramental system, and anti-Romanism.\n\nOther investigations which had to be followed up were of a still more\ntentative character. The basis of the _Via Media_, consisting of the\nthree elementary points, which I have just mentioned, was clear enough;\nbut, not only had the house itself to be built upon them, but it had\nalso to be furnished, and it is not wonderful if, after building it,\nboth I and others erred in detail in determining what its furniture\nshould be, what was consistent with the style of building, and what was\nin itself desirable. I will explain what I mean.\n\nI had brought out in the \"Prophetical Office\" in what the Roman and the\nAnglican systems differed from each other, but less distinctly in what\nthey agreed. I had indeed enumerated the Fundamentals, common to both,\nin the following passage:--\"In both systems the same Creeds are\nacknowledged. Besides other points in common, we both hold, that certain\ndoctrines are necessary to be believed for salvation; we both believe in\nthe doctrines of the Trinity, Incarnation, and Atonement; in original\nsin; in the necessity of regeneration; in the supernatural grace of the\nSacraments; in the Apostolical succession; in the obligation of faith\nand obedience, and in the eternity of future punishment,\"--pp. 55, 56.\nSo much I had said, but I had not said enough. This enumeration implied\na great many more points of agreement than were found in those very\nArticles which were fundamental. If the two Churches were thus the same\nin fundamentals, they were also one and the same in such plain\nconsequences as were contained in those fundamentals and in such natural\nobservances as outwardly represented them. It was an Anglican principle\nthat \"the abuse of a thing doth not take away the lawful use of it;\" and\nan Anglican Canon in 1603 had declared that the English Church had no\npurpose to forsake all that was held in the Churches of Italy, France,\nand Spain, and reverenced those ceremonies and particular points which\nwere Apostolic. Excepting then such exceptional matters, as are implied\nin this avowal, whether they were many or few, all these Churches were\nevidently to be considered as one with the Anglican. The Catholic Church\nin all lands had been one from the first for many centuries; then,\nvarious portions had followed their own way to the injury, but not to\nthe destruction, whether of truth or of charity. These portions or\nbranches were mainly three:--the Greek, Latin, and Anglican. Each of\nthese inherited the early undivided Church _in solido_ as its own\npossession. Each branch was identical with that early undivided Church,\nand in the unity of that Church it had unity with the other branches.\nThe three branches agreed together in _all but_ their later accidental\nerrors. Some branches had retained in detail portions of Apostolical\ntruth and usage, which the others had not; and these portions might be\nand should be appropriated again by the others which had let them slip.\nThus, the middle age belonged to the Anglican Church, and much more did\nthe middle age of England. The Church of the 12th century was the Church\nof the 19th. Dr. Howley sat in the seat of St. Thomas the Martyr; Oxford\nwas a medieval University. Saving our engagements to Prayer Book and\nArticles, we might breathe and live and act and speak, as in the\natmosphere and climate of Henry III.'s day, or the Confessor's, or of\nAlfred's. And we ought to be indulgent to all that Rome taught now, as\nto what Rome taught then, saving our protest. We might boldly welcome,\neven what we did not ourselves think right to adopt. And, when we were\nobliged on the contrary boldly to denounce, we should do so with pain,\nnot with exultation. By very reason of our protest, which we had made,\nand made _ex animo_, we could agree to differ. What the members of the\nBible Society did on the basis of Scripture, we could do on the basis of\nthe Church; Trinitarian and Unitarian were further apart than Roman and\nAnglican. Thus we had a real wish to co-operate with Rome in all lawful\nthings, if she would let us, and if the rules of our own Church let us;\nand we thought there was no better way towards the restoration of\ndoctrinal purity and unity. And we thought that Rome was not committed\nby her formal decrees to all that she actually taught: and again, if her\ndisputants had been unfair to us, or her rulers tyrannical, we bore in\nmind that on our side too there had been rancour and slander in our\ncontroversial attacks upon her, and violence in our political measures.\nAs to ourselves being direct instruments in improving her belief or\npractice, I used to say, \"Look at home; let us first, (or at least let\nus the while,) supply our own shortcomings, before we attempt to be\nphysicians to any one else.\" This is very much the spirit of Tract 71,\nto which I referred just now. I am well aware that there is a paragraph\ninconsistent with it in the Prospectus to the Library of the Fathers;\nbut I do not consider myself responsible for it. Indeed, I have no\nintention whatever of implying that Dr. Pusey concurred in the\necclesiastical theory, which I have been now drawing out; nor that I\ntook it up myself except by degrees in the course of ten years. It was\nnecessarily the growth of time. In fact, hardly any two persons, who\ntook part in the Movement, agreed in their view of the limit to which\nour general principles might religiously be carried.\n\nAnd now I have said enough on what I consider to have been the general\nobjects of the various works, which I wrote, edited, or prompted in the\nyears which I am reviewing. I wanted to bring out in a substantive form\na living Church of England, in a position proper to herself, and founded\non distinct principles; as far as paper could do it, as far as earnestly\npreaching it and influencing others towards it, could tend to make it a\nfact;--a living Church, made of flesh and blood, with voice, complexion,\nand motion and action, and a will of its own. I believe I had no private\nmotive, and no personal aim. Nor did I ask for more than \"a fair stage\nand no favour,\" nor expect the work would be accomplished in my days;\nbut I thought that enough would be secured to continue it in the future,\nunder, perhaps, more hopeful circumstances and prospects than the\npresent.\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 Lutheran\ndictum that justification by faith only was the cardinal doctrine of\nChristianity. I considered that this doctrine was either a paradox or a\ntruism,--a paradox in Luther's mouth, a truism in Melanchthon's. I\nthought that the Anglican Church followed Melanchthon, and that in\nconsequence between Rome and Anglicanism, between high Church and low\nChurch, there was no real intellectual difference on the point. I wished\nto fill up a ditch, the work of man. In this Volume again, I express my\ndesire to build up a system of theology out of the Anglican divines, and\nimply that my dissertation was a tentative Inquiry. I speak in the\nPreface of \"offering suggestions towards a work, which must be uppermost\nin the mind of every true son of the English Church at this day,--the\nconsolidation of a theological system, which, built upon those\nformularies, to which all clergymen are bound, may tend to inform,\npersuade, and absorb into itself religious minds, which hitherto have\nfancied, that, on the peculiar Protestant questions, they were seriously\nopposed to each other.\"--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 commencement\nof a grave and necessary work, viz. an inquiry into the ultimate basis\nof religious faith, prior to the distinction into Creeds.\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 which I\nhad been so long attached: it is the denial of the existence of space\nexcept 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, being written\nwith the aim of introducing the religious sentiments, views, and customs\nof 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 the\nAdvertisement; because it presented a sort of photograph of\necclesiastical history without any comment upon it. In the event, that\nsimple representation of the early centuries had a good deal to do with\nunsettling me in my Anglicanism; but how little I could anticipate this,\nwill be seen in the fact that the publication of Fleury was a favourite\nscheme with Mr. Rose. He proposed it to me twice, between the years 1834\nand 1837; 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, from 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 to\nthe world by my old friend Mr. Bowden, being a Life of Pope Gregory VII.\nI need scarcely recall to those who have read it, the power and the\nliveliness of the narrative. This composition was the author's\nrelaxation, on evenings and in his summer vacations, from his ordinary\nengagements in London. It had been suggested to him originally by me, at\nthe instance of Hurrell Froude.\n\nThe Series of the Lives of the English Saints was projected at a later\nperiod, under circumstances which I shall have in the sequel to\ndescribe. Those beautiful compositions have nothing in them, as far as I\nrecollect, simply inconsistent with the general objects which I have\nbeen assigning to my labours in these years, though the immediate\noccasion which led to them, and the tone in which they were written, had\nlittle that was congenial with Anglicanism.\n\nAt a comparatively early date I drew up the Tract on the Roman Breviary.\nIt frightened my own friends on its first appearance; and several years\nafterwards, when younger men began to translate for publication the four\nvolumes _in extenso_, they were dissuaded from doing so by advice to\nwhich from a sense of duty they listened. It was an apparent accident,\nwhich introduced me to the knowledge of that most wonderful and most\nattractive monument of the devotion of saints. On Hurrell Froude's\ndeath, in 1836, I was asked to select one of his books as a keepsake. I\nselected Butler's Analogy; finding that it had been already chosen, I\nlooked with some perplexity along the shelves as they stood before me,\nwhen an intimate friend at my elbow said, \"Take that.\" It was the\nBreviary which Hurrell had had with him at Barbadoes. Accordingly I took\nit, studied it, wrote my Tract from it, and have it on my table in\nconstant 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 venerated\nlong-loved friend, together with whom I edited a work which, more\nperhaps than any other, caused disturbance and annoyance in the Anglican\nworld,--Froude's Remains; yet, however judgments might run as to the\nprudence of publishing it, I never heard any one impute to Mr. Keble the\nvery shadow of dishonesty or treachery towards his Church in so acting.\n\nThe annotated Translation of the Treatises of St. Athanasius was of\ncourse in no sense of a tentative character; it belongs to another order\nof thought. 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 it for\nthree years, from July 1838 to July 1841. My writers belonged to various\nschools, some to none at all. The subjects are various,--classical,\nacademical, political, critical, and artistic, as well as theological,\nand upon the Movement none are to be found which do not keep quite clear\nof advocating the cause of Rome.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSo I went on for years up to 1841. It was, in a human point of view, the\nhappiest 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 did\nnot suppose that such sunshine would last, though I knew not what would\nbe its termination. It was the time of plenty, and, during its seven\nyears, I tried to lay up as much as I could for the dearth which was to\nfollow it. We prospered and spread. I have spoken of the doings of these\nyears, since I was a Catholic, in a passage, part of which I will here\nquote:\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 alarm\nto her rulers and friends. Its originators would have found it difficult\nto say what they aimed at of a practical kind: rather, they put forth\nviews and principles for their own sake, because they were true, as if\nthey were obliged to say them; and, as they might be themselves\nsurprised at their earnestness in uttering them, they had as great cause\nto be surprised at the success which attended their propagation. And, in\nfact, they could only say that those doctrines were in the air; that to\nassert was to prove, and that to explain was to persuade; and that the\nMovement in which they were taking part was the birth of a crisis rather\nthan of a place. In a very few years a school of opinion was formed,\nfixed in its principles, indefinite and progressive in their range; and\nit extended itself into every part of the country. If we inquire what\nthe world thought of it, we have still more to raise our wonder; for,\nnot to mention the excitement it caused in England, the Movement and its\nparty-names were known to the police of Italy and to the back-woodmen of\nAmerica. And so it proceeded, getting stronger and stronger every year,\ntill it came into collision with the Nation, and that Church of the\nNation, which it began by professing especially to serve.\"\n\nThe greater its success, the nearer was that collision at hand. The\nfirst threatenings of what was coming were heard in 1838. At that time,\nmy Bishop in a Charge made some light animadversions, but they _were_\nanimadversions, on the Tracts for the Times. At once I offered to stop\nthem. What took place on the occasion I prefer to state in the words, in\nwhich I related it in a Pamphlet addressed to him in a later year, when\nthe blow actually came down upon me.\n\n\"In your Lordship's Charge for 1838,\" I said, \"an allusion was made to\nthe Tracts for the Times. Some opponents of the Tracts said that you\ntreated them with undue indulgence.... I wrote to the Archdeacon on the\nsubject, submitting the Tracts entirely to your Lordship's disposal.\nWhat I thought about your Charge will appear from the words I then used\nto him. I said, 'A Bishop's lightest word _ex cathedr\u00e2_ is heavy. His\njudgment on a book cannot be light. It is a rare occurrence.' And I\noffered to withdraw any of the Tracts over which I had control, if I\nwere informed which were those to which your Lordship had objections. I\nafterwards wrote to your Lordship to this effect, that 'I trusted I\nmight say sincerely, that I should feel a more lively pleasure in\nknowing that I was submitting myself to your Lordship's expressed\njudgment in a matter of that kind, than I could have even in the widest\ncirculation of the volumes in question.' Your Lordship did not think it\nnecessary to proceed to such a measure, but I felt, and always have\nfelt, that, if ever you determined on it, I was 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       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFrom the time that I had entered upon the duties of Public Tutor at my\nCollege, when my doctrinal views were very different from what they were\nin 1841, I had meditated a comment upon the Articles. Then, when the\nMovement was in its swing, friends had said to me, \"What will you make\nof the Articles?\" but I did not share the apprehension which their\nquestion implied. Whether, as time went on, I should have been forced,\nby the necessities of the original theory of the Movement, to put on\npaper the speculations which I had about them, I am not able to\nconjecture. The actual cause of my doing so, in the beginning of 1841,\nwas the restlessness, actual and prospective, of those who neither liked\nthe _Via Media_, nor my strong judgment against Rome. I had been\nenjoined, I think by my Bishop, to keep these men straight, and I wished\nso to do: but their tangible difficulty was subscription to the\nArticles; and thus the question of the Articles came before me. It was\nthrown in our teeth; \"How can you manage to sign the Articles? they are\ndirectly against Rome.\" \"Against Rome?\" I made answer, \"What do you mean\nby 'Rome?'\" and then I proceeded to make distinctions, of which I shall\nnow give an account.\n\nBy \"Roman doctrine\" might be meant one of three things: 1, the _Catholic\nteaching_ of the early centuries; or 2, the _formal dogmas of Rome_ as\ncontained in the later Councils, especially the Council of Trent, and as\ncondensed in the Creed of Pope Pius IV.; 3, the _actual popular beliefs\nand usages_ sanctioned by Rome in the countries in communion with it,\nover and above the dogmas; and these I called \"dominant errors.\" Now\nProtestants commonly thought that in all three senses, \"Roman doctrine\"\nwas condemned in the Articles: I thought that the _Catholic teaching_\nwas not condemned; that the _dominant errors_ were; and as to the\n_formal dogmas_, that some were, some were not, and that the line had to\nbe drawn between them. Thus, 1. The use of Prayers for the dead was a\nCatholic doctrine,--not condemned in the Articles; 2. The prison of\nPurgatory was a Roman dogma,--which was condemned in them; but the\ninfallibility of Ecumenical Councils was a Roman dogma,--not condemned;\nand 3. The fire of Purgatory was an authorized and popular error, not a\ndogma,--which was condemned.\n\nFurther, I considered that the difficulties, felt by the persons whom I\nhave mentioned, mainly lay in their mistaking, 1, Catholic teaching,\nwhich was not condemned in the Articles, for Roman dogma which was\ncondemned; and 2, Roman dogma, which was not condemned in the Articles,\nfor dominant error which was. If they went further than this, I had\nnothing more to say to them.\n\nA further motive which I had for my attempt, was the desire to ascertain\nthe ultimate points of contrariety between the Roman and Anglican\ncreeds, and to make them as few as possible. I thought that each creed\nwas obscured and misrepresented by a dominant circumambient \"Popery\" and\n\"Protestantism.\"\n\nThe main thesis then of my Essay was this:--the Articles do not oppose\nCatholic teaching; they but partially oppose Roman dogma; they for the\nmost part oppose the dominant errors of Rome. And the problem was, as I\nhave said, to draw the line as to what they allowed and what they\ncondemned.\n\nSuch being the object which I had in view, what were my prospects of\nwidening and of defining their meaning? The prospect was encouraging;\nthere was no doubt at all of the elasticity of the Articles: to take a\npalmary instance, the seventeenth was assumed by one party to be\nLutheran, by another Calvinistic, though the two interpretations were\ncontradictory of each other; why then should not other Articles be drawn\nup with a vagueness of an equally intense character? I wanted to\nascertain what was the limit of that elasticity in the direction of\nRoman dogma. But next, I had a way of inquiry of my own, which I state\nwithout defending. I instanced it afterwards in my Essay on Doctrinal\nDevelopment. That work, I believe, I have not read since I published it,\nand I do not doubt at all I have made many mistakes in it;--partly, from\nmy ignorance of the details of doctrine, as the Church of Rome holds\nthem, but partly from my impatience to clear as large a range for the\n_principle_ of doctrinal Development (waiving the question of historical\n_fact_) as was consistent with the strict Apostolicity and identity of\nthe Catholic Creed. In like manner, as regards the 39 Articles, my\nmethod of inquiry was to leap _in medias res_. I wished to institute an\ninquiry how far, in critical fairness, the text _could_ be opened; I was\naiming far more at ascertaining what a man who subscribed it might hold\nthan what he must, so that my conclusions were negative rather than\npositive. It was but a first essay. And I made it with the full\nrecognition and consciousness, which I had already expressed in my\nProphetical Office, as regards the _Via Media_, that I was making only\n\"a first approximation to the required solution;\"--\"a series of\nillustrations supplying hints for the removal\" of a difficulty, and with\nfull acknowledgment \"that in minor points, whether in question of fact\nor of judgment, there was room for difference or error of opinion,\" and\nthat I \"should not be ashamed to own a mistake, if it were proved\nagainst me, nor reluctant to bear the just blame of it.\"--Proph. Off. p.\n31.\n\nI will add, I was embarrassed in consequence of my wish to go as far as\nwas possible in interpreting the Articles in the direction of Roman\ndogma, without disclosing what I was doing to the parties whose doubts I\nwas meeting; who, if they understood at once the full extent of the\nlicence which the Articles admitted, might be thereby encouraged to\nproceed still further than at present they found in themselves any call\nto go.\n\n1. But in the way of such an attempt comes the prompt objection that the\nArticles were actually drawn up against \"Popery,\" and therefore it was\ntranscendently absurd and dishonest to suppose that Popery, in any\nshape,--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 of \"Popery\" at the\ndate of the Reformation. And what was that political principle, and how\ncould it best be suppressed in England? What was the great question in\nthe days of Henry and Elizabeth? The _Supremacy_;--now, was I saying one\nsingle word in favour of the Supremacy of the Holy See, in favour 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 had\nshe a conscience against the Mass? The Supremacy of the Pope was the\nessence of the \"Popery\" to which, at the time of the composition of the\nArticles, the Supreme Head or Governor of the English Church was so\nviolently hostile.\n\n2. But again I said this:--let \"Popery\" mean what it would in the mouths\nof the compilers of the Articles, let it even, for argument's sake,\ninclude the doctrines of that Tridentine Council, which was not yet over\nwhen the Articles were drawn up, and against which they could not be\nsimply directed, yet, consider, what was the object of the Government in\ntheir imposition? merely to get rid of \"Popery?\" No; it had the further\nobject of gaining the \"Papists.\" What then was the best way to induce\nreluctant or wavering minds, and these, I supposed, were the majority,\nto give in their adhesion to the new symbol? how had the Arians drawn up\ntheir Creeds? was it not on the principle of using vague ambiguous\nlanguage, which to the subscribers would seem to bear a Catholic sense,\nbut which, when worked out on the long run, would prove to be heterodox?\nAccordingly, there was great antecedent probability, that, fierce as the\nArticles might look at first sight, their bark would prove worse than\ntheir bite. I say antecedent probability, for to what extent that\nsurmise might 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 the\nArticles, in the very act of doing so, had avowed, or rather in one of\nthose very Articles themselves had imposed on subscribers, a number of\nthose very \"Papistical\" doctrines, which they were now thought to deny,\nas part and parcel of that very Protestantism, which they were now\nthought to consider divine? and this was the fact, and I showed it in my\nEssay.\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 recognized as godly and wholesome, and\nconcurrence in that recognition 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 the\ninfallible and undeceivable word of God.\n\n3. That the Primitive Church, next to the Apostles' time, and, as they\nimply, 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 Church.\n\n6. That there are Six Councils which are allowed and received by all\nmen.\n\n7. Again, they speak of a certain truth, and say that it is declared by\nGod's word, the sentences of the ancient doctors, and judgment of the\nPrimitive Church.\n\n8. Of the learned and holy Bishops and doctors of the Church of the\nfirst eight centuries being of great authority and credit with the\npeople.\n\n9. Of the declaration of Christ and His Apostles and all the rest of the\nHoly Fathers.\n\n10. Of the authority both of 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\n\"ancient Catholic Fathers and doctors, &c.\"\n\n12. They declare that, not only the holy Apostles and disciples of\nChrist, but the godly Fathers also, before and since Christ, were endued\nwithout 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, the\nfood of immortality, the healthful grace.\n\n14. That the Lord's Blessed Body and Blood are received under the form\nof 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 of thy God ought to be touched with the\nmind.\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,\" though not \"such as\" they.\n\n20. That the souls of the Saints are reigning in joy and in heaven with\nGod.\n\n21. That alms-deeds purge the soul from the infection and filthy spots\nof sin, and are a precious medicine, an inestimable jewel.\n\n22. That mercifulness wipes out and washes away sins, as salves and\nremedies 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, then\nEmperor, not without a cause indeed, but very justly.\n\nPutting altogether aside the question how far these separate theses came\nunder the matter to which subscription was to be made, it was quite\nplain, that in the minds of the men who wrote the Homilies, and who thus\nincorporated them into the Anglican system of doctrine, there was no\nsuch nice discrimination between the Catholic and the Protestant faith,\nno such clear recognition of formal Protestant principles and tenets, no\nsuch accurate definition of \"Roman doctrine,\" as is received at the\npresent day:--hence great probability accrued to my presentiment, that\nthe Articles were tolerant, not only of what I called \"Catholic\nteaching,\" but of much that 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, nor\nits Canons promulgated at the date when the Articles were drawn up[5],\nso that those Articles must be aiming at something else? What was that\nsomething else? The Homilies tell us: the Homilies are the best comment\nupon the Articles. Let us turn to the Homilies, and we shall find from\nfirst to last that, not only is not the Catholic teaching of the first\ncenturies, but neither again are the dogmas of Rome, the objects of the\nprotest of the compilers of the Articles, but the dominant errors, the\npopular corruptions, authorized or suffered by the high name of Rome.\nThe eloquent declamation of the Homilies finds its matter almost\nexclusively in the dominant errors. As to Catholic teaching, nay as to\nRoman dogma, of such theology those Homilies, as I have shown, contained\nno small portion themselves.\n\n[5] The Pope's Confirmation of the Council, by which its Canons became\n_de fide_, and his Bull _super confirmatione_ by which they were\npromulgated to the world, are dated January 26, 1564. The Articles are\ndated 1562.\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 reasonably\nconsidered the authority _imponens_ to be the Convocation of 1571; but\nhere again, it would be found that the very Convocation, which received\nand confirmed the 39 Articles, also enjoined by Canon that \"preachers\nshould be _careful_, that they should _never_ teach aught in a sermon,\nto be religiously held and believed by the people, except that which is\nagreeable to the doctrine of the Old and New Testament, and _which the\nCatholic Fathers and ancient Bishops have collected_ from that very\ndoctrine.\" Here, let it be observed, an appeal is made by the\nConvocation _imponens_ to the very same ancient authorities, as had been\nmentioned with such profound veneration by the writers of the Homilies\nand the Articles, and thus, if the Homilies contained views of doctrine\nwhich now would be called Roman, there seemed to me to be an extreme\nprobability that the Convocation of 1571 also countenanced and received,\nor at least did not reject, those doctrines.\n\n6. And further, when at length I came actually to look into the text of\nthe Articles, I saw in many cases a patent justification of all that I\nhad surmised as to their vagueness and indecisiveness, and that, not\nonly on questions which lay between Lutherans, Calvinists, and\nZuinglians, but on Catholic questions also; and I have noticed them in\nmy Tract. In the conclusion of my Tract I observe: The Articles are\n\"evidently framed on the principle of leaving open large questions on\nwhich the controversy hinges. They state broadly extreme truths, and are\nsilent about their adjustment. For instance, they say that all necessary\nfaith must be proved from Scripture; but do not say _who_ is to prove\nit. They say, that the Church has authority in controversies; they do\nnot say _what_ authority. They say that it may enforce nothing beyond\nScripture, but do not say _where_ the remedy lies when it does. They say\nthat works _before_ grace _and_ justification are worthless and worse,\nand that works _after_ grace _and_ justification are acceptable, but\nthey do not speak at all of works _with_ God's aid _before_\njustification. They say that men are lawfully called and sent to\nminister and preach, who are chosen and called by men who have public\nauthority _given_ them in the Congregation; but they do not add _by\nwhom_ the authority is to be given. They say that Councils called by\n_princes_ may err; they do not determine whether Councils called in the\nname of Christ may err.\"\n\nSuch were the considerations which weighed with me in my inquiry how far\nthe 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 that\nI have no need or intention at this day to maintain every particular\ninterpretation which I suggested in the course of my Tract, nor indeed\nhad I then. Whether it was prudent or not, whether it was sensible or\nnot, any how I attempted only a first essay of a necessary work, an\nessay which, as I was quite prepared to find, would require revision and\nmodification by means of the lights which I should gain from the\ncriticism of others. I should have gladly withdrawn any statement, which\ncould be proved to me to be erroneous; I considered my work to be faulty\nand open to objection in the same sense in which I now consider my\nAnglican interpretations of Scripture to be erroneous; but in no other\nsense. I am surprised that men do not apply to the interpreters of\nScripture generally the hard names which they apply to the author of\nTract 90. He held a large system of theology, and applied it to the\nArticles: Episcopalians, or Lutherans, or Presbyterians, or Unitarians,\nhold a large system of theology and apply it to Scripture. Every\ntheology has its difficulties; Protestants hold justification by faith\nonly, though there is no text in St. Paul which enunciates it, and\nthough St. 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 or\nin respect of ... the sabbath days.\" Every creed has texts in its\nfavour, and again texts which run counter to it: and this is generally\nconfessed. And this is what I felt keenly:--how had I done worse in\nTract 90 than Anglicans, Wesleyans, and Calvinists did daily in their\nSermons and their publications? how had I done worse, than the\nEvangelical party in their _ex animo_ reception of the Services for\nBaptism and Visitation of the Sick[6]? Why was I to be dishonest and\nthey immaculate? There was an occasion on which our Lord gave an answer,\nwhich seemed to be appropriate to my own case, when the tumult broke out\nagainst my Tract:--\"He that is without sin among you, let him first cast\na stone at him.\" I could have fancied that a sense of their own\ndifficulties of interpretation would have persuaded the great party I\nhave mentioned to some prudence, or at least moderation, in opposing a\nteacher of an opposite school. But I suppose their alarm and their anger\novercame their sense of justice.\n\n[6] For instance, let candid men consider the form of Absolution\ncontained in that Prayer Book, of which all clergymen, Evangelical and\nLiberal as well as high Church, and (I think) all persons in University\noffice declare that \"it containeth _nothing contrary to the Word of\nGod_.\"\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 any\npassage in the Articles.\n\n\"Our Lord Jesus Christ, who hath left _power_ to His Church to absolve\nall sinners who truly repent and believe in Him, of His great mercy\nforgive thee thine offences; and by _His authority committed to me, I\nabsolve thee from all thy sins_, in the Name of the Father, and of the\nSon, 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 absolvo,\nab omni vinculo excommunicationis et interdicti, in quantum possum et tu\nindiges. Deinde ego te absolvo \u00e0 peccatis tuis, in nomine Patris et\nFilii et Spirit\u00fbs Sancti. Amen.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn the sudden storm of indignation with which the Tract was received\nthroughout the country on its appearance, I recognize much of real\nreligious feeling, much of honest and true principle, much of\nstraightforward ignorant common sense. In Oxford there was genuine\nfeeling too; but there had been a smouldering, stern, energetic\nanimosity, not at all unnatural, partly rational, against its author. A\nfalse step had been made; now was the time for action. I am told that,\neven before the publication of the Tract, rumours of its contents had\ngot into the hostile camp in an exaggerated form; and not a moment was\nlost in proceeding to action, when I was actually fallen into the hands\nof the Philistines. 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 me.\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 any thing henceforth to good effect, when\nI had been posted up by the marshal on the buttery-hatch of every\nCollege of my University, after the manner of discommoned pastry-cooks,\nand when in every part of the country and every class of society,\nthrough every organ and opportunity of opinion, in newspapers, in\nperiodicals, at meetings, in pulpits, at dinner-tables, in coffee-rooms,\nin railway carriages, I was denounced as a traitor who had laid his\ntrain and was detected in the very act of firing it against the\ntime-honoured Establishment. There were indeed men, besides my own\nimmediate friends, men of name and position, who gallantly took my part,\nas Dr. Hook, Mr. Palmer, and Mr. Perceval; it must have been a grievous\ntrial for themselves; yet what after all could they do for me?\nConfidence in me was lost;--but I had already lost full confidence in\nmyself. Thoughts had passed over me a year and a half before in respect\nto the Anglican claims, which for the time had profoundly troubled me.\nThey had gone: I had not less confidence in the power and the prospects\nof the Apostolical movement than before; not less confidence than before\nin the grievousness of what I called the \"dominant errors\" of Rome: but\nhow was I any more to have absolute confidence in myself? how was I to\nhave confidence in my present confidence? how was I to be sure that I\nshould always think as I thought now? I felt that by this event a kind\nProvidence had saved me from an impossible position in the future.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFirst, if I remember right, they wished me to withdraw the Tract. This I\nrefused to do: I would not do so for the sake of those who were\nunsettled or in danger of unsettlement. I would not do so for my own\nsake; for how could I acquiesce in a mere Protestant interpretation of\nthe Articles? how could I range myself among the professors of a\ntheology, of which it put my teeth on edge even to hear 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 they\nsaw me obstinate. Their line of action was to get out of me as much as\nthey could; but upon the point of their tolerating the Tract I _was_\nobstinate. So they let me continue it on sale; and they said they would\nnot condemn it. But they said that this was on condition that I did not\ndefend it, that I stopped the series, and that I myself published my own\ncondemnation in a letter to the Bishop of Oxford. I impute nothing\nwhatever to him, he was ever most kind to me. Also, they said they could\nnot answer for what some individual Bishops might perhaps say about the\nTract in their own charges. I agreed to their conditions. My one point\nwas to save the Tract.\n\nNot a line in writing was given me, as a pledge of the observance of the\nmain article on their side of the engagement. Parts of letters from them\nwere read to me, without being put into my hands. It was an\n\"understanding.\" A clever man had warned me against \"understandings\"\nsome thirteen years before: I have hated them ever since.\n\nIn the last words of my letter to the Bishop of Oxford I thus resigned\nmy place in the Movement:--\n\n\"I have nothing to be sorry for,\" I say to him, \"except having made your\nLordship anxious, and others whom I am bound to revere. I have nothing\nto be sorry for, but everything to rejoice in and be thankful for. I\nhave never taken pleasure in seeming to be able to move a party, and\nwhatever influence I have had, has been found, not sought after. I have\nacted because others did not act, and have sacrificed a quiet which I\nprized. May God be with me in time to come, as He has been hitherto! and\nHe will be, if I can but keep my hand clean and my heart pure. I think I\ncan bear, or at least will try to bear, any personal humiliation, so\nthat I am preserved from betraying sacred interests, which the Lord of\ngrace and power has given into my charge[7].\"\n\n[7] To the Pamphlets published in my behalf at this time I should add\n\"One Tract more,\" an able and generous defence of Tractarianism and No.\n90, by the present Lord Houghton.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nHISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS FROM 1839 TO 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 I\nwas bound by so many strong and tender ties, I feel overcome with the\ndifficulty of satisfying myself in my account of it, and have recoiled\nfrom the attempt, till the near approach of the day, on which these\nlines must be given to the world, forces me to set about the task. For\nwho can know himself, and the multitude of subtle influences which act\nupon him? And who can recollect, at the distance of twenty-five years,\nall that he once knew about his thoughts and his deeds, and that, during\na portion of his life, when, even at the time, his observation, whether\nof himself or of the external world, was less than before or after, by\nvery reason of the perplexity and dismay which weighed upon him,--when,\nin spite of the light given to him according to his need amid his\ndarkness, yet a darkness it emphatically was? And who can suddenly gird\nhimself to a new and anxious undertaking, which he might be able indeed\nto perform well, were full and calm leisure allowed him to look through\nevery thing that he had written, whether in published works or private\nletters? yet again, granting that calm contemplation of the past, in\nitself so desirable, who could afford to be leisurely and deliberate,\nwhile he practises on himself a cruel operation, the ripping up of old\ngriefs, and the venturing again upon the \"infandum dolorem\" of years in\nwhich the stars of this lower heaven were one by one going out? I could\nnot in cool blood, nor except upon the imperious call of duty, attempt\nwhat I have set myself to do. It is both to head and heart an extreme\ntrial, thus to analyze what has so long gone by, and to bring out the\nresults of that examination. I have done various bold things in my life:\nthis is the boldest: and, were I not sure I should after all succeed in\nmy object, it would be madness to set about it.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\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 had\na great and still growing success, in recommending it to others. I had\nin the foregoing autumn been somewhat sore at the Bishop's Charge, but I\nhave a letter which shows that all annoyance had passed from my mind. In\nJanuary, if I recollect aright, in order to meet the popular clamour\nagainst myself and others, and to satisfy the Bishop, I had collected\ninto one all the strong things which they, and especially I, had said\nagainst the Church of Rome, in order to their insertion among the\nadvertisements appended to our publications. Conscious as I was that my\nopinions in religion were not gained, as the world said, from Roman\nsources, but were, on the contrary, the birth of my own mind and of the\ncircumstances in which I had been placed, I had a scorn of the\nimputations which were heaped upon me. It was true that I held a large\nbold system of religion, very unlike the Protestantism of the day, but\nit was the concentration and adjustment of the statements of great\nAnglican authorities, and I had as much right to hold it, as the\nEvangelical, and more right than the Liberal party could show, for\nasserting their own respective doctrines. As I declared on occasion of\nTract 90, I claimed, in behalf of who would in the Anglican Church, the\nright of holding with Bramhall a comprecation with the Saints, and the\nMass all but Transubstantiation with Andrewes, or with Hooker that\nTransubstantiation itself is not a point for Churches to part communion\nupon, or with Hammond that a General Council, truly such, never did,\nnever shall err in a matter of faith, or with Bull that man had in\nparadise and lost on the fall, a supernatural habit of grace, or with\nThorndike that penance is a propitiation for post-baptismal sin, or with\nPearson that the all-powerful name of Jesus is no otherwise given than\nin the Catholic Church. \"Two can play at that,\" was often in my mouth,\nwhen men of Protestant sentiments appealed to the Articles, Homilies, or\nReformers; in the sense that, if they had a right to speak loud, I had\nthe liberty to speak out as well as they, and had the means, by the same\nor parallel appeals, of giving them tit for tat. I thought that the\nAnglican Church was tyrannized over by a mere party, and I aimed at\nbringing into effect the promise contained in the motto to the Lyra,\n\"They shall know the difference now.\" I only asked to be allowed to show\nthem the difference.\n\nWhat will best describe my state of mind at the early part of 1839, is\nan Article in the British Critic for that April. I have looked over it\nnow, for the first time since it was published; and have been struck by\nit for this reason:--it contains the last words which I ever spoke as an\nAnglican to Anglicans. It may now be read as my parting address and\nvalediction, made to my friends. I little knew it at the time. It\nreviews the actual state of things, and it ends by looking towards the\nfuture. It is not altogether mine; for my memory goes to this,--that I\nhad asked a friend to do the work; that then, the thought came on me,\nthat I would do it myself: and that he was good enough to put into my\nhands what he had with great appositeness written, and that I embodied\nit in my Article. Every one, I think, will recognize the greater part of\nit as mine. It was published two years before the affair of Tract 90,\nand was entitled \"The State of Religious 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: The\nMovement has manifested itself \"with the most rapid growth of the\nhot-bed of these evil days.\" Another: \"The _Via Media_ is crowded with\nyoung enthusiasts, who never presume to argue, except against the\npropriety of arguing at all.\" Another: \"Were I to give you a full list\nof the works, which they have produced within the short space of five\nyears, I should surprise you. You would see what a task it would be to\nmake yourself complete master of their system, even in its present\nprobably immature state. The writers have adopted the motto, 'In\nquietness and confidence shall be your strength.' With regard to\nconfidence, they have justified their adopting it; but as to quietness,\nit is not very quiet to pour forth such a succession of controversial\npublications.\" Another: \"The spread of these doctrines is in fact now\nhaving the effect of rendering all other distinctions obsolete, and of\nsevering the religious community into two portions, fundamentally and\nvehemently opposed one to the other. Soon there will be no middle ground\nleft; and every man, and especially every clergyman, will be compelled\nto make his choice between the two.\" Another: \"The time has gone by,\nwhen those unfortunate and deeply regretted publications can be passed\nover without notice, and the hope that their influence would fail is now\ndead.\" Another: \"These doctrines had already made fearful progress. One\nof the largest churches in Brighton is crowded to hear them; so is the\nchurch at Leeds. There are few towns of note, to which they have not\nextended. They are preached in small towns in Scotland. They obtain in\nElginshire, 600 miles north of London. I found them myself in the heart\nof the highlands of Scotland. They are advocated in the newspaper and\nperiodical press. They have even insinuated themselves into the House of\nCommons.\" And, lastly, a bishop in a charge:--It \"is daily assuming a\nmore serious and alarming aspect. Under the specious pretence of\ndeference to Antiquity and respect for primitive models, the foundations\nof the Protestant Church are undermined by men, who dwell within her\nwalls, and those who sit in the Reformers' seat are traducing the\nReformation.\"\n\nAfter thus stating the phenomenon of the time, as it presented itself to\nthose who did not sympathize in it, the Article proceeds to account for\nit; and this it does by considering it as a re-action from the dry and\nsuperficial character of the religious teaching and the literature of\nthe last generation, or century, and as a result of the need which was\nfelt both by the hearts and the intellects of the nation for a deeper\nphilosophy, and as the evidence and as the partial fulfilment of that\nneed, to which even the chief authors of the then generation had borne\nwitness. First, I mentioned the literary influence of Walter Scott, who\nturned men's minds in the direction of the middle ages. \"The general\nneed,\" I said, \"of something deeper and more attractive, than what had\noffered itself elsewhere, may be considered to have led to his\npopularity; and by means of his popularity he re-acted on his readers,\nstimulating their mental thirst, feeding their hopes, setting before\nthem visions, which, when once seen, are not easily forgotten, and\nsilently indoctrinating them with nobler ideas, which might afterwards\nbe appealed to as first principles.\"\n\nThen I spoke of Coleridge, thus: \"While history in prose and verse was\nthus made the instrument of Church feelings and opinions, a\nphilosophical basis for the same was laid in England by a very original\nthinker, who, while he indulged a liberty of speculation, which no\nChristian can tolerate, and advocated conclusions which were often\nheathen rather than Christian, yet after all installed a higher\nphilosophy into inquiring minds, than they had hitherto been accustomed\nto accept. In this way he made trial of his age, and succeeded in\ninteresting its genius in the cause of Catholic truth.\"\n\nThen come Southey and Wordsworth, \"two living poets, one of whom in the\ndepartment of fantastic fiction, the other in that of philosophical\nmeditation, have addressed themselves to the same high principles and\nfeelings, and carried forward their readers in the same direction.\"\n\nThen comes the prediction of this re-action 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 date\nof my Article: \"No Church on earth has more intrinsic excellence than\nthe 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 to\ndisplay to others, whatever yet remains undiscovered, whether in the\nwords or works of God.\" Also I referred to \"a much venerated clergyman\nof the last generation,\" who said shortly before his death, \"Depend on\nit, the day will come, when those great doctrines, now buried, will be\nbrought out to the light of day, and then the effect will be fearful.\" I\nremarked upon this, that they who \"now blame the impetuosity of the\ncurrent, should rather turn their animadversions upon those who have\ndammed up a majestic river, till it has become a flood.\"\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 was\nwithin us, \"rising up in hearts where it was least suspected, and\nworking itself, though not in secret, yet so subtly and impalpably, as\nhardly to admit of precaution or encounter on any ordinary human rules\nof 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 variety\nof their respective antecedents. Dr. Hook and Mr. Churton represented\nthe high Church dignitaries of the last century; Mr. Perceval, the Tory\naristocracy; Mr. Keble came from a country parsonage; Mr. Palmer from\nIreland; Dr. Pusey from the Universities of Germany, and the study of\nArabic MSS.; Mr. Dodsworth from the study of Prophecy; Mr. Oakeley had\ngained his views, as he himself expressed it, \"partly by study, partly\nby reflection, partly by conversation with one or two friends, inquirers\nlike himself:\" while I speak of myself as being \"much indebted to the\nfriendship of Archbishop Whately.\" And thus I am led on to ask, \"What\nhead of a sect is there? What march of opinions can be traced from mind\nto mind among preachers such as these? They are one and all in their\ndegree the 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 be\nkept in order. It is very much to the purpose to draw attention to this\npoint now, when such extravagances as then occurred, whatever they were,\nare simply laid to my door, or to the charge of the doctrines which I\nadvocated. A man cannot do more than freely confess what is wrong, say\nthat it need not be, that it ought not to be, and that he is very sorry\nthat it should be. Now I said in the Article, which I am reviewing, that\nthe great truths themselves, which we were preaching, must not be\ncondemned on account of such abuse of them. \"Aberrations there must ever\nbe, whatever the doctrine is, while the human heart is sensitive,\ncapricious, and wayward. A mixed multitude went out of Egypt with the\nIsraelites.\" \"There will ever be a number of persons,\" I continued,\n\"professing the opinions of a movement party, who talk loudly and\nstrangely, do odd or fierce things, display themselves unnecessarily,\nand disgust other people; persons, too young to be wise, too generous to\nbe cautious, too warm to be sober, or too intellectual to be humble.\nSuch persons will be very apt to attach themselves to particular\npersons, to use particular names, to say things merely because others\ndo, and to act in a party-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 those extravagances furnished quite as much the welcome\nexcuse for those who were jealous or shy of us, as the stumbling-blocks\nof those 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 \"Plain\nSermons\" with the avowed purpose of discouraging and correcting whatever\nwas uppish or extreme in our followers: to this Series I contributed a\nvolume 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 majesty\nof the fuller system of Primitive Christianity, and seeing the\ntranscendent strength of its principles, _shall become loud and voluble\nadvocates_ in their behalf, speaking the more freely, _because they do\nnot feel them deeply as founded_ in divine and eternal truth, of such\npersons _it is our duty to declare plainly_, that, as we should\ncontemplate their condition with serious misgiving, _so would they be\nthe last persons from whom we should_ seek 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 for\nthe Times have wished to form.\"\n\nThese clergymen had the best of claims to use these beautiful words, for\nthey were themselves, all of them, important writers in the Tracts, the\ntwo Mr. Kebles, and Mr. Isaac Williams. And this passage, with which\nthey ushered their Series into the world, I quoted in the Article, of\nwhich I am giving an account, and I added, \"What more can be required of\nthe preachers of neglected truth, than that they should admit that some,\nwho do not assent to their preaching, are holier and better men than\nsome who do?\" They were not answerable for the intemperance of those who\ndishonoured a true doctrine, provided they protested, as they did,\nagainst such intemperance. \"They were not answerable for the dust and\ndin which attends any great moral movement. The truer doctrines are, the\nmore liable they are to be perverted.\"\n\nThe notice of these incidental faults of opinion or temper in adherents\nof the Movement, led on to a discussion of the secondary causes, by\nmeans of which a system of doctrine may be embraced, modified, or\ndeveloped, of the variety of schools which may all be in the One Church,\nand of the succession of one phase of doctrine to another, while that\ndoctrine is ever one and the same. Thus I was brought on to the subject\nof Antiquity, which was the basis of the doctrine of the _Via Media_,\nand by which was not to be understood a servile imitation of the past,\nbut such a reproduction of it as is really new, while it is old. \"We\nhave good hope,\" I say, \"that a system will be rising up, superior to\nthe age, yet harmonizing with, and carrying out its higher points, which\nwill attract to itself those who are willing to make a venture and to\nface difficulties, for the sake of something higher in prospect. On\nthis, as on other subjects, the proverb will apply, 'Fortes fortuna\nadjuvat.'\"\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 did\nnot venture to pronounce upon it. \"About the future, we have no prospect\nbefore our minds whatever, good or bad. Ever since that great luminary,\nAugustine, proved to be the last bishop of Hippo, Christians have had a\nlesson against attempting to foretell, _how_ Providence will prosper\nand\" [or?] \"bring to an end, what it begins.\" Perhaps the lately-revived\nprinciples would prevail in the Anglican Church; perhaps they would be\nlost in some miserable schism, or some more miserable compromise; but\nthere was nothing rash in venturing to predict that \"neither Puritanism\nnor Liberalism had any permanent inheritance within her.\"\n\nThen I went on: \"As to Liberalism, we think the formularies of the\nChurch will ever, with the aid of a good Providence, keep it from making\nany serious inroads upon the clergy. Besides, it is too cold a principle\nto prevail with the multitude.\" But as regarded what was called\nEvangelical Religion or Puritanism, there was more to cause alarm. I\nobserved upon its organization; 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 each\nother; they will melt away like a snow-drift. It has no straightforward\nview on any one point, on which it professes to teach, and to hide its\npoverty, it has dressed itself out in a maze of words. We have no dread\nof it at all; we only fear what it may lead to. It does not stand on\nintrenched ground, or make any pretence to a position; it does but\noccupy the space between contending powers, Catholic Truth and\nRationalism. Then indeed will be the stern encounter, when two real and\nliving principles, simple, entire, and consistent, one in the Church,\nthe other out of it, at length rush upon each other, contending not for\nnames and words, or half-views, but for elementary notions and\ndistinctive moral characters.\"\n\nWhether the ideas of the coming age upon religion were true or false, at\nleast they would be real. \"In the present day,\" I said, \"mistiness is\nthe mother of wisdom. A man who can set down a 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 truth\nwithout guarding himself against being supposed to exclude the\ncontradictory,--who holds that Scripture is the only authority, yet that\nthe Church is to be deferred to, that faith only justifies, yet that it\ndoes not justify without works, that grace does not depend on the\nsacraments, yet is not given without them, that bishops are a divine\nordinance, yet those who have them not are in the same religious\ncondition as those who have,--this is your safe man and the hope of the\nChurch; this is what the Church is said to want, not party men, but\nsensible, temperate, sober, well-judging persons, to guide it through\nthe channel of no-meaning, between the Scylla and Charybdis of Aye and\nNo.\"\n\nThis state of things, however, I said, could not last, if men were to\nread and think. They \"will not keep in that very attitude which you call\nsound Church-of-Englandism or orthodox Protestantism. They cannot go on\nfor ever standing on one leg, or sitting without a chair, or walking\nwith their feet tied, or like Tityrus's stags grazing in the air. They\nwill take one view or another, but it will be a consistent view. It may\nbe Liberalism, or Erastianism, or Popery, or Catholicity; but it will be\nreal.\"\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_ Via\nMedia which will preserve us from what threatens, though it cannot\nrestore the dead. The spirit of Luther is dead; but Hildebrand and\nLoyola are alive. Is it sensible, sober, judicious, to be so very angry\nwith those writers of the day, who point to the fact, that our divines\nof the seventeenth century have occupied a ground which is the true and\nintelligible mean between extremes? Is it wise to quarrel with this\nground, because it is not exactly what we should choose, had we the\npower of choice? Is it true moderation, instead of trying to fortify a\nmiddle doctrine, to fling stones at those who do?... Would you rather\nhave your sons and daughters members of the Church of England or of the\nChurch of Rome?\"\n\nAnd thus I left the matter. But, while I was thus speaking of the future\nof the Movement, I was in truth winding up my accounts with it, little\ndreaming that it was so to be;--while I was still, in some way or other,\nfeeling about for an available _Via Media_, I was soon to receive a\nshock which was to cast out of my imagination all middle courses and\ncompromises for ever. As I have said, this Article appeared in the April\nnumber of the British Critic; in the July number, I cannot tell why,\nthere is no Article of mine; before the number for October, the event\nhad 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 necessary\nfor my narrative, as plans of buildings and homesteads are at times\nneeded in the proceedings of our law courts.\n\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 be\ndone 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 teaching\nof 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 state\nof 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 and\nprecision. It was easy to make points, not easy to sum up and settle. It\nwas not easy to find a clear issue for the dispute, and still less by a\nlogical process to decide it in favour of Anglicanism. This difficulty,\nhowever, had no tendency whatever to harass or perplex me: it was a\nmatter which bore not on convictions, but on proofs.\n\nFirst I saw, as all see who study the subject, that a broad distinction\nhad to be drawn between the actual state of belief and of usage in the\ncountries which were in communion with the Roman Church, and her formal\ndogmas; the latter did not cover the former. Sensible pain, for\ninstance, is not implied in the Tridentine decree upon Purgatory; but it\nwas the tradition of the Latin Church, and I had seen the pictures of\nsouls in flames in the streets of Naples. Bishop Lloyd had brought this\ndistinction out strongly in an Article in the British Critic in 1825;\nindeed, it was one of the most common objections made to the Church of\nRome, that she dared not commit herself by formal decree, to what\nnevertheless she sanctioned and allowed. Accordingly, in my Prophetical\nOffice, I view as simply separate ideas, Rome quiescent, and Rome in\naction. I contrasted her creed on the one hand, with her ordinary\nteaching, her controversial tone, her political and social bearing, and\nher popular beliefs and practices, on the other.\n\nWhile I made this distinction between the decrees and the traditions of\nRome, I drew a parallel distinction between Anglicanism quiescent, and\nAnglicanism in action. In its formal creed Anglicanism was not at a\ngreat distance from Rome: far otherwise, when viewed in its insular\nspirit, the traditions of its establishment, its historical\ncharacteristics, its controversial rancour, and its private judgment. I\ndisavowed and condemned those excesses, and called them \"Protestantism\"\nor \"Ultra-Protestantism:\" I wished to find a parallel disclaimer, on the\npart of Roman controversialists, of that popular system of beliefs and\nusages in their own Church, which I called \"Popery.\" When that hope was\na dream, I saw that the controversy lay between the book-theology of\nAnglicanism on the one side, and the living system of what I called\nRoman corruption on the other. I could not get further than this; with\nthis result I was forced to content myself.\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_, to\nwhich the controversy between them was to be brought, it was this:--the\nAnglican disputant took his stand upon Antiquity or Apostolicity, the\nRoman upon Catholicity. The Anglican said to the Roman: \"There is but\nOne Faith, the Ancient, and you have not kept to it;\" the Roman\nretorted: \"There is but One Church, the Catholic, and you are out of\nit.\" The Anglican urged \"Your special beliefs, practices, modes of\naction, are nowhere in Antiquity;\" the Roman objected: \"You do not\ncommunicate with any one Church besides your own and its offshoots, and\nyou have discarded principles, doctrines, sacraments, and usages, which\nare and ever have been received in the East and the West.\" The true\nChurch, as defined in the Creeds, was both Catholic and Apostolic; now,\nas I viewed the controversy in which I was engaged, England and Rome had\ndivided these notes or prerogatives between them: the cause lay thus,\nApostolicity _versus_ Catholicity.\n\nHowever, in thus stating the matter, of course I do not wish it supposed\nthat I allowed the note of Catholicity really to belong to Rome, to the\ndisparagement of the Anglican Church; but I considered that the special\npoint or plea of Rome in the controversy was Catholicity, as the\nAnglican plea was Antiquity. Of course I contended that the Roman idea\nof Catholicity was not ancient and apostolic. It was in my judgment at\nthe utmost only natural, becoming, expedient, that the whole of\nChristendom should be united in one visible body; while such a unity\nmight, on the other hand, be nothing more than a mere heartless and\npolitical combination. For myself, I held with the Anglican divines,\nthat, in the Primitive Church, there was a very real mutual independence\nbetween its separate parts, though, from a dictate of charity, there was\nin fact a close union between them. I considered that each See and\nDiocese might be compared to a crystal, and that each was similar to the\nrest, and that the sum total of them all was only a collection of\ncrystals. The unity of the Church lay, not in its being a polity, but in\nits being a family, a race, coming down by apostolical descent from its\nfirst founders and bishops. And I considered this truth brought out,\nbeyond the possibility of dispute, in the Epistles of St. Ignatius, in\nwhich the Bishop is represented as the one supreme authority in the\nChurch, that is, in his own place, with no one above him, except as, for\nthe sake of ecclesiastical order and expedience, arrangements had been\nmade by which one was put over or under another. So much for our own\nclaim to Catholicity, which was so perversely appropriated by our\nopponents to themselves:--on the other hand, as to our special strong\npoint, Antiquity, while, of course, by means of it, we were able to\ncondemn most emphatically the novel claim of Rome to domineer over other\nChurches, which were in truth her equals, further than that, we thereby\nespecially convicted her of the intolerable offence of having added to\nthe Faith. This was the critical head of accusation urged against her by\nthe Anglican disputant; and as he referred to St. Ignatius in proof that\nhe himself was a true Catholic, in spite of being separated from Rome,\nso he triumphantly referred to the Treatise of Vincentius of Lerins upon\nthe \"Quod semper, quod ubique, quod ab omnibus,\" in proof that the\ncontroversialists of Rome, in spite of their possession of the Catholic\nname, were separated in their creed from the Apostolical and primitive\nfaith.\n\nOf course those controversialists had their own mode of answering him,\nwith which I am not concerned in this place; here I am only concerned\nwith the 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 _status_\nof the controversy, as it presented itself to my mind, by extracts from\nmy writings of the dates of 1836, 1840, and 1841. And I introduce them\nwith a remark, which especially applies to the paper, from which I shall\nquote first, of the date of 1836. That paper appeared in the March and\nApril numbers of the British Magazine of that year, and was entitled\n\"Home Thoughts Abroad.\" Now it will be found, that, in the discussion\nwhich it contains, as in various other writings of mine, when I was in\nthe Anglican Church, the argument in behalf of Rome is stated with\nconsiderable perspicuity and force. And at the time my friends and\nsupporters cried out, \"How imprudent!\" and, both at the time, and\nespecially at a later date, my enemies have cried out, \"How insidious!\"\nFriends and foes virtually agreed in their criticism; I had set out the\ncause which I was combating to the best advantage: this was an offence;\nit might be from imprudence, it might be with a traitorous design. It\nwas from neither the one nor the other; but for the following reasons.\nFirst, I had a great impatience, whatever was the subject, of not\nbringing out the whole of it, as clearly as I could; next I wished to be\nas fair to my adversaries as possible; and thirdly I thought that there\nwas a great deal of shallowness among our own friends, and that they\nundervalued the strength of the argument in behalf of Rome, and that\nthey ought to be roused to a more exact apprehension of the position of\nthe controversy. At a later date, (1841,) when I really felt the force\nof the 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 that\nwas, because a number of persons were unsettled far more than I was, as\nto the Catholicity of the Anglican Church. It was quite plain that,\nunless I was perfectly candid in stating what could be said against it,\nthere was no chance that any representations, which I felt to be in its\nfavour, or at least to be adverse to Rome, would have had any success\nwith the persons in question.\n\nAt all times I had a deep conviction, to put the matter on the lowest\nground, that \"honesty was the best policy.\" Accordingly, in July 1841, I\nexpressed myself thus on the Anglican difficulty: \"This is an objection\nwhich we 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, by\nthose 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 Romanism\nagainst us; and, unless the proper persons take it into their serious\nconsideration, they may look for certain to undergo the loss, as time\ngoes on, of some whom they would least like to be lost to our Church.\"\nThe measure which I had especially in view in this passage, was the\nproject of a Jerusalem Bishopric, which the then Archbishop of\nCanterbury was at that time concocting with M. Bunsen, and of which I\nshall speak more in the sequel. And now to return to the Home Thoughts\nAbroad 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 of\nRome is corrupt. What then? to cut off a limb is a strange way of saving\nit from the influence of some constitutional ailment. Indigestion may\ncause cramp in the extremities; yet we spare our poor feet\nnotwithstanding. 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 of\nthings, 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 the\nChurch, (though, blessed be the promise! this cannot be,) yet let it\nperish _rather_ than the Truth should fail. Purity of faith is more\nprecious to the Christian than unity itself. If Rome has erred\ngrievously in doctrine, then it is a duty to separate even from Rome.\"\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 die.\nAlso he quotes a passage from St. Augustine in controversy with the\nDonatists to the same effect; viz. that, as being separated from the\nbody of the Church, they were _ipso facto_ cut off from the heritage of\nChrist. And he quotes St. Cyril's argument drawn from the very title\nCatholic, which no body or communion of men has ever dared or been able\nto appropriate, besides one. He adds, \"Now I am only contending for the\nfact, that the communion of Rome constitutes the main body of the Church\nCatholic, and that we are split off from it, and in the condition of the\nDonatists.\"\n\nThe other replies by denying the fact that the present Roman communion\nis like St. Augustine's Catholic Church, inasmuch as there must be taken\ninto account the large Anglican and Greek communions. Presently he takes\nthe offensive, naming distinctly the points, in which Rome has departed\nfrom Primitive Christianity, viz. \"the practical idolatry, the virtual\nworship of the Virgin and Saints, which are the offence of the Latin\nChurch, and the degradation of moral truth and duty, which follows from\nthese.\" And again: \"We cannot join a Church, did we wish it ever so\nmuch, which does not acknowledge our orders, refuses us the Cup, demands\nour acquiescence in image-worship, and excommunicates us, if we do not\nreceive it and all other 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 itself is\nnot found complete in those early centuries; so that the [Anglican]\nprinciple [of Antiquity] is self-destructive.\" \"When a man takes up this\n_Via Media_, he is a mere _doctrinaire_;\" he is like those, \"who, in\nsome matter of business, start up to suggest their own little crotchet,\nand are ever measuring mountains with a pocket ruler, or improving the\nplanetary courses.\" \"The _Via Media_ has slept in libraries; it is a\nsubstitute of infancy for manhood.\"\n\nIt is plain, then, that at the end of 1835 or beginning of 1836, I had\nthe whole state of the question before me, on which, to my mind, the\ndecision between the Churches depended. It is observable that the\nquestion of the position of the Pope, whether as the centre of unity, or\nas the source of jurisdiction, did not come into my thoughts at all; nor\ndid it, I think I may say, to the end. I doubt whether I ever distinctly\nheld any of his powers to be _de jure divino_, while I was in the\nAnglican Church;--not that I saw any difficulty in the doctrine; not\nthat in connexion with the history of St. Leo, of which I shall speak by\nand by, the idea of his infallibility did not cross my mind, for it\ndid,--but after all, in my view the controversy did not turn upon it; it\nturned upon the Faith and the Church. This was my issue of the\ncontroversy from the beginning to the end. There was a contrariety of\nclaims between the Roman and Anglican religions, and the history of my\nconversion is simply the process of working it out to a solution. In\n1838 I illustrated it by the contrast presented to us between the\nMadonna and Child, and a Calvary. The peculiarity of the Anglican\ntheology was this,--that it \"supposed the Truth to be entirely objective\nand detached, not\" (as in the theology of Rome) \"lying hid in the bosom\nof the Church as if one with her, clinging to and (as it were) lost in\nher embrace, but as being sole and unapproachable, as on the Cross or at\nthe Resurrection, with the Church close by, but in the background.\"\n\nAs I viewed the controversy in 1836 and 1838, so I viewed it in 1840 and\n1841. 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 from\nPrimitiveness, that of Romanists from Universality. It is a fact,\nhowever it is to be accounted for, that Rome has added to the Creed; and\nit is a fact, however we justify ourselves, that we are estranged from\nthe great body of Christians over the world. And each of these two facts\nis at first sight a grave difficulty in the respective systems to which\nthey belong.\" Again, \"While Rome, though not deferring to the Fathers,\nrecognizes them, and England, not deferring to the large body of the\nChurch, recognizes it, both Rome and 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 be\nmistaken here; we are neither accusing Rome of idolatry nor ourselves of\nschism; we think neither charge tenable; but still the Roman Church\npractises what is so like idolatry, and the English Church makes much of\nwhat is so very like schism, that without deciding what is the duty of a\nRoman Catholic towards the Church of England in her present state, we do\nseriously think that members of the English Church have a providential\ndirection given them, how to comport themselves towards the Church of\nRome, while she is what she is.\"\n\nOne remark more about Antiquity and the _Via Media_. As time went on,\nwithout doubting the strength of the Anglican argument from Antiquity, I\nfelt also that it was not merely our special plea, but our only one.\nAlso I felt that the _Via Media_, which was to represent it, was to be a\nsort of remodelled and adapted Antiquity. This I advanced both in Home\nThoughts Abroad and in the Article of the British Critic which I have\nanalyzed above. But this circumstance, that after all we must use\nprivate judgment upon Antiquity, created a sort of distrust of my theory\naltogether, which in the conclusion of my Volume on the Prophetical\nOffice (1836-7) I express thus: \"Now that our discussions draw to a\nclose, the thought, with which we entered on the subject, is apt to\nrecur, when the excitement of the inquiry has subsided, and weariness\nhas succeeded, that what has been said is but a dream, the wanton\nexercise, rather than the practical conclusions of the intellect.\" And I\nconclude the paragraph by anticipating a line of thought into which I\nwas, in the event, almost obliged to take refuge: \"After all,\" I say,\n\"the Church is ever invisible in its day, and faith only apprehends it.\"\nWhat was this, but to give up the Notes of a visible Church altogether,\nwhether the Catholic Note or the Apostolic?\n\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's party\nhad attracted attention, more, I think, than in any former year. I had\nput away from me the controversy with Rome for more than two years. In\nmy Parochial Sermons the subject had at no time been introduced: there\nhad been nothing for two years, either in my Tracts or in the British\nCritic, of a polemical character. I was returning, for the Vacation, to\nthe course of reading which I had many years before chosen as especially\nmy own. I have no reason to suppose that the thoughts of Rome came\nacross my mind at all. About the middle of June I began to study and\nmaster the history of the Monophysites. I was absorbed in the doctrinal\nquestion. This was from about June 13th to August 30th. It was during\nthis course of reading that for the first time a doubt came upon me of\nthe tenableness of Anglicanism. I recollect on the 30th of July\nmentioning to a friend, whom I had accidentally met, how remarkable the\nhistory was; but by the end of August 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 century,\nI found, as it seemed to me, Christendom of the sixteenth and the\nnineteenth centuries reflected. I saw my face in that mirror, and I was\na Monophysite. The Church of the _Via Media_ was in the position of the\nOriental communion, Rome was, where she now is; and the Protestants were\nthe Eutychians. Of all passages of history, since history has been, who\nwould have thought of going to the sayings and doings of old Eutyches,\nthat _delirus senex_, as (I think) Petavius calls him, and to the\nenormities of the unprincipled Dioscorus, in order to be converted to\nRome!\n\nNow let it be simply understood that I am not writing controversially,\nbut with the one object of relating things as they happened to me in the\ncourse of my conversion. With this view I will quote a passage from the\naccount, which I gave in 1850, of my reasonings 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; difficult\nto find arguments against the Tridentine Fathers, which did not tell\nagainst the Fathers of Chalcedon; difficult to condemn the Popes of the\nsixteenth century, without condemning the Popes of the fifth. The drama\nof religion, and the combat of truth and error, were ever one and the\nsame. The principles and proceedings of the Church now, were those of\nthe Church then; the principles and proceedings of heretics then, were\nthose of Protestants now. I found it so,--almost fearfully; there was an\nawful similitude, more awful, because so silent and unimpassioned,\nbetween the dead records of the past and the feverish chronicle of the\npresent. The shadow of the fifth century was on the sixteenth. It was\nlike a spirit rising from the troubled waters of the old world, with the\nshape and lineaments of the new. The Church then, as now, might be\ncalled peremptory and stern, resolute, overbearing, and relentless; and\nheretics were shifting, changeable, reserved, and deceitful, ever\ncourting civil power, and never agreeing together, except by its aid;\nand the civil power was ever aiming at comprehensions, trying to put the\ninvisible out of view, and substituting expediency for faith. What was\nthe use of continuing the controversy, or defending my position, if,\nafter all, I was forging arguments for Arius or Eutyches, and turning\ndevil's advocate against the much-enduring Athanasius and the majestic\nLeo? Be my soul with the Saints! and shall I lift up my hand against\nthem? Sooner may my right hand forget her cunning, and wither outright,\nas his who once stretched it out against a prophet of God! anathema to a\nwhole tribe of Cranmers, Ridleys, Latimers, and Jewels! perish the names\nof Bramhall, Ussher, Taylor, Stillingfleet, and Barrow from the face of\nthe earth, ere I should do ought but fall at their feet in love and in\nworship, whose image was continually before my eyes, and whose musical\nwords were ever in my ears and on my tongue!\"\n\nHardly had I brought my course of reading to a close, when the Dublin\nReview of that same August was put into my hands, by friends who were\nmore favourable to the cause of Rome than I was myself. There was an\narticle in it on the \"Anglican Claim\" by Dr. Wiseman. This was about the\nmiddle of September. It was on the Donatists, with an application to\nAnglicanism. I read it, and did not see much in it. The Donatist\ncontroversy was known to me for some years, as has appeared already. The\ncase was not parallel to that of the Anglican Church. St. Augustine in\nAfrica wrote against the Donatists in Africa. They were a furious party\nwho made a schism within the African Church, and not beyond its limits.\nIt was a case of Altar against Altar, of two occupants of the same See,\nas that between the Non-jurors in England and the Established Church;\nnot the case of one Church against another, as of Rome against the\nOriental Monophysites. But my friend, an anxiously religious man, now,\nas then, very dear to me, a Protestant still, pointed out the palmary\nwords of St. Augustine, which were contained in one of the extracts made\nin the Review, and which had escaped my observation. \"Securus judicat\norbis terrarum.\" He repeated these words again and again, and, when he\nwas 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 cogency\nto the Article, which had escaped me at first. They decided\necclesiastical questions on a simpler rule than that of Antiquity; nay,\nSt. Augustine was one of the prime oracles of Antiquity; here then\nAntiquity was deciding against itself. What a light was hereby thrown\nupon every controversy in the Church! not that, for the moment, the\nmultitude may not falter in their judgment,--not that, in the Arian\nhurricane, Sees more than can be numbered did not bend before its fury,\nand fall off from St. Athanasius,--not that the crowd of Oriental\nBishops did not need to be sustained during the contest by the voice and\nthe eye of St. Leo; but that the deliberate judgment, in which the whole\nChurch at length rests and acquiesces, is an infallible prescription and\na final sentence against such portions of it as protest and secede. Who\ncan account for the impressions which are made on him? For a mere\nsentence, the words of St. Augustine, struck me with a power which I\nnever had felt from any words before. To take a familiar instance, they\nwere like the \"Turn again Whittington\" of the chime; or, to take a more\nserious one, they were like the \"Tolle, lege,--Tolle, lege,\" of the\nchild, which converted St. Augustine himself. \"Securus judicat orbis\nterrarum!\" By those great words of the ancient Father, interpreting and\nsumming up the long and varied course of ecclesiastical history, the\ntheory of the _Via Media_ was absolutely pulverized.\n\nI became excited at the view thus opened upon me. I was just starting on\na round of visits; and I mentioned my state of mind to two most intimate\nfriends: I think to no others. After a while, I got calm, and at length\nthe vivid impression upon my imagination faded away. What I thought\nabout it on reflection, I will attempt to describe presently. I had to\ndetermine its logical value, and its bearing upon my duty. Meanwhile, so\nfar as this was certain,--I had seen the shadow of a hand upon the wall.\nIt was clear that I had a good deal to learn on the question of the\nChurches, and that perhaps some new light was coming upon me. He who has\nseen a ghost, cannot be as if he had never seen it. The heavens had\nopened and closed again. The thought for the moment had been, \"The\nChurch of Rome will be found right after all;\" and then it had vanished.\nMy old convictions remained as before.\n\nAt this time, I wrote my Sermon on Divine Calls, which I published in my\nvolume 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 to\nplease the world, to please the great, nay even to please those whom we\nlove, compared with this? What gain is it to be applauded, admired,\ncourted, followed,--compared with this one aim, of not being disobedient\nto a heavenly vision? What can this world offer comparable with that\ninsight into spiritual things, that keen faith, that heavenly peace,\nthat high sanctity, that everlasting righteousness, that hope of glory,\nwhich they have, who in sincerity love and follow our Lord Jesus Christ?\nLet us beg and pray Him day by day to reveal Himself to our souls more\nfully, to quicken our senses, to give us sight and hearing, taste and\ntouch of the world to come; so to work within us, that we may sincerely\nsay, 'Thou shalt guide me with Thy counsel, and after that receive me\nwith glory. Whom have I in heaven but Thee? and there is none upon earth\nthat I desire in comparison of Thee. My flesh and my heart faileth, but\nGod is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever.'\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNow to trace the succession of thoughts, and the conclusions, and the\nconsequent innovations on my previous belief, and the general conduct,\nto which I was led, upon this sudden visitation. And first, I will say,\nwhatever comes of saying it, for I leave inferences to others, that for\nyears I must have had something of an habitual notion, though it was\nlatent, and had never led me to distrust my own convictions, that my\nmind had not found its ultimate rest, and that in some sense or other I\nwas on journey. During the same passage across the Mediterranean in\nwhich I wrote \"Lead kindly light,\" I also wrote the verses, which are\nfound in the Lyra under the head of \"Providences,\" beginning, \"When I\nlook back.\" This was in 1833; and, since I have begun this narrative, I\nhave found a memorandum under the date of September 7, 1829, in which I\nspeak of myself, as \"now in my rooms in Oriel College, slowly advancing\n&c. and led on by God's hand blindly, not knowing whither He is taking\nme.\" But, whatever this presentiment be worth, it was no protection\nagainst the dismay and disgust, which I felt, in consequence of the\ndreadful misgiving, of which I have been relating the history. The one\nquestion was, what was I to do? I had to make up my mind for myself, and\nothers could not help me. I determined to be guided, not by my\nimagination, but by my reason. And this I said over and over again in\nthe years which followed, both in conversation and in private letters.\nHad it not been for this severe resolve, I should have been a Catholic\nsooner than I was. Moreover, I felt on consideration a positive doubt,\non the other hand, whether the suggestion did not come from below. Then\nI said to myself, Time alone can solve that question. It was my business\nto go on as usual, to obey those convictions to which I had so long\nsurrendered myself, which still had possession of me, and on which my\nnew thoughts had no direct bearing. That new conception of things should\nonly so far influence me, as it had a logical claim to do so. If it came\nfrom above, it would come again;--so I trusted,--and with more definite\noutlines and greater cogency and consistency of proof. I thought of\nSamuel, before \"he knew the word of the Lord;\" and therefore I went, and\nlay down to sleep again. This was my broad view of the matter, and my\n_prim\u00e2 facie_ conclusion.\n\nHowever, my new historical fact had already 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 pieces;\nnot indeed as an argument against \"Roman errors,\" nor as against\nProtestantism, but as in behalf of England. I had no longer 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 these\nthree, the first two were better secured in Rome than in the Anglican\nChurch. The Apostolical Succession, the two prominent sacraments, and\nthe primitive Creeds, belonged, indeed, to the latter; but there had\nbeen and was far less strictness on matters of dogma and ritual in the\nAnglican system than in the Roman: in consequence, my main argument for\nthe Anglican claims lay in the positive and special charges, which I\ncould bring against Rome. I had no positive Anglican theory. I was very\nnearly a pure Protestant. Lutherans had a sort of theology, so had\nCalvinists; 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 fifteen,\nI had so fully imbibed it, that I had actually erased in my _Gradus ad\nParnassum_, such titles, under the word \"Papa,\" as \"Christi Vicarius,\"\n\"sacer interpres,\" and \"sceptra gerens,\" and substituted epithets so\nvile that I cannot bring myself to write them down here. The effect of\nthis early persuasion remained as, what I have already called it, a\n\"stain upon my imagination.\" As regards my reason, I began in 1833 to\nform theories on the subject, which tended to obliterate it; yet by 1838\nI had got no further than to consider Antichrist, as not the Church of\nRome, but the spirit of the old pagan city, the fourth monster of\nDaniel, which was still alive, and which had corrupted the Church which\nwas planted there. Soon after this indeed, and before my attention was\ndirected to the Monophysite controversy, I underwent a great change of\nopinion. I saw that, from the nature of the case, the true Vicar of\nChrist must ever to the world seem like Antichrist, and be stigmatized\nas such, because a resemblance must ever exist between an original and a\nforgery; and thus the fact of such a calumny was almost one of the notes\nof the Church. But we cannot unmake ourselves or change our habits in a\nmoment. Though my reason was convinced, I did not throw off, for some\ntime after,--I could not have thrown off,--the unreasoning prejudice and\nsuspicion, which I cherished about her at least by fits and starts, in\nspite of this conviction of my reason. I cannot prove this, but I\nbelieve it to have been the case from what I recollect of myself. Nor\nwas there any thing in the history of St. Leo and the Monophysites to\nundo the firm belief I had in the existence of what I called the\npractical abuses and excesses of Rome.\n\nTo her inconsistencies then, to her ambition and intrigue, to her\nsophistries (as I considered them to be) I now 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, to\nspeak against the Roman Church herself or her formal doctrines. I was\nvery averse to speaking against doctrines, which might possibly turn out\nto be true, though at the time I had no reason for thinking they were;\nor against the Church, which had preserved them. I began to have\nmisgivings, that, strong as my own feelings had been against her, yet in\nsome things which I had said, I had taken the statements of Anglican\ndivines for granted without weighing them for myself. I said to a friend\nin 1840, in a letter, which I shall use presently, \"I am troubled by\ndoubts whether as it is, I have not, in what I have published, spoken\ntoo strongly against Rome, though I think I did it in a kind of faith,\nbeing determined to put myself into the English system, and say all that\nour divines said, whether I had fully weighed it or not.\" I was sore\nabout the great Anglican divines, as if they had taken me in, and made\nme say strong things, which facts did not justify. Yet I _did_ still\nhold in substance all that I had said against the Church of Rome in my\nProphetical Office. I felt the force of the usual Protestant objections\nagainst her; I believed that we had the Apostolical succession in the\nAnglican Church, and the grace of the sacraments; I was not sure that\nthe difficulty of its isolation might not be overcome, though I was far\nfrom sure that it could. I did not see any clear proof that it had\ncommitted itself to any heresy, or had taken part against the truth; and\nI was not sure that it would not revive into full Apostolic purity and\nstrength, and grow into union with Rome herself (Rome explaining her\ndoctrines and guarding against their abuse), that is, if we were but\npatient and hopeful. I began to wish for union between the Anglican\nChurch and Rome, if, and when, it was possible; and I did what I could\nto gain weekly prayers for that object. The ground which I felt to be\ngood against her was the moral ground: I felt I could not be wrong in\nstriking at her political and social line of action. The alliance of a\ndogmatic religion with liberals, high or low, seemed to me a\nprovidential direction against moving towards Rome, and a better\n\"Preservative against Popery,\" than the three volumes in folio, in\nwhich, I think, that prophylactic is to be found. However, on occasions\nwhich demanded it, I felt it a duty to give out plainly all that I\nthought, though I did not like to do so. One such instance occurred,\nwhen I had 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 preach\nthe Blessed Virgin and the Saints, and purgatory.\" On this occasion I\nrecollect expressing to a friend the distress it gave me thus to speak;\nbut, I said, \"How can I help saying it, if I think it? and I _do_ think\nit; my Bishop calls on me to say out what I think; and that is the long\nand the short of it.\" But I recollected Hurrell Froude's words to me,\nalmost his dying words, \"I must enter another protest against your\ncursing and swearing. What good can it do? and I call it uncharitable to\nan excess. How mistaken we may ourselves be, on many points that are\nonly 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 controversial\nbearing, and the social methods and manifestations of Rome. And here I\nfound a matter ready to my hand, which affected me the more sensibly for\nthe reason that it lay at our very doors. I can hardly describe too\nstrongly my feeling upon it. I had an unspeakable aversion to the policy\nand acts of Mr. O'Connell, because, as I thought, he associated himself\nwith men of all religions and no religion against the Anglican Church,\nand advanced Catholicism by violence and intrigue. When then I found him\ntaken up by the English Catholics, and, as I supposed, at Rome, I\nconsidered I had a fulfilment before my eyes how the Court of Rome\nplayed fast and loose, and justified the serious charges which I had\nseen put down in books against it. Here we saw what Rome was in action,\nwhatever she might be when quiescent. Her conduct was simply secular and\npolitical.\n\nThis feeling led me into the excess of being very rude to that zealous\nand most charitable man, Mr. Spencer, when he came to Oxford in January,\n1840, to get Anglicans to set about praying for Unity. I myself, at that\ntime, or soon after, drew up such prayers; their desirableness was one\nof the first thoughts which came upon me after my shock; but I was too\nmuch annoyed with the political action of the Catholic body in these\nislands to wish to have any thing to do with them personally. So glad in\nmy heart was I to see him, when he came to my rooms with Mr. Palmer of\nMagdalen, that I could have laughed for joy; I think I did laugh; but I\nwas very rude to him, I would not meet him at dinner, and that, (though\nI did not say so,) because I considered him \"in loco apostat\u00e6\" from the\nAnglican Church, and I hereby beg his pardon for it. I wrote afterwards\nwith a view to apologize, but I dare say he must have thought that I\nmade the matter worse, for these were 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, if\nI may say it, that your acts are contrary to your words. You invite us\nto a union of hearts, at the same time that you are doing all you can,\nnot to restore, not to reform, not to re-unite, but to destroy our\nChurch. You go further than your principles require. You are leagued\nwith our enemies. 'The voice is Jacob's voice, but the hands are the\nhands of Esau.' This is what especially distresses us; this is what we\ncannot understand; how Christians, like yourselves, with the clear view\nyou have that a warfare is ever waging in the world between good and\nevil, should, in the present state of England, ally yourselves with the\nside of evil against the side of good.... Of parties now in the country,\nyou cannot but allow, that next to yourselves we are nearest to revealed\ntruth. We maintain great and holy principles; we profess Catholic\ndoctrines.... So near are we as a body to yourselves in modes of\nthinking, as even to have been taunted with the nicknames which belong\nto you; and, on the other hand, if there are professed infidels,\nscoffers, sceptics, unprincipled men, rebels, they are found among our\nopponents. And yet you take part with them against us.... You consent to\nact hand in hand [with these and others] for our overthrow. Alas! all\nthis it is that impresses us irresistibly with the notion that you are a\npolitical, not a religious party; that in order to gain an end on which\nyou set your hearts,--an open stage for yourselves in England,--you ally\nyourselves with those who hold nothing against those who hold something.\nThis is what distresses my own mind so greatly, to speak of myself,\nthat, with limitations which need not now be mentioned, I cannot meet\nfamiliarly any leading persons of the Roman Communion, and least of all\nwhen they come on a religious errand. Break off, I would say, with Mr.\nO'Connell in Ireland and the liberal party in England, or come not to us\nwith overtures for mutual prayer and religious sympathy.\"\n\nAnd here came in another feeling, of a personal nature, which had little\nto do with the argument against Rome, except that, in my prejudice, I\nviewed what happened to myself in the light of my own ideas of the\ntraditionary conduct of her advocates and instruments. I was very stern\nin the case of any interference in our Oxford matters on the part of\ncharitable Catholics, and of any attempt to do me good personally. There\nwas nothing, indeed, at the time more likely to throw me back. \"Why do\nyou meddle? why cannot you let me alone? You can do me no good; you know\nnothing on earth about me; you may actually do me harm; I am in better\nhands than yours. I know my own sincerity of purpose; and I am\ndetermined upon taking my time.\" Since I have been a Catholic, people\nhave sometimes accused me of backwardness in making converts; and\nProtestants have argued from it that I have no great eagerness to do so.\nIt would be against my nature to act otherwise than I do; but besides,\nit would be to forget the lessons which I gained in the experience of my\nown history in the past.\n\nThis is the account which I have to give of some savage and ungrateful\nwords in the British Critic of 1840 against the controversialists of\nRome: \"By their fruits ye shall know them.... We see it attempting to\ngain converts among us by unreal representations of its doctrines,\nplausible statements, bold assertions, appeals to the weaknesses of\nhuman nature, to our fancies, our eccentricities, our fears, our\nfrivolities, our false philosophies. We see its agents, smiling and\nnodding and ducking to attract attention, as gipsies make up to truant\nboys, holding out tales for the nursery, and pretty pictures, and gilt\ngingerbread, and physic concealed in jam, and sugar-plums for good\nchildren. Who can but feel shame when the religion of Ximenes, Borromeo,\nand Pascal, is so overlaid? Who can but feel sorrow, when its devout and\nearnest defenders so mistake its genius and its capabilities? We\nEnglishmen like manliness, openness, consistency, truth. Rome will never\ngain on us, till she learns these virtues, and uses them; and then she\n_may_ gain us, but it will be by ceasing to be what we now mean by Rome,\nby having a right, not to 'have dominion over our faith,' but to gain\nand possess our affections in the bonds of the gospel. Till she ceases\nto be what she practically is, a union is impossible between her and\nEngland; but, if she does reform, (and who can presume to say that so\nlarge a part of Christendom never can?) then it will be our Church's\nduty at once to join in communion with the continental Churches,\nwhatever politicians at home may say to it, and whatever steps the civil\npower may take in consequence. And though we may not live to see that\nday, at 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 the\ngospel, and be one as we once were one. It was most touching news to be\ntold, as we were lately, that Christians on the Continent were praying\ntogether for the spiritual well-being of England. May they gain light,\nwhile they aim at unity, and grow in faith while they manifest their\nlove! We too have our duties to them; not of reviling, not of\nslandering, not of hating, though political interests require it; but\nthe duty of loving brethren still more abundantly in spirit, whose\nfaces, for our sins and their sins, we are not allowed to see in the\nflesh.\"\n\nNo one ought to indulge in insinuations; it certainly diminishes my\nright to complain of slanders uttered against myself, when, as in this\npassage, I had already spoken in disparagement of the controversialists\nof that religious body, to which I myself now belong.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nI have thus put together, as well as I can, what has to be said about my\ngeneral state of mind from the autumn of 1839 to the summer of 1841;\nand, having done so, I go on to narrate how my new misgivings affected\nmy conduct, and my relations towards the Anglican Church.\n\nWhen I got back to Oxford in October, 1839, after the visits which I had\nbeen paying, it so happened, there had been, in my absence, occurrences\nof an awkward character, compromising me both with my Bishop and also\nwith the authorities of the University; and this drew my attention at\nonce to the state of the Movement party there, and made me very anxious\nfor the future. In the spring of the year, as has been seen in the\nArticle analyzed above, I had spoken of the excesses which were to be\nfound among persons commonly included in it:--at that time I thought\nlittle of such an evil, but the new views, which had come on me during\nthe Long Vacation, on the one hand made me comprehend it, and on the\nother took away my power of effectually meeting it. A firm and powerful\ncontrol was necessary to keep men straight; I never had a strong wrist,\nbut at the very time, when it was most needed, the reins had broken in\nmy hands. With an anxious presentiment on my mind of the upshot of the\nwhole inquiry, which it was almost impossible for me to conceal from men\nwho saw me day by day, who heard my familiar conversation, who came\nperhaps for the express purpose of pumping me, and having a categorical\n_yes_ or _no_ to their questions,--how could I expect to say any thing\nabout my actual, positive, present belief, which would be sustaining or\nconsoling to such persons as were haunted already by doubts of their\nown? Nay, how could I, with satisfaction to myself, analyze my own mind,\nand say what I held and what I did not hold? or how could I say with\nwhat limitations, shades of difference, or degrees of belief, I still\nheld that body of Anglican opinions which I had openly professed and\ntaught? how could I deny or assert this point or that, without injustice\nto the new light, in which the whole evidence for those old opinions\npresented 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 in\nthe Dublin Review; and, if it had affected me, it was not wonderful,\nthat it affected others also. As to myself, I felt no kind of certainty\nthat the argument in it was conclusive. Taking it at the worst, granting\nthat the Anglican Church had not the Note of Catholicity; yet there were\nmany Notes of the Church. Some belonged to one age or place, some to\nanother. Bellarmine had reckoned Temporal Prosperity among the Notes of\nthe Church; but the Roman Church had not any great popularity, wealth,\nglory, power, or prospects, in the nineteenth century. It was not at all\ncertain as yet, even that we had not the Note of Catholicity; but, if\nnot this, we had others. My first business then, was to examine this\nquestion carefully, and see, whether a great deal could not be said\nafter all for the Anglican Church, in spite of its acknowledged\nshort-comings. This I did in an Article \"on the Catholicity of the\nEnglish Church,\" which appeared in the British Critic of January, 1840.\nAs to my personal distress on the point, I think it had gone by February\n21st in that year, for I wrote then to Mr. Bowden about the important\nArticle in the Dublin, thus: \"It made a great impression here [Oxford];\nand, I say what of course I would only say to such as yourself, it made\nme for 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 anticipating its effect upon others.\n\nBut, secondly, the great stumbling-block lay in the 39 Articles. It was\nurged that here was a positive Note _against_ Anglicanism:--Anglicanism\nclaimed to hold, that the Church of England was nothing else than a\ncontinuation in this country, (as the Church of Rome might be in France\nor Spain,) of that one Church of which in old times Athanasius and\nAugustine were members. But, if so, the doctrine must be the same; the\ndoctrine of the Old Church must live and speak in Anglican formularies,\nin the 39 Articles. Did it? Yes, it did; that is what I maintained; it\ndid in substance, in a true sense. Man had done his worst to disfigure,\nto mutilate, the old Catholic Truth; but there it was, in spite of them,\nin the Articles still. It was there,--but this must be shown. It was a\nmatter of life and death to us to show it. And I believed that it could\nbe shown; I considered that those grounds of justification, which I gave\nabove, when I was speaking of Tract 90, were sufficient for the purpose;\nand therefore\n\nI set about showing it at once. This was in March, 1840, when I went up\nto Littlemore. And, as it was a matter of life and death with us, all\nrisks must be run to show it. When the attempt was actually made, I had\ngot reconciled to the prospect of it, and had no apprehensions as to the\nexperiment; but in 1840, while my purpose was honest, and my grounds of\nreason satisfactory, I did nevertheless recognize that I was engaged in\nan _experimentum crucis_. I have no doubt that then I acknowledged to\nmyself that it would be a trial of the Anglican Church, which it had\nnever undergone before,--not that the Catholic sense of the Articles had\nnot been held or at least suffered by their framers and promulgators,\nnot that it was not implied in the teaching of Andrewes or Beveridge,\nbut that it had never been publicly recognized, while the interpretation\nof the day was Protestant and exclusive. I observe also, that, though my\nTract was an experiment, it was, as I said at the time, \"no _feeler_\";\nthe event showed this; for, when my principle was not granted, I did not\ndraw back, but gave up. I would not hold office in a Church which would\nnot allow my sense of the Articles. My tone was, \"This is necessary for\nus, and have it we must and will, and, if it tends to bring men to look\nless bitterly on the Church of Rome, so much the better.\"\n\nThis then was the second work to which I set myself; though when I got\nto Littlemore, other things interfered to prevent my accomplishing it at\nthe moment. I had in mind to remove all such obstacles as lay in the way\nof holding the Apostolic and Catholic character of the Anglican\nteaching; to assert the right of all who chose, to say in the face of\nday, \"Our Church teaches the Primitive Ancient faith.\" I did not conceal\nthis: in Tract 90, it is put forward as the first principle of all, \"It\nis a duty which we owe both to the Catholic Church, and to our own, to\ntake our reformed confessions in the most Catholic sense they will\nadmit: we have no duties towards their framers.\" And still more\npointedly in my Letter, explanatory of the Tract, addressed to Dr. Jelf,\nI say: \"The only peculiarity of the view I advocate, if I must so call\nit, is this--that whereas it is usual at this day to make the\n_particular belief of their writers_ their true interpretation, I would\nmake the _belief of the Catholic Church such_. That is, as it is often\nsaid that infants are regenerated in Baptism, not on the faith of their\nparents, but of the Church, so in like manner I would say that the\nArticles are received, not in the sense of their framers, but (as far as\nthe wording will admit or any ambiguity requires it) in the one Catholic\nsense.\"\n\nA third measure which I distinctly contemplated, was the resignation of\nSt. Mary's, whatever became of the question of the 39 Articles; and as a\nfirst step I meditated a retirement to Littlemore. Littlemore was an\nintegral part of St. Mary's Parish, and between two and three miles\ndistant from Oxford. I had built a Church there several years before;\nand I went there to pass the Lent of 1840, and gave myself up to\nteaching in the Parish School, and practising the choir. At the same\ntime, I had in view a monastic house there. I bought ten acres of ground\nand began planting; but this great design was never carried out. I\nmention it, because it shows how little I had really the idea at that\ntime of ever leaving the Anglican Church. That I contemplated as early\nas 1839 the further step of giving up St. Mary's, appears from a letter\nwhich I wrote in October, 1840, to Mr. Keble, the friend whom it was\nmost natural 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 give\nup St. Mary's, but I am no fit judge in the matter. I cannot ascertain\naccurately my own impressions and convictions, which are the basis of\nthe difficulty, and though you cannot of course do this for me, yet you\nmay help me generally, and perhaps supersede the necessity of my going\nby 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 into\ntheir spiritual state. I have no personal, no pastoral acquaintance with\nthem. To very few have I any opportunity of saying a religious word.\nWhatever influence I exert on them is precisely that which I may be\nexerting on persons out of my parish. In my excuse I am accustomed to\nsay to myself that I am not adapted to get on with them, while others\nare. On the other hand, I am conscious that by means of my position at\nSt. Mary's, I do exert a considerable influence on the University,\nwhether on Under-graduates or Graduates. It seems, then, on the whole\nthat I am using St. Mary's, to the neglect of its direct duties, for\nobjects not belonging to it; I am converting a parochial charge into a\nsort of University office.\n\n\"I think I may say truly that I have begun scarcely any plan but for the\nsake of my parish, but every one has turned, independently of me, into\nthe direction of the University. I began Saints'-days Services, daily\nServices, and Lectures in Adam de Brome's Chapel, for my parishioners;\nbut they have not come to them. In consequence I dropped the last\nmentioned, having, while it lasted, been naturally led to direct it to\nthe instruction of those who did come, instead of those who did not. The\nWeekly Communion, I believe, I did begin for the 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 Sermons,\nhave 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 spring\nof preaching in my parish pulpit, gets up and preaches against doctrine\nwith which I am in good measure identified. No plainer proof can be\ngiven of the feeling in these quarters, than the absurd myth, now a\nsecond time put forward, 'that Vice-Chancellors cannot be got to take\nthe office on account of Puseyism.'\n\n\"But further than this, I cannot disguise from myself that my preaching\nis not calculated to defend that system of religion which has been\nreceived for 300 years, and of which the Heads of Houses are the\nlegitimate maintainers in this place. They exclude me, as far as may be,\nfrom the University Pulpit; and, though I never have preached strong\ndoctrine in it, they do so rightly, so far as this, that they understand\nthat my sermons are calculated to undermine things established. I cannot\ndisguise from myself that they are. No one will deny that most of my\nsermons are on moral subjects, not doctrinal; still I am leading my\nhearers to the Primitive Church, if you will, but not to the Church of\nEngland. Now, ought one to be disgusting the minds of young men with the\nreceived religion, in the exercise of a sacred office, yet without a\ncommission, and against the wish of their guides and governors?\n\n\"But this is not all. I fear I must allow that, whether I will or no, I\nam disposing them towards Rome. First, because Rome is the only\nrepresentative of the Primitive Church besides ourselves; in proportion\nthen as they are loosened from the one, they will go to the other. Next,\nbecause many doctrines which I have held have far greater, or their only\nscope, in the Roman system. And, moreover, if, as is not unlikely, we\nhave in process of time heretical Bishops or teachers among us, an evil\nwhich _ipso facto_ infects the whole community to which they belong, and\nif, again (what there are at this moment symptoms of), there be a\nmovement in the English Roman Catholics to break the alliance of\nO'Connell and of Exeter Hall, strong temptations will be placed in the\nway of individuals, already imbued with a tone of thought congenial to\nRome, to join her Communion.\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 myself\nas cogent as ever, but men go by their sympathies, not by argument; and\nif I feel the force of this influence myself, who bow to the arguments,\nwhy may not others still more, who never have in the same degree\nadmitted the arguments?\n\n\"Nor can I counteract the danger by preaching or writing against Rome. I\nseem to myself almost to have shot my last arrow in the Article on\nEnglish Catholicity. It must be added, that the very circumstance that I\nhave committed myself against Rome has the effect of setting to sleep\npeople suspicious about me, which is painful now that I begin to have\nsuspicions about myself. I mentioned my general difficulty to Rogers a\nyear since, than whom I know no one of a more fine and accurate\nconscience, and it was his spontaneous idea that I should give up St.\nMary's, if my feelings continued. I mentioned it again to him lately,\nand he did not reverse his opinion, only expressed great reluctance to\nbelieve it must be so.\"\n\nMr. Keble's judgment was in favour of my retaining my living; at least\nfor the present; what weighed with me most was his saying, \"You must\nconsider, whether your retiring either from the Pastoral Care only, or\nfrom writing and printing and editing in the cause, would not be a sort\nof scandalous thing, unless it were done very warily. It would be said,\n'You see he can go on no longer with the Church of England, except in\nmere Lay Communion;' or people might say you repented of the cause\naltogether. Till you see [your way to mitigate, if not remove this evil]\nI certainly should advise you to stay.\" I answered 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 it,\ndirectly it is allowed to be lawful. The following considerations have\nmuch reconciled my feelings to your conclusion.\n\n\"1. I do not think that we have yet made fair trial how much the English\nChurch will bear. I know it is a hazardous experiment,--like proving\ncannon. Yet we must not take it for granted that the metal will burst in\nthe operation. It has borne at various times, not to say at this time, a\ngreat infusion of Catholic truth without damage. As to the result, viz.\nwhether this process will not approximate the whole English Church, as a\nbody, to Rome, that is nothing to us. For what we know, it may be the\nprovidential means of uniting the whole Church in one, without fresh\nschismatizing or use of private judgment.\"\n\nHere I observe, that, what was contemplated was the bursting of the\n_Catholicity_ of the Anglican Church, that is, my _subjective idea_ of\nthat Church. Its bursting would not hurt her with the world, but would\nbe a discovery that she was purely and essentially Protestant, and would\nbe really the \"hoisting of the engineer with his own petar.\" And this\nwas the result. I continue:--\n\n\"2. Say, that I move sympathies for Rome: in the same sense does Hooker,\nTaylor, Bull, &c. Their _arguments_ may be against Rome, but the\nsympathies they raise must be towards Rome, _so far_ as Rome maintains\ntruths which our Church does not teach or enforce. Thus it is a question\nof _degree_ between our divines and me. I may, if so be, go further; I\nmay raise sympathies _more_; but I am but urging minds in the same\ndirection as they do. I am doing just the very thing which all our\ndoctors have ever been doing. In short, would not Hooker, if Vicar of\nSt. Mary's, be in my difficulty?\"--Here it may be objected, that Hooker\ncould preach against Rome and I could not; but I doubt whether he could\nhave preached effectively against Transubstantiation better than I,\nthough neither he nor I held that doctrine.\n\n\"3. Rationalism is the great evil of the day. May not I consider my post\nat St. Mary's as a place of protest against it? I am more certain that\nthe Protestant [spirit], which I oppose, leads to infidelity, than that\nwhich I recommend, leads to Rome. Who knows what the state of the\nUniversity may be, as regards Divinity Professors in a few years hence?\nAny how, a great battle may be coming on, of which Milman's book is a\nsort of earnest. The whole of _our_ day may be a battle with this\nspirit. May we not leave to another age _its own_ evil,--to settle the\nquestion 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\nBritish Critic, in the following July, which were carried into effect at\nthat date.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSuch was about my state of mind, on the publication of Tract 90 in\nFebruary 1841. I was indeed in prudence taking steps towards eventually\nwithdrawing from St. Mary's, and I was not confident about my permanent\nadhesion to the Anglican creed; but I was in no actual perplexity or\ntrouble of mind. Nor did the immense commotion consequent upon the\npublication of the Tract unsettle me again; for I fancied I had\nweathered the storm, as far as the Bishops were concerned: the Tract had\nnot been condemned: that was the great point, and I made much of it.\n\nTo illustrate my feelings during this trial, I will make extracts from\nmy letters addressed severally to Mr. Bowden and another friend, which\nhave come into my possession.\n\n1. March 15.--\"The Heads, I believe, have just done a violent act: they\nhave said that my interpretation of the Articles is an _evasion_. Do not\nthink that this 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, not\naccording to the meaning of the writers, but (as far as the wording will\nadmit) according to the sense of the Catholic Church.\"\n\n2. March 25.--\"I do trust I shall make no false step, and hope my\nfriends will pray for me to this effect. If, as you say, a destiny hangs\nover us, a single false step may ruin all. I am very well and\ncomfortable; but we are not yet out of the wood.\"\n\n3. April 1.--\"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 the\npress: on Wednesday it was out: and to-day [Thursday] it is in London.\n\n\"I trust that things are smoothing now; and that we have made a _great\nstep_ is certain. It is not right to boast, till I am clear out of the\nwood, i.e. till I know how the Letter is received in London. You know, I\nsuppose, that I am to stop the Tracts; but you will see in the Letter,\nthough I speak _quite_ what I feel, yet I have managed to take out on\n_my_ side my snubbing's worth. And this makes me anxious how it will be\nreceived 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\n4. April 4.--\"Your letter of this morning was an exceedingly great\ngratification to me; and it is confirmed, I am thankful to say, by the\nopinion of others. The Bishop sent me a message that my Letter had his\nunqualified approbation; and since that, he has sent me a note to the\nsame effect, only going more into detail. It is most pleasant too to my\nfeelings, to have such a testimony to the substantial truth and\nimportance of No. 90, as I have had from so many of my friends, from\nthose who, from their cautious turn of mind, I was least sanguine about.\nI have not had one misgiving myself about it throughout; and I do trust\nthat what has happened will be overruled to subserve the great cause we\nall have at heart.\"\n\n5. May 9.--\"The Bishops are very desirous of hushing the matter up: and\nI certainly have done my utmost to co-operate with them, on the\nunderstanding that the Tract is not to be withdrawn or condemned.\"\n\nUpon this occasion several Catholics wrote to me; I answered one of my\ncorrespondents in the same tone:--\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 of\nwhat we hold to be Catholic truth would suffer thereby. My letter to my\nBishop has, I trust, had the effect of bringing the preponderating\n_authority_ of the Church on our side. No stopping of the Tracts can,\nhumanly speaking, stop the spread of the opinions which they have\ninculcated.\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 that\na certain Tract is 'objectionable,' no reason being stated, I have no\nintention whatever of yielding any one point which I hold on conviction;\nand that the authorities of the Church know full well.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn the summer of 1841, I found myself at Littlemore without any harass\nor anxiety on my mind. I had determined to put aside all controversy,\nand I set myself down to my translation of St. Athanasius; but, between\nJuly and November, I received three blows which 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 the\nvery same phenomenon, in a far bolder shape, which I had found in the\nMonophysite. I had not observed it in 1832. Wonderful that this should\ncome upon me! I had not sought it out; I was reading and writing in my\nown line of study, far from the controversies of the day, on what is\ncalled a \"metaphysical\" subject; but I saw clearly, that in the history\nof Arianism, the pure Arians were the Protestants, the semi-Arians were\nthe Anglicans, and that Rome now was what it was then. The truth lay,\nnot with the _Via Media_, but with what was called \"the extreme party.\"\nAs I am not writing a work of controversy, I need not enlarge upon the\nargument; I have said something on the subject in a Volume, from which I\nhave already quoted.\n\n2. I was in the misery of this new unsettlement, when a second blow came\nupon me. The Bishops one after another began to charge against me. It\nwas a formal, determinate movement. This was the real \"understanding;\"\nthat, on which I had acted on the first appearance of Tract 90, had come\nto nought. I think the words, which had then been used to me, were, that\n\"perhaps two or three of them might think it necessary to say something\nin their charges;\" but by this time they had tided over the difficulty\nof the Tract, and there was no one to enforce the \"understanding.\" They\nwent on in this way, directing charges at me, for three whole years. I\nrecognized it as a condemnation; it was the only one that was in their\npower. At first I intended to protest; but I gave up the thought in\ndespair.\n\nOn October 17th, I wrote thus to a friend: \"I suppose it will be\nnecessary in some shape or other to re-assert Tract 90; else, it will\nseem, after these Bishops' Charges, as if it were silenced, which it has\nnot been, nor do I intend it should be. I wish to keep quiet; but if\nBishops speak, I will speak too. If the view were silenced, I could not\nremain in the Church, nor could many others; and therefore, since it is\n_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 to\nask, \"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 the\nTimes, I do not impute blame to them, but to those who, instead of\nacknowledging such Anglican principles of theology and ecclesiastical\npolity as they contain, set themselves to oppose them. Whatever be the\ninfluence of the Tracts, great or small, they may become just as\npowerful for Rome, if our Church refuses them, as they would be for our\nChurch if she accepted them. If our rulers speak either against the\nTracts, or not at all, if any number of them, not only do not favour,\nbut even do not suffer the principles contained in them, it is plain\nthat our members may easily be persuaded either to give up those\nprinciples, or to give up the Church. If this state of things goes on, I\nmournfully prophesy, not one or two, but many secessions to the Church\nof 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 conclude.\n\nI think I am right in saying that it had been long a desire with the\nPrussian Court to introduce Episcopacy into the new Evangelical\nReligion, which was intended in that country to embrace both the\nLutheran and Calvinistic bodies. I almost think I heard of the project,\nwhen I was at Rome in 1833, at the Hotel of the Prussian Minister, M.\nBunsen, who was most hospitable and kind, as to other English visitors,\nso also to my friends and myself. The idea of Episcopacy, as the\nPrussian king understood it, was, I suppose, 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 time\nof the publication of Tract 90, M. Bunsen and the then Archbishop of\nCanterbury were taking steps for its execution, by appointing and\nconsecrating a Bishop for Jerusalem. Jerusalem, it would seem, was\nconsidered a safe place for the experiment; it was too far from Prussia\nto awaken the susceptibilities of any party at home; if the project\nfailed, it failed without harm to any one; and, if it succeeded, it gave\nProtestantism a _status_ in the East, which, in association with the\nMonophysite or Jacobite and the Nestorian bodies, formed a political\ninstrument for England, parallel to that which Russia had in the Greek\nChurch, 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 to\ntake 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 with\nforming a league with the Mussulman against Greeks and Romans together.\"\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 made\nfor the consecration of \"British subjects, or the subjects or citizens\nof any foreign state, to be Bishops in any foreign country, whether such\nforeign subjects or citizens be or be not subjects or citizens of the\ncountry in which they are to act, and ... without requiring such of them\nas may be subjects or citizens of any foreign kingdom or state to take\nthe oaths of allegiance and supremacy, and the oath of due obedience to\nthe Archbishop for the time being\" ... also \"that such Bishop or\nBishops, so consecrated, may exercise, within such limits, as may from\ntime to time be assigned for that purpose in such foreign countries by\nher Majesty, spiritual jurisdiction over the ministers of British\ncongregations of the United Church of England and Ireland, and over\n_such other Protestant_ Congregations, as may be desirous of placing\nthemselves under 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 not\ncloser than I believed the Anglican formularies would allow, they were\non the other hand, fraternizing, by their act or by their sufferance,\nwith Protestant bodies, and allowing them to put themselves under an\nAnglican Bishop, without any renunciation of their errors or regard to\ntheir due reception of baptism and confirmation; while there was great\nreason to suppose that the said Bishop was intended to make converts\nfrom the orthodox Greeks, and the schismatical Oriental bodies, by means\nof the influence of England. This was the third blow, which finally\nshattered my faith in the Anglican Church. That Church was not only\nforbidding any sympathy or concurrence with the Church of Rome, but it\nactually was courting an intercommunion with Protestant Prussia and the\nheresy of the Orientals. The Anglican Church might have the Apostolical\nsuccession, as had the Monophysites; but such acts as were in progress\nled me to the gravest suspicion, not that it would soon cease to be a\nChurch, but that, since the 16th century, it had never been a Church all\nalong.\n\nOn October 12th, I thus wrote to Mr. Bowden:--\"We have not a single\nAnglican in Jerusalem; so we are sending a Bishop to _make_ a communion,\nnot to govern our own people. Next, the excuse is, that there are\nconverted Anglican Jews there who require a Bishop; I am told there are\nnot half-a-dozen. But for _them_ the Bishop is sent out, and for them he\nis a Bishop of the _circumcision_\" (I think he was a converted Jew, who\nboasted of his Jewish descent), \"against the Epistle to the Galatians\npretty nearly. Thirdly, for the sake of Prussia, he is to take under him\nall the foreign Protestants who will come; and the political advantages\nwill be so great, from the influence of England, that there is no doubt\nthey _will_ come. They are to sign the Confession of Augsburg, and there\nis nothing to show that they hold the doctrine of Baptismal\nRegeneration.\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 of\nplace in _me_ to agitate, having been in a way silenced; but the\nArchbishop is really doing most grave work, of which we cannot see the\nend.\"\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 giving\nyou pain, and I know that my present subject does not specially concern\nyour Lordship; yet, after a great deal of anxious thought, I lay before\nyou the enclosed Protest.\n\n\"Your Lordship will observe that I am not asking for any notice of it,\nunless you think that I ought to receive one. I do this very serious act\nin 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? That\nArticle of the Creed, I need hardly observe to your Lordship, is of such\nconstraining power, that, if _we_ will not claim it, and use it for\nourselves, _others_ will use it in their own behalf against us. Men who\nlearn whether by means of documents or measures, whether from the\nstatements or the acts of persons in authority, that our communion is\nnot a branch of the One Church, I foresee with much grief, will be\ntempted to look out for that Church elsewhere.\n\n\"It is to me a subject of great dismay, that, as far as the Church has\nlately spoken out, on the subject of the opinions which I and others\nhold, those opinions are, not merely not _sanctioned_ (for that I do not\nask), 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. Body.\nWith every feeling of reverent attachment to your Lordship,\n\n\"I am, &c.\"\n\nPROTEST.\n\n\"Whereas the Church of England has a claim on the allegiance of Catholic\nbelievers only on the ground of her own claim to be considered a branch\nof the Catholic Church:\n\n\"And whereas the recognition of heresy, indirect as well as direct, goes\nfar to destroy such claim in the case of any religious body:\n\n\"And whereas to admit maintainers of heresy to communion, without formal\nrenunciation of their errors, goes far towards recognizing the same:\n\n\"And whereas Lutheranism and Calvinism are heresies, repugnant to\nScripture, springing up three centuries since, and anathematized by East\nas 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 provisions\nof an Act made in the last session of Parliament to amend an Act made in\nthe 26th year of the reign of his Majesty King George the Third,\nintituled, 'An Act to empower the Archbishop of Canterbury, or the\nArchbishop of York for the time being, to consecrate to the office of\nBishop persons being subjects or citizens of countries out of his\nMajesty's dominions'), dispensing at the same time, not in particular\ncases and accidentally, but as if on principle and universally, with any\nabjuration of error on the part of such congregations, and with any\nreconciliation to the Church on the part of the presiding Bishop;\nthereby giving some sort of formal recognition to the doctrines which\nsuch congregations maintain:\n\n\"And whereas the dioceses in England are connected together by so close\nan intercommunion, that what is done by authority in one, immediately\naffects the rest:\n\n\"On these grounds, I in my place, being a priest of the English Church\nand Vicar of St. Mary the Virgin's, Oxford, by way of relieving my\nconscience, do hereby solemnly protest against the measure aforesaid,\nand disown it, as removing our Church from her present ground and\ntending to her disorganization.\n\n\"John Henry Newman.\n\n\"November 11, 1841.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nLooking back two years afterwards on the above-mentioned and other acts,\non the part of Anglican Ecclesiastical authorities, I observed: \"Many a\nman might have held an abstract theory about the Catholic Church, to\nwhich it was difficult to adjust the Anglican,--might have admitted a\nsuspicion, or even painful doubts about the latter,--yet never have been\nimpelled onwards, had our Rulers preserved the quiescence of former\nyears; but it is the corroboration of a present, living, and energetic\nheterodoxy, that realizes and makes such doubts practical; it has been\nthe recent speeches and acts of authorities, who had so long been\ntolerant of Protestant error, which has given to inquiry and to theory\nits force and its edge.\"\n\nAs to the project of a Jerusalem Bishopric, I never heard of any good or\nharm it has ever done, except what it has done for me; which many think\na great misfortune, and I one of the greatest of mercies. It brought me\non to the beginning of the end.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nHISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS FROM 1841 TO 1845.\n\n\n\u00a7 1.\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 only\nby degrees. I introduce what I have to say with this remark, by way of\naccounting for the character of this remaining portion of my narrative.\nA death-bed has scarcely a history; it is a tedious decline, with\nseasons of rallying and seasons of falling back; and since the end is\nforeseen, or what is called a matter of time, it has little interest for\nthe reader, especially if he has a kind heart. Moreover, it is a season\nwhen doors are closed and curtains drawn, and when the sick man neither\ncares nor is able to record the stages of his malady. I was in these\ncircumstances, except so far as I was not allowed to die in\npeace,--except so far as friends, who had still a full right to come in\nupon me, and the public world which had not, have given a sort of\nhistory to those last four years. But in consequence, my narrative must\nbe in great measure documentary, as I cannot rely on my memory, except\nfor definite particulars, positive or negative. Letters of mine to\nfriends since dead have come into my hands; others have been kindly lent\nme for the occasion; and I have some drafts of others, and some notes\nwhich I made, though I have no strictly personal or continuous memoranda\nto consult, and have unluckily mislaid some valuable papers.\n\nAnd first as to my position in the view of duty; it was this:--1. I had\ngiven up my place in the Movement in my letter to the Bishop of Oxford\nin the spring of 1841; but 2. I could not give up my duties towards the\nmany and various minds who had more or less been brought into it by me;\n3. I expected or intended gradually to fall back into Lay Communion; 4.\nI never contemplated leaving the Church of England; 5. I could not hold\noffice in its service, if I were not allowed to hold the Catholic sense\nof the Articles; 6. I could not go to Rome, while she suffered honours\nto be paid to the Blessed Virgin and the Saints which I thought in my\nconscience to be incompatible with the Supreme, Incommunicable Glory of\nthe One Infinite and Eternal; 7. I desired a union with Rome under\nconditions, Church with Church; 8. I called Littlemore my Torres Vedras,\nand thought that some day we might advance again within the Anglican\nChurch, as we had been forced to retire; 9. I kept back all persons who\nwere disposed to go to Rome with all my might.\n\nAnd I kept them back for three or four reasons; 1. because what I could\nnot in conscience do myself, I could not suffer them to do; 2. because I\nthought that in various cases they were acting under excitement; 3.\nbecause I had duties to my Bishop and to the Anglican Church; and 4, in\nsome cases, because I had received from their Anglican parents or\nsuperiors direct charge of them.\n\nThis was my view of my duty from the end of 1841, to my resignation of\nSt. Mary's in the autumn of 1843. And now I shall relate my view, during\nthat time, of the state of the controversy between the Churches.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAs soon as I saw the hitch in the Anglican argument, during my course of\nreading in the summer of 1839, I began to look about, as I have said,\nfor some ground which might supply a controversial basis for my need.\nThe difficulty in question had affected my view both of Antiquity and\nCatholicity; for, while the history of St. Leo showed me that the\ndeliberate and eventual consent of the great body of the Church ratified\na doctrinal decision as a part of revealed truth, it also showed that\nthe rule of Antiquity was not infringed, though a doctrine had not been\npublicly recognized as so revealed, till centuries after the time of the\nApostles. Thus, whereas the Creeds tell us that the Church is One, Holy,\nCatholic, and Apostolic, I could not prove that the Anglican communion\nwas an integral part of the One Church, on the ground of its teaching\nbeing Apostolic or Catholic, without reasoning in favour of what are\ncommonly called the Roman corruptions; and I could not defend our\nseparation from Rome and her faith without using arguments prejudicial\nto those great doctrines concerning our Lord, which are the very\nfoundation of the Christian religion. The Via Media was an impossible\nidea; it was what I had called \"standing on one leg;\" and it was\nnecessary, if my old issue of the controversy was to be retained, to go\nfurther either one way or the other.\n\nAccordingly, I abandoned that old ground and took another. I\ndeliberately quitted the old Anglican ground as untenable; though I did\nnot do so all at once, but as I became more and more convinced of the\nstate of the case. The Jerusalem Bishopric was the ultimate condemnation\nof the old theory of the Via Media:--if its establishment did nothing\nelse, at least it demolished the sacredness of diocesan rights. If\nEngland could be in Palestine, Rome might be in England. But its bearing\nupon the controversy, as I have shown in the foregoing chapter, was much\nmore serious than this technical ground. From that time the Anglican\nChurch was, in my mind, either not a normal portion of that One Church\nto which the promises were made, or at least in an abnormal state; and\nfrom that time I said boldly (as I did in my Protest, and as indeed I\nhad even intimated in my Letter to the Bishop of Oxford), that the\nChurch in which I found myself had no claim on me, except on condition\nof its being a portion of the One Catholic Communion, and that that\ncondition must ever be borne in mind as a practical matter, and had to\nbe distinctly proved. All this is not inconsistent with my saying above\nthat, at this time, I had no thought of leaving the Church of England;\nbecause I felt some of my old objections against Rome as strongly as\never. I had no right, I had no leave, to act against my conscience. That\nwas a higher rule than any argument 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, without\nentering into comparisons, that we had it in such a sufficient sense as\nto reconcile us to our position, and to supply full evidence, and a\nclear direction, on the point of practical duty. We had the Note of\nLife,--not any sort of life, not such only as can come of nature, but a\nsupernatural Christian life, which could only come directly from above.\nThus, in my Article in the British Critic, to which I have so often\nreferred, in January, 1840 (before the time of Tract 90), I said of the\nAnglican Church that \"she has the note of possession, the note of\nfreedom from party titles, the note of life,--a tough life and a\nvigorous; she has ancient descent, unbroken continuance, agreement in\ndoctrine with the Ancient Church.\" Presently I go on to speak of\nsanctity: \"Much as Roman Catholics may denounce us at present as\nschismatical, they could not resist us if the Anglican communion had but\nthat one note of the Church upon it,--sanctity. The Church of the day\n[4th century] could not resist Meletius; his enemies were fairly\novercome by him, by his meekness and holiness, which melted the most\njealous of them.\" And I continue, \"We are almost content to say to\nRomanists, account us not yet as a branch of the Catholic Church, though\nwe be a branch, till we are like a branch, provided that when we do\nbecome like a branch, then you consent to acknowledge us,\" &c. And so I\nwas led on in the Article to that sharp attack on English Catholics, for\ntheir shortcomings as regards this Note, a good portion of which I have\nalready quoted in another place. It is there that I speak of the great\nscandal which I took at their political, social, and controversial\nbearing; and this was a second reason why I fell back upon the Note of\nSanctity, because it took me away from the necessity of making any\nattack upon the doctrines of the Roman Church, nay, from the\nconsideration of her popular beliefs, and brought me upon a ground on\nwhich I felt I could not make a mistake; for what is a higher guide for\nus in speculation and in practice, than that conscience of right and\nwrong, of truth and falsehood, those sentiments of what is decorous,\nconsistent, and noble, which our Creator has made a part of our original\nnature? Therefore I felt I could not be wrong in attacking what I\nfancied was a fact,--the unscrupulousness, the deceit, and the\nintriguing spirit of the agents and 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 connexion with Tract 90. I say in its\nIntroduction, \"The writer can never be party to forcing the opinions or\nprojects of one school upon another; religious changes should be the act\nof the whole body. No good can come of a change which is not a\ndevelopment of feelings springing up freely and calmly within the bosom\nof the whole body itself; every change in religion\" must be \"attended by\ndeep repentance; changes\" must be \"nurtured in mutual love; we cannot\nagree without a supernatural influence;\" we must come \"together to God\nto do for us what we cannot do for ourselves.\" In my Letter to the\nBishop I said, \"I have set myself against suggestions for considering\nthe differences between ourselves and the foreign Churches with a view\nto their adjustment.\" (I meant in the way of negotiation, conference,\nagitation, or the like.) \"Our business is with ourselves,--to make\nourselves more holy, more self-denying, more primitive, more worthy of\nour high calling. To be anxious for a composition of differences is to\nbegin at the end. Political reconciliations are but outward and hollow,\nand fallacious. And till Roman Catholics renounce political efforts, and\nmanifest in their public measures the light of holiness and truth,\nperpetual war is our only prospect.\"\n\nAccording to this theory, a religious body is part of the One Catholic\nand Apostolic Church, if it has the succession and the creed of the\nApostles, with the note of holiness of life; and there is much in such a\nview to approve itself to the direct common sense and practical habits\nof an Englishman. However, with the events consequent upon Tract 90, I\nsunk my theory to a lower level. For what could be said in apology, when\nthe Bishops and the people of my Church, not only did not suffer, but\nactually rejected primitive Catholic doctrine, and tried to eject from\ntheir communion all who held it? after the Bishops' charges? after the\nJerusalem \"abomination[8]?\" Well, this could be said; still we were not\nnothing: we could not be as if we never had been a Church; we were\n\"Samaria.\" This then was that lower level on which I placed myself, and\nall who felt with me, at the end of 1841.\n\n[8] Matt. xxiv. 15.\n\nTo bring out this view was the purpose of Four Sermons preached at St.\nMary's in December of that year. Hitherto I had not introduced the\nexciting topics of the day into the Pulpit[9]; on this occasion I did. I\ndid so, for the moment was urgent; there was great unsettlement of mind\namong us, in consequence of those same events which had unsettled me.\nOne special anxiety, very obvious, which was coming on me now, was, that\nwhat was \"one man's meat was another man's poison.\" I had said even of\nTract 90, \"It was addressed to one set of persons, and has been used and\ncommented on by another;\" still more was it true now, that whatever I\nwrote for the service of those whom I knew to be in trouble of mind,\nwould become on the one hand matter of suspicion and slander in the\nmouths of my opponents, and of distress and surprise to those on the\nother hand, who had no difficulties of faith at all. Accordingly, when I\npublished these Four Sermons at the end of 1843, I introduced them with\na recommendation that none should read them who did not need them. But\nin truth the virtual condemnation of Tract 90, after that the whole\ndifficulty seemed to have been weathered, was an enormous disappointment\nand trial. My Protest also against the Jerusalem Bishopric was an\nunavoidable cause of excitement in the case of many; but it calmed them\ntoo, for the very fact of a Protest was a relief to their impatience.\nAnd so, in like manner, as regards the Four Sermons, of which I speak,\nthough they acknowledged freely the great scandal which was involved in\nthe recent episcopal doings, yet at the same time they might be said to\nbestow upon the multiplied disorders and shortcomings of the Anglican\nChurch a sort of place in the Revealed Dispensation, and an intellectual\nposition in the controversy, and the dignity of a great principle, for\nunsettled minds to take and use,--a principle which might teach them to\nrecognize their own consistency, and to be reconciled to themselves, and\nwhich might absorb and dry up a multitude of their grudgings,\ndiscontents, misgivings, and questionings, and lead the way to humble,\nthankful, and tranquil thoughts;--and this was the effect which\ncertainly it produced on myself.\n\n[9] Vide Note C. _Sermon on Wisdom and Innocence._\n\nThe point of these Sermons is, that, in spite of the rigid character of\nthe Jewish law, the formal and literal force of its precepts, and the\nmanifest schism, and worse than schism, of the Ten Tribes, yet in fact\nthey were still recognized as a people by the Divine Mercy; that the\ngreat prophets Elias and Eliseus were sent to them; and not only so, but\nwere sent to preach to them and reclaim them, without any intimation\nthat they must be reconciled to the line of David and the Aaronic\npriesthood, or go up to Jerusalem to worship. They were not in the\nChurch, yet they had the means of grace and the hope of acceptance with\ntheir Maker. The application of all this to the Anglican Church was\nimmediate;--whether, under the circumstances, a man could assume or\nexercise ministerial functions, or not, might not clearly appear (though\nit must be remembered that England had the Apostolic Priesthood, whereas\nIsrael had no priesthood at all), but so far was clear, that there was\nno call at all for an Anglican to leave his Church for Rome, though he\ndid not believe his own to be part of the One Church:--and for this\nreason, because it was a fact that the kingdom of Israel was cut off\nfrom the Temple; and yet its subjects, neither in a mass, nor as\nindividuals, neither the multitudes on Mount Carmel, nor the Shunammite\nand her household, had any command given them, though miracles were\ndisplayed before them, to break off from their own people, and to submit\nthemselves to Judah[10].\n\n[10] As I am not writing controversially, I will only here remark upon\nthis argument, that there is a great difference between a command, which\npresupposes physical, material, and political conditions, and one which\nis moral. To go to Jerusalem was a matter of the body, not of the soul.\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 that\nshe was actually within the covenant, or only sufficient to prove that\nshe was at least enjoying extraordinary and uncovenanted mercies,--not\nonly lowered her level in a religious point of view, but weakened her\ncontroversial basis. Its very novelty made it suspicious; and there was\nno guarantee that the process of subsidence might not continue, and that\nit might not end in a submersion. Indeed, to many minds, to say that\nEngland was wrong was even to say that Rome was right; and no ethical or\ncasuistic reasoning whatever could overcome in their case the argument\nfrom prescription and authority. To this objection, as made to my new\nteaching, I could only answer that I did not make my circumstances. I\nfully acknowledged the force and effectiveness of the genuine Anglican\ntheory, and that it was all but proof against the disputants of Rome;\nbut still like Achilles, it had a vulnerable point, and that St. Leo had\nfound it out for me, and that I could not help it;--that, were it not\nfor matter of fact, the theory would be great indeed; it would be\nirresistible, if it were only true. When I became a Catholic, the Editor\nof the Christian Observer, Mr. Wilkes, who had in former days accused\nme, to my indignation, of tending towards Rome, wrote to me to ask,\nwhich of the two was now right, he or I? I answered him in a letter,\npart of which I here insert, as it will serve as a sort of leave-taking\nof the 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 Anglican\nprinciples which I advocated at the date you mention, lead men to the\nChurch of Rome. If I must specify what I mean by 'Anglican principles,'\nI should say, e.g. taking _Antiquity_, not the _existing Church_, as the\noracle of truth; and holding that the _Apostolical Succession_ is a\nsufficient guarantee of Sacramental Grace, _without union with the\nChristian Church throughout the world_. I think these still the firmest,\nstrongest ground against Rome--that is, _if they can be held_\" [as\ntruths or facts.] \"They _have_ been held by many, and are far more\ndifficult to refute in the Roman controversy, than those of any other\nreligious body.\n\n\"For myself, I found _I could not_ hold them. I left them. From the time\nI began to suspect their unsoundness, I ceased to put them forward. When\nI was fairly sure of their unsoundness, I gave up my Living. When I was\nfully confident that the Church of Rome was the only true Church, I\njoined her.\n\n\"I have felt all along that Bp. Bull's theology was the only theology on\nwhich the English Church could stand. I have felt, that opposition to\nthe Church of Rome was _part_ of that theology; and that he who could\nnot protest against the Church of Rome was no true divine in the English\nChurch. I have never said, nor attempted to say, that any one in office\nin the English Church, whether Bishop or incumbent, could be otherwise\nthan in hostility to the Church of Rome.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe _Via Media_ then disappeared for ever, and a Theory, made expressly\nfor the occasion, took its place. I was pleased with my new view. I\nwrote to an intimate friend, Samuel F. Wood, Dec. 13, 1841: \"I think you\nwill give 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 much\nmore definite view of the promised inward Presence of Christ with us in\nthe Sacraments now that the outward notes of it are being removed. And I\nam content to be with Moses in the desert, or with Elijah excommunicated\nfrom the Temple. I say this, putting things at the 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 Anglican\nmyself in general tone in times past, who had stood up for Tract 90\npartly from faith in me, and certainly from generous and kind feeling,\nand had thereby shared an obloquy which was none of theirs, were\nnaturally surprised and offended at a line of argument, novel, and, as\nit appeared to them, wanton, which threw the whole controversy into\nconfusion, stultified my former principles, and substituted, as they\nwould consider, a sort of methodistic self-contemplation, especially\nabhorrent both to my nature and to my past professions, for the plain\nand honest tokens, as they were commonly received, of a divine mission\nin the Anglican Church. They could not tell whither I was going; and\nwere still further annoyed when I persisted in viewing the condemnation\nof Tract 90 by the public and the Bishops as so grave a matter, and when\nI threw about what they considered mysterious hints of \"eventualities,\"\nand would not simply say, \"An Anglican I was born, and an Anglican I\nwill die.\" One of my familiar friends, Mr. Church, who was in the\ncountry at Christmas, 1841-2, reported to me the feeling that prevailed\nabout me; and how I felt towards it will appear in the following letter\nof mine, written in answer:--\n\n\"Oriel, Dec. 24, 1841. Carissime, you cannot tell how sad your account\nof Moberly has made me. His view of the sinfulness of the decrees of\nTrent is as much against union of Churches as against individual\nconversions. To tell the truth, I never have examined those decrees with\nthis object, and have no view; but that is very different from having a\ndeliberate view against them. Could not he say _which_ they are? I\nsuppose Transubstantiation is one. Charles Marriott, though of course he\nwould not like to have it repeated[11], does not scruple at that. I have\nnot my mind clear. Moberly must recollect that Palmer [of Worcester]\nthinks they all bear a Catholic interpretation. For myself, this only I\nsee, that there is indefinitely more in the Fathers against our own\nstate of alienation from Christendom than against the Tridentine\nDecrees.\n\n\"The only thing I can think of,\" [that I can have said of a startling\ncharacter,] \"is this, that there were persons who, if our Church\ncommitted herself to heresy, _sooner_ than think that there was no\nChurch any where, would believe the Roman to be the Church; and\ntherefore would on faith accept what they could not otherwise acquiesce\nin. I suppose, it would be no relief to him to insist upon the\ncircumstance that there is no immediate danger. Individuals can never be\nanswered for of course; but I should think lightly of that man, who, for\nsome act of the Bishops, should all at once leave the Church. Now,\nconsidering how the Clergy really are improving, considering that this\nrow is even making them read the Tracts, is it not possible we may all\nbe in a better state of mind seven years hence to consider these\nmatters? and may we not leave them meanwhile to the will of Providence?\nI _cannot_ believe this work has been of man; God has a right to His own\nwork, to do what He will with it. May we not try to leave it in His\nhands, and be content?\n\n\"If you learn any thing 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 sense\nof the case: then, when the Fathers, and we, say _more_ than their\ncommon sense, they are dreadfully shocked.\n\n\"The Bishop of London has rejected a man, 1. For holding _any_ Sacrifice\nin the Eucharist. 2. The Real Presence. 3. That there is a grace in\nOrdination[12].\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 the\nBishop of Oxford accept them? If so, I should be driven into the Refuge\nfor the Destitute [Littlemore]. But I promise Moberly, I would do my\nutmost to catch all dangerous persons and clap them into confinement\nthere.\"\n\n[11] As things stand now, I do not think he would have objected to his\nopinion being generally known.\n\n[12] 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 to\nthe Bishop nothing which the world would think disgraceful, but, on the\ncontrary, what a large religious body would approve.\n\nChristmas Bay, 1841. \"I have been dreaming of Moberly all night. Should\nnot he and the like see, that it is unwise, unfair, and impatient to ask\nothers, What will you do under circumstances, which have not, which may\nnever come? Why bring fear, suspicion, and disunion into the camp about\nthings which are merely _in posse_? Natural, and exceedingly kind as\nBarter's and another friend's letters were, I think they have done great\nharm. I speak most sincerely when I say, that there are things which I\nneither contemplate, nor wish to contemplate; but, when I am asked about\nthem ten 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 the\nHoly 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 17th\ncentury, questions of _doctrine_ are now coming in; with him, it was a\nquestion of discipline.\n\n\"If such dreadful events were realized, I cannot help thinking we should\nall be vastly more agreed than we think now. Indeed, is it possible\n(humanly speaking) that those, who have so much the same heart, should\nwidely differ? But let this be considered, as to alternatives. _What_\ncommunion could we join? Could the Scotch or American sanction the\npresence of its Bishops and congregations in England, without incurring\nthe imputation of schism, unless indeed (and is that likely?) they\ndenounced the English as heretical?\n\n\"Is not this a time of strange providences? is it not our safest course,\nwithout looking to consequences, to do simply _what we think right_ day\nby day? shall we not be sure to go wrong, if we attempt to trace by\nanticipation the course of divine Providence?\n\n\"Has not all our misery, as a Church, arisen from people being afraid to\nlook difficulties in the face? They have palliated acts, when they\nshould have denounced them. There is that good fellow, Worcester Palmer,\ncan whitewash the Ecclesiastical Commission and the Jerusalem Bishopric.\nAnd what is the consequence? that our Church has, through centuries,\never been sinking lower and lower, till good part of its pretensions and\nprofessions is a mere sham, though it be a duty to make the best of what\nwe have received. Yet, though bound to make the best of other men's\nshams, let us not incur any of our own. The truest friends of our Church\nare they, who say boldly when her rulers are going wrong, and the\nconsequences; and (to speak catachrestically) _they_ are most likely to\ndie in the Church, who are, under these black circumstances, most\nprepared 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 so\nto speak,) that our prayers and our alms will come up as a memorial\nbefore God, and that all this miserable confusion tends to good.\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 the\nnew attitude of the Bishops, and our feelings upon it, have brought\nabout, they will get contented and satisfied. They will see that they\nexaggerated things.... Of course it would have been wrong to anticipate\nwhat one's feelings would be under such a painful contingency as the\nBishops' charging as they have done,--so it seems to me nobody's fault.\nNor is it wonderful that others\" [moderate men] \"are startled\" [i.e. at\nmy Protest, &c. &c.]; \"yet they should recollect that the more implicit\nthe reverence one pays to a Bishop, the more keen will be one's\nperception of heresy in him. The cord is binding and compelling, till it\nsnaps.\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 Bishop,\nof asking him for the Canons under which he acted, and so forth; but\nthose, who have cultivated a loyal feeling towards their superiors, are\nthe most loving servants, or the most zealous protestors. If others\nbecame so too, if the clergy of Chester denounced the heresy of their\ndiocesan, they would be doing their duty, and relieving themselves of\nthe share which they otherwise have in any possible defection of their\nbrethren.\n\n\"St. Stephen's [Day, December 26]. How I fidget! I now fear that the\nnote I wrote yesterday only makes matters worse by _disclosing_ too\nmuch. This 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 [of\nParochial Sermons], and merely saying, 'As many false reports are at\nthis time in circulation about him, he hopes his well-wishers will take\nthis Volume as an indication of his real thoughts and feelings: those\nwho are 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 of\nthis?\"\n\nAn old friend, at a distance from Oxford, Archdeacon Robert I.\nWilberforce, must have said something to me at this time, I do not know\nwhat, which challenged a frank reply; for I disclosed to him, I do not\nknow in what words, my frightful suspicion, hitherto only known to two\npersons, viz. his brother Henry and Mr. Frederic Rogers,[13] that, as\nregards my Anglicanism, perhaps I might break down in the event,--that\nperhaps we were both out of the Church. I think I recollect expressing\nmy difficulty, as derived from the Arian and Monophysite history, in a\nform in which it would be most intelligible to him, as being in fact an\nadmission of Bishop Bull's; viz. that in the controversies of the early\ncenturies the Roman Church was ever on the right side, which was of\ncourse a _prim\u00e2 facie_ argument in favour of Rome and against\nAnglicanism now. He answered me thus, under date of Jan. 29, 1842: \"I\ndon't think that I ever was so shocked by any communication, which was\never made to me, as by your letter of this morning. It has quite\nunnerved me.... I cannot but write to you, though I am at a loss where\nto begin.... I know of no act by which we have dissevered ourselves from\nthe communion of the Church Universal.... The more I study Scripture,\nthe more am I impressed with the resemblance between the Romish\nprinciple in the Church and the Babylon of St. John.... I am ready to\ngrieve that I ever directed my thoughts to theology, if it is indeed so\nuncertain, as your doubts seem to indicate.\"\n\n[13] Now Lord Blachford.\n\nWhile my old and true friends were thus in trouble about me, I suppose\nthey felt not only anxiety but pain, to see that I was gradually\nsurrendering myself to the influence of others, who had not their own\nclaims upon me, younger men, and of a cast of mind in no small degree\nuncongenial to my own. A new school of thought was rising, as is usual\nin doctrinal inquiries, and was sweeping the original party of the\nMovement aside, and was taking its place. The most prominent person in\nit, was a man of elegant genius, of classical mind, of rare talent in\nliterary composition:--Mr. Oakeley. He was not far from my own age; I\nhad long known him, though of late years he had not been in residence at\nOxford; and quite lately, he has been taking several signal occasions of\nrenewing that kindness, which he ever showed towards me when we were\nboth in the Anglican Church. His tone of mind was not unlike that which\ngave a character to the early Movement; he was almost a typical Oxford\nman, and, as far as I recollect, both in political and ecclesiastical\nviews, would have been of one spirit with the Oriel party of 1826-1833.\nBut he had entered late into the Movement; he did not know its first\nyears; and, beginning with a new start, he was naturally thrown together\nwith that body of eager, acute, resolute minds who had begun their\nCatholic life about the same time as he, who knew nothing about the _Via\nMedia_, but had heard much about Rome. This new party rapidly formed and\nincreased, in and out of Oxford, and, as it so happened,\ncontemporaneously with that very summer, when I received so serious a\nblow to my ecclesiastical views from the study of the Monophysite\ncontroversy. These men cut into the original Movement at an angle, fell\nacross its line of thought, and then set about turning that line in its\nown direction. 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 in\nLiberalism. Nothing was clearer concerning them, than that they needed\nto be kept in order; and on me who had had so much to do with the making\nof them, that duty was as clearly incumbent; and it is equally clear,\nfrom what I have already said, that I was just the person, above all\nothers, who could not undertake it. There are no friends like old\nfriends; but of those old friends, few could help me, few could\nunderstand me, many were annoyed with me, some were angry, because I was\nbreaking up a compact party, and some, as a matter of conscience, could\nnot listen to me. When I looked round for those whom I might consult in\nmy difficulties, I found the very hypothesis of those difficulties\nacting as a bar to their giving me their advice. Then I said, bitterly,\n\"You are 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, who were a great help to me. But on the other hand, though I\nneither was so fond (with a few exceptions) of the persons, nor of the\nmethods of thought, which belonged to this new school, as of the old\nset, though I could not trust in their firmness of purpose, for, like a\nswarm of flies, they might come and go, and at length be divided and\ndissipated, yet I had an intense sympathy in their object and in the\ndirection in which their path lay, in spite of my old friends, in spite\nof my old life-long prejudices. In spite of my ingrained fears of Rome,\nand the decision of my reason and conscience against her usages, in\nspite of my affection for Oxford and Oriel, yet I had a secret longing\nlove of Rome the Mother of English Christianity, and I had a true\ndevotion to the Blessed Virgin, in whose College I lived, whose Altar I\nserved, and 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 in religious inquiry by our sympathy\nrather than by our reason. And moreover, the members of this new school\nlooked up to me, as I have said, and did me true kindnesses, and really\nloved me, and stood by me in trouble, when others went away, and for all\nthis I was grateful; nay, many of them were in trouble themselves, and\nin the same boat with me, and that was a further cause of sympathy\nbetween us; and hence it was, when the new school came on in force, and\ninto collision with the old, I had not the heart, any more than the\npower, to repel them; I was in great perplexity, and hardly knew where I\nstood; I took their part; and, when I wanted to be in peace and silence,\nI had to speak out, and I incurred the charge of weakness from some men,\nand of mysteriousness, shuffling, and underhand dealing from the\nmajority.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNow I will say here frankly, that this sort of charge is a matter which\nI cannot properly meet, because I cannot duly realize it. I have never\nhad any suspicion of my own honesty; and, when men say that I was\ndishonest, I cannot grasp the accusation as a distinct conception, such\nas it is possible to encounter. If a man said to me, \"On such a day and\nbefore such persons you said a thing was white, when it was black,\" I\nunderstand what is meant well enough, and I can set myself to prove an\n_alibi_ or to explain the mistake; or if a man said to me, \"You tried to\ngain me over to your party, intending to take me with you to Rome, but\nyou did not succeed,\" I can give him the lie, and lay down an assertion\nof my own as firm and as exact as his, that not from the time that I was\nfirst unsettled, did I ever attempt to gain any one over to myself or to\nmy Romanizing opinions, and that it is only his own coxcombical fancy\nwhich has bred such a thought in him: but my imagination is at a loss in\npresence of those vague charges, which have commonly been brought\nagainst me, charges, which are made up of impressions, and\nunderstandings, and inferences, and hearsay, and surmises. Accordingly,\nI shall not make the attempt, for, in doing so, I should be dealing\nblows in the air; what I shall attempt is to state what I know of myself\nand what I recollect, and leave to others its application.\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 I\nsaw would go further than was commonly perceived. I considered that to\nmake the _Via Media_ concrete and substantive, it must be much more than\nit was in outline; that the Anglican Church must have a ceremonial, a\nritual, and a fulness of doctrine and devotion, which it had not at\npresent, if it were to compete with the Roman Church with any prospect\nof success. Such additions would not remove it from its proper basis,\nbut would merely strengthen and beautify it: such, for instance, would\nbe confraternities, particular devotions, reverence for the Blessed\nVirgin, prayers for the dead, beautiful churches, munificent offerings\nto them and in them, monastic houses, and many other observances and\ninstitutions, which I used to say belonged to us as much as to Rome,\nthough Rome had appropriated them and boasted of them, by reason of our\nhaving let them slip from us. The principle, on which all this turned,\nis brought out in one of the Letters I published on occasion of Tract\n90. \"The age is moving,\" I said, \"towards something; and most unhappily\nthe one religious communion among us, which has of late years been\npractically in possession of this something, is the Church of Rome. She\nalone, amid all the errors and evils of her practical system, has given\nfree scope to the feelings of awe, mystery, tenderness, reverence,\ndevotedness, and other feelings which may be especially called Catholic.\nThe question then is, whether we shall give them up to the Roman Church\nor claim them for ourselves.... But if we do give them up, we must give\nup the men who cherish them. We must consent either to give up the men,\nor to admit their principles.\" With these feelings I frankly admit,\nthat, while I was working simply for the sake of the Anglican Church, I\ndid not at all mind, though I found myself laying down principles in its\ndefence, which went beyond that particular kind of defence which\nhigh-and-dry men thought perfection, and even though I ended in framing\na kind of defence, which they might call a revolution, while I thought\nit a restoration. Thus, for illustration, I might discourse upon the\n\"Communion of Saints\" in such a manner, (though I do not recollect doing\nso,) as might lead the way towards devotion to the Blessed Virgin and\nthe Saints on the one hand, and towards prayers for the dead on the\nother. In a memorandum of the year 1844 or 1845, I thus speak on this\nsubject: \"If the Church be not defended on establishment grounds, it\nmust be upon principles, which go far beyond their immediate object.\nSometimes I saw these further results, sometimes not. Though I saw them,\nI sometimes did not say that I saw them:--so long as I thought they were\ninconsistent, _not_ with our Church, but only with the existing\nopinions, I was not unwilling to insinuate truths into our Church, which\nI thought had a right to be there.\"\n\nTo so much I confess; but I do not confess, I simply deny that I ever\nsaid any thing which secretly bore against the Church of England,\nknowing it myself, in order that others might unwarily accept it. It was\nindeed one of my great difficulties and causes of reserve, as time went\non, that I at length recognized in principles which I had honestly\npreached as if Anglican, conclusions favourable to the cause of Rome. Of\ncourse I did not like to confess this; and, when interrogated, was in\nconsequence in perplexity. The prime instance of this was the appeal to\nAntiquity; St. Leo had overset, in my own judgment, its force as the\nspecial argument for Anglicanism; yet I was committed to Antiquity,\ntogether with the whole Anglican school; what then was I to say, when\nacute minds urged this or that application of it against the _Via\nMedia_? it was impossible that, in such circumstances, any answer could\nbe given which was not unsatisfactory, or any behaviour adopted which\nwas not mysterious. Again, sometimes in what I wrote I went just as far\nas I saw, and could as little say more, as I could see what is below the\nhorizon; and therefore, when asked as to the consequences of what I had\nsaid, I had no answer to give. Again, sometimes when I was asked,\nwhether certain conclusions did not follow from a certain principle, I\nmight not be able to tell at the moment, especially if the matter were\ncomplicated; and for this reason, if for no other, because there is\ngreat difference between a conclusion in the abstract and a conclusion\nin the concrete, and because a conclusion may be modified in fact by a\nconclusion from some opposite principle. Or it might so happen that my\nhead got simply confused, by the very strength of the logic which was\nadministered to me, and thus I gave my sanction to conclusions which\nreally were not mine; and when the report of those conclusions came\nround to me through others, I had to unsay them. And then again, perhaps\nI did not like to see men scared or scandalized by unfeeling logical\ninferences, which would not have troubled them to the day of their\ndeath, had they not been forced to recognize them. And then I felt\naltogether the force of the maxim of St. Ambrose, \"Non in dialectic\u00e2\ncomplacuit Deo salvum facere populum suum;\"--I had a great dislike of\npaper logic. For myself, it was not logic that carried me on; as well\nmight one say that the quicksilver in the barometer changes the weather.\nIt is the concrete being that reasons; pass a number of years, and I\nfind my mind in a new place; how? the whole man moves; paper logic is\nbut the record of it. All the logic in the world would not have made me\nmove faster towards Rome than I did; as well might you say that I have\narrived at the end of my journey, because I see the village church\nbefore me, as venture to assert that the miles, over which my soul had\nto pass before it got to Rome, could be annihilated, even though I had\nbeen in possession of some far clearer view than I then had, that Rome\nwas my ultimate destination. Great acts take time. At least this is what\nI felt in my own case; and therefore to come to me with methods of logic\nhad in it the nature of a provocation, and, though I do not think I ever\nshowed it, made me somewhat indifferent how I met them, and perhaps led\nme, as a means of relieving my impatience, to be mysterious or\nirrelevant, or to give in because I could not meet them to my\nsatisfaction. And a greater trouble still than these logical mazes, was\nthe introduction of logic into every subject whatever, so far, that is,\nas this was done. Before I was at Oriel, I recollect an acquaintance\nsaying to me that \"the Oriel Common Room stank of Logic.\" One is not at\nall pleased when poetry, or eloquence, or devotion, is considered as if\nchiefly intended to feed syllogisms. Now, in saying all this, I am\nsaying nothing against the deep piety and earnestness which were\ncharacteristics of this second phase of the Movement, in which I had\ntaken so prominent a part. What I have been observing is, that this\nphase had a tendency to bewilder and to upset me; and, that, instead of\nsaying so, as I ought to have done, perhaps from a sort of laziness I\ngave answers at random, which have led to my appearing close or\ninconsistent.\n\nI have turned up two letters of this period, which in a measure\nillustrate what I have been saying. The first was written to the Bishop\nof Oxford on occasion of Tract 90:\n\n\"March 20, 1841. No one can enter into my situation but myself. I see a\ngreat 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 linked\ntogether, and I cannot, or rather I would not be dishonest. When persons\ntoo interrogate me, I am obliged in many cases to give an opinion, or I\nseem to be underhand. Keeping silence looks like artifice. And I do not\nlike people to consult or respect me, from thinking differently of my\nopinions from what I know them to be. And again (to use the proverb)\nwhat is one man's food is another man's poison. All these things make my\nsituation very difficult. But that collision must at some time ensue\nbetween members of the Church of opposite sentiments, I have long been\naware. The time and mode has been in the hand of Providence; I do not\nmean to exclude my own great imperfections in bringing it about; yet I\nstill feel obliged to think the Tract necessary.\"\n\nThe second is taken from the notes of a letter which I sent to Dr. Pusey\nin the next year:\n\n\"October 16, 1842. As to my being entirely with Ward, I do not know the\nlimits of my own opinions. If Ward 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 antecedent\nplausibility. I cannot assert that it is not true; but I cannot, with\nthat keen perception which some people have, appropriate it. It is a\nnuisance to me to be _forced_ beyond what I can fairly accept.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere was another source of the perplexity with which at this time I was\nencompassed, and of the reserve and mysteriousness, of which that\nperplexity gained for me the credit. After Tract 90 the Protestant world\nwould not let me alone; they pursued me in the public journals to\nLittlemore. Reports of all kinds were circulated about me. \"Imprimis,\nwhy did I go up to Littlemore at all? For no good purpose certainly; I\ndared not tell why.\" Why, to be sure, it was hard that I should be\nobliged to say to the Editors of newspapers that I went up there to say\nmy prayers; 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 to\nconfess that I had thought of giving up my Living a year or two before,\nand that this was a first step to it. It was hard to have to plead,\nthat, for what I knew, my doubts would vanish, if the newspapers would\nbe so good as to give me time and let me alone. Who would ever dream of\nmaking the world his confidant? yet I was considered insidious, sly,\ndishonest, if I would not open my heart to the tender mercies of the\nworld. But they persisted: \"What was I doing at Littlemore?\" Doing\nthere! have I not retreated from you? have I not given up my position\nand my place? am I alone, of Englishmen, not to have the privilege to go\nwhere I will, no questions asked? am I alone to be followed about by\njealous prying eyes, which take note whether I go in at a back door or\nat the front, and who the men are who happen to call on me in the\nafternoon? Cowards! if I advanced one step, you would run away; it is\nnot you that I fear: \"Di me terrent, et Jupiter hostis.\" It is because\nthe Bishops 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 weighs\nme down. I cannot walk into or out of my house, but curious eyes are\nupon me. Why will you not let me die in peace? Wounded brutes creep into\nsome hole to die in, and no one grudges it them. Let me alone, I shall\nnot trouble you long. This was the keen feeling which pierced me, and, I\nthink, these are the very words in which I expressed it to myself. I\nasked, in the words of a great motto, \"Ubi lapsus? quid feci?\" One day\nwhen I entered my house, I found a flight of Under-graduates inside.\nHeads of Houses, as mounted patrols, walked their horses round those\npoor cottages. Doctors of Divinity dived into the hidden recesses of\nthat private tenement uninvited, and drew domestic conclusions from what\nthey saw there. I had thought that an Englishman's house was his castle;\nbut the newspapers thought otherwise, and at last the matter came before\nmy good Bishop. I insert 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 in\nwhich 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 cloisters\nall may be seen advancing to perfection, under the eye of a Parish\nPriest 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 suspicion\nand jealousy are felt about the matter, I am anxious to afford you an\nopportunity 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 to\nattempt in my Diocese a revival of the Monastic orders (in any thing\napproaching to the Romanist sense of the term) without previous\ncommunication with me,--or indeed that you should take upon yourself to\noriginate any measure of importance without authority from the heads of\nthe Church,--and therefore I at once exonerate you from the accusation\nbrought against you by the newspaper I have quoted, but I feel it\nnevertheless a duty to my Diocese and myself, as well as to you, to ask\nyou to put it in my power to contradict what, if uncontradicted, would\nappear to imply a glaring invasion of all ecclesiastical discipline on\n_your_ part, or of inexcusable neglect and indifference to my duties on\n_mine_.\"\n\nI wrote in answer as follows:--\n\n\"April 14, 1842. I am very much obliged by your Lordship's kindness in\nallowing me to write to you on the subject of my house at Littlemore; at\nthe same time I feel it hard both on your Lordship and myself that the\nrestlessness of the public mind should oblige you to require an\nexplanation 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 Lordship's\nauthority; and, with the intention of following out the particular act\nenjoined upon me, I not only stopped the series of Tracts, on which I\nwas engaged, but withdrew from all public discussion of Church matters\nof the day, or what may be called ecclesiastical politics. I turned\nmyself at once to the preparation for the Press of the translations of\nSt. Athanasius to which I had long wished to devote myself, and I\nintended and intend to employ myself in the like theological studies,\nand in the concerns of my own parish and in practical works.\n\n\"With the same view of personal improvement I was led more seriously to\na 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 nothing.\nFor what have I done that I am to be called to account by the world for\nmy private actions, in a way in which no one else is called? Why may I\nnot have that liberty which all others are allowed? I am often accused\nof being underhand and uncandid in respect to the intentions to which I\nhave been alluding: but no one likes his own good resolutions noised\nabout, both from mere common delicacy and from fear lest he should not\nbe able to fulfil them. I feel it very cruel, though the parties in\nfault do not know what they are doing, that very sacred matters between\nme and my conscience are made a matter of public talk. May I take a case\nparallel though different? suppose a person in prospect of marriage;\nwould he like the subject discussed in newspapers, and parties,\ncircumstances, &c., &c., publicly demanded of him, at the penalty of\nbeing accused of craft and duplicity?\n\n\"The resolution I speak of has been taken with reference to myself\nalone, and has been contemplated quite independent of the co-operation\nof any other human being, and without reference to success or failure\nother than personal, and without regard to the blame or approbation of\nman. And being a resolution of years, and one to which I feel God has\ncalled me, and in which I am violating no rule of the Church any more\nthan if I married, I should have to answer for it, if I did not pursue\nit, as a good Providence made openings for it. In pursuing it then I am\nthinking of myself alone, not aiming at any ecclesiastical or external\neffects. At the same time of course it would be a great comfort to me to\nknow that God had put it into the hearts of others to pursue their\npersonal edification in the same way, and unnatural not to wish to have\nthe benefit of their presence and encouragement, or not to think it a\ngreat infringement on the rights of conscience if such personal and\nprivate resolutions were interfered with. Your Lordship will allow me to\nadd my firm conviction that such religious resolutions are most\nnecessary for keeping a certain class of minds firm in their allegiance\nto our Church; but still I can as truly say that my own reason for any\nthing I have done has been a personal one, without which I should not\nhave entered 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 I\nhave a resident curate in Oxford. In doing this, I believe I am\nconsulting for the good of my parish, as my population at Littlemore is\nat 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 be\ncalled, I conceive I am doing a very great benefit to my people. At the\nsame time it has appeared to me that a partial or temporary retirement\nfrom St. Mary's Church might be expedient under the prevailing\nexcitement.\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 in\nprocess of erection;' there is no 'chapel;' no 'refectory', hardly a\ndining-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 a\nrevival of the Monastic Orders, in any thing approaching to the Romanist\nsense of the term,' or 'taking on myself to originate any measure of\nimportance without authority from the Heads of the Church.' I am\nattempting nothing ecclesiastical, but something personal and private,\nand which can only be made public, not private, by newspapers and\nletter-writers, in which sense the most sacred and conscientious\nresolves and acts may certainly be made the objects of an unmannerly and\nunfeeling curiosity.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOne calumny there was which the Bishop did not believe, and of which of\ncourse he had no idea of speaking. It was that I was actually in the\nservice of the enemy. I had forsooth been already received into the\nCatholic Church, and was rearing at Littlemore a nest of Papists, who,\nlike me, were to take the Anglican oaths which they disbelieved, by\nvirtue of a dispensation from Rome, and thus in due time were to bring\nover to that unprincipled Church great numbers of the Anglican Clergy\nand Laity. Bishops gave their countenance to this imputation against me.\nThe case was simply this:--as I made Littlemore a place of retirement\nfor myself, so did I offer it to others. There were young men in Oxford,\nwhose testimonials for Orders had been refused by their Colleges; there\nwere young clergymen, who had found themselves unable from conscience to\ngo on with their duties, and had thrown up their parochial engagements.\nSuch men were already going straight to Rome, and I interposed; I\ninterposed for the reasons I have given in the beginning of this portion\nof my narrative. I interposed from fidelity to my clerical engagements,\nand from 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. Their\nfriends besought me to quiet them, if I could. Some of them came to live\nwith me at Littlemore. They were laymen, or in the place of laymen. I\nkept some of them back for several years from being received into the\nCatholic Church. Even when I had given up my living, I was still bound\nby my duty to their parents or friends, and I did not forget still to do\nwhat I could for them. The immediate occasion of my resigning St.\nMary's, was the unexpected conversion of one of them. After that, I felt\nit was impossible to keep my post there, for I had been unable to keep\nmy word with my Bishop.\n\nThe following letters refer, more or less, to these men, whether they\nwere actually with me at Littlemore or not:--\n\n1. \"March 6, 1842. Church doctrines are a powerful weapon; they were not\nsent into the world for nothing. God's word does not return unto Him\nvoid: If I have said, as I have, that the doctrines of the Tracts for\nthe Times would build up our Church and destroy parties, I meant, if\nthey were used, not if they were denounced. Else, they will be as\npowerful against us, as they might be powerful for us.\n\n\"If people who have a liking for another, hear him called a Roman\nCatholic; they will say, 'Then after all Romanism is no such bad thing.'\nAll these persons, who are making the cry, are fulfilling their own\nprophecy. If all the world agree in telling a man, he has no business in\nour Church, he will at length begin to think he has none. How easy is it\nto persuade a man of any thing, when numbers affirm it! so great is the\nforce of imagination. Did every one who met you in the streets look hard\nat you, you would think you were somehow in fault. I do not know any\nthing so irritating, so unsettling, especially in the case of young\npersons, as, when they are going on calmly and unconsciously, obeying\ntheir Church and following its divines, (I am speaking from facts,) as\nsuddenly to their surprise to be conjured not to make a leap, of which\nthey have not a dream and from which they are far removed.\"\n\n2. 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 there\nare two other states of mind; 1. that of those who are unconsciously\nnear Rome, and whose _despair_ about our Church would at once develope\ninto a state of conscious approximation, or a _quasi_-resolution to go\nover; 2. those who feel they can with a safe conscience remain with us\n_while_ they are allowed to _testify_ in behalf of Catholicism, i.e. as\nif by such acts they were putting our Church, or at least that portion\nof it in which they were included, in the position of catechumens.\"\n\n3. \"June 20, 1843. I return the very pleasing letter you have permitted\nme to read. What a sad thing it is, that it should be a plain duty to\nrestrain one's sympathies, and to keep them from boiling over; but I\nsuppose it is a matter of common prudence.\n\n\"Things are very serious here; but I should not like you to say so, as\nit might do no good. The Authorities find, that, by the Statutes, they\nhave more than military power; and the general impression seems to be,\nthat they intend to exert it, and put down Catholicism at any risk. I\nbelieve that by the Statutes, they can pretty nearly suspend a Preacher,\nas _seditiosus_ or causing dissension, without assigning their grounds\nin the particular case, nay, banish him, or imprison him. If so, all\nholders of preferment in the University should make as quiet an _exit_\nas they can. There is more exasperation on both sides at this moment, as\nI am told, than ever there was.\"\n\n4. \"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 of\nour position is a subject of anxiety to others beside yourself. It is no\ngood attempting to offer advice, when perhaps I might raise difficulties\ninstead of removing them. It seems to me quite a case, in which you\nshould, as far as may be, make up your mind for yourself. Come to\nLittlemore by all means. We shall all rejoice in your company; and, if\nquiet and retirement are able, as they very likely will be, to reconcile\nyou to things as they are, you shall have your fill of them. How\ndistressed poor Henry Wilberforce must be! Knowing how he values you, I\nfeel for him; but, alas! he has his own position, and every one else has\nhis own, and the misery is that no 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; but\nthis is a time which throws together persons who feel alike. May I\nwithout taking a liberty sign myself, yours affectionately, &c.\"\n\n5. \"August 30, 1843. A. B. has suddenly conformed to the Church of Rome.\nHe was away for three weeks. I suppose I must say in my defence, that he\npromised me distinctly to remain in our Church three years, before I\nreceived him here.\"\n\n6. \"June 17, 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 from\npersons who do not know me at all, you would think differently of me,\nwhatever you thought of my opinions. Two years since, I got your son to\ntell you my intention of resigning St. Mary's, before I made it public,\nthinking you ought to know it. When you expressed some painful feeling\nupon it, I told him I could not consent to his remaining here, painful\nas it would be to me to part with him, without your written sanction.\nAnd this you did me the favour to give.\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 A.\nB. (his home) at once. I am very sorry to part with him.\"\n\n7. The following letter is addressed to Cardinal Wiseman, then Vicar\nApostolic, who accused me of coldness in my conduct towards him:--\n\n\"April 16, 1845. I was at that time in charge of a ministerial office in\nthe English Church, with persons entrusted to me, and a Bishop to obey;\nhow could I possibly write otherwise than I did without violating sacred\nobligations and betraying momentous interests which were upon me? I felt\nthat my immediate, undeniable duty, clear if any thing was clear, was to\nfulfil that trust. It might be right indeed to give it up, that was\nanother thing; but it never could be right to hold it, and to act as if\nI did not hold it.... If you knew me, you would acquit me, I think, of\nhaving ever felt towards your Lordship in an unfriendly spirit, or ever\nhaving had a shadow on my mind (as far as I dare witness about myself)\nof what might be called controversial rivalry or desire of getting the\nbetter, or fear lest the world should think I had got the worse, or\nirritation of any kind. You are too kind indeed to imply this, and yet\nyour words lead me to say it. And now in like manner, pray believe,\nthough I cannot explain it to you, that I am encompassed with\nresponsibilities, so great and so various, as utterly to overcome me,\nunless I have mercy from Him, who all through my life has sustained and\nguided me, and to whom I can now submit myself, though men of all\nparties are thinking evil of me.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSuch fidelity, however, was taken _in malam partem_ by the high Anglican\nauthorities; they thought it insidious. I happen still to have a\ncorrespondence which took place in 1843, in which the chief place is\nfilled by one of the most eminent Bishops of the day, a theologian and\nreader of the Fathers, a moderate man, who at one time was talked of as\nlikely on a vacancy to succeed to the Primacy. A young clergyman in his\ndiocese became a Catholic; the papers at once reported on authority from\n\"a very high quarter,\" that, after his reception, \"the Oxford men had\nbeen recommending him to retain his living.\" I had reasons for thinking\nthat the allusion was made to me, and I authorized the Editor of a\nPaper, who had inquired of me on the point, to \"give it, as far as I was\nconcerned, an unqualified contradiction;\"--when from a motive of\ndelicacy he hesitated, I added \"my direct and indignant contradiction.\"\n\"Whoever is the author of it,\" I continued to the Editor, \"no\ncorrespondence or intercourse of any kind, direct or indirect, has\npassed between Mr. S. and myself, since his conforming to the Church of\nRome, except my formally and merely acknowledging the receipt of his\nletter, in which he informed me of the fact, without, as far as I\nrecollect, my expressing any opinion upon it. You may state this as\nbroadly as I have set it down.\" My denial was told to the Bishop; what\ntook place upon it is given in a letter from which I copy. \"My father\nshowed the letter to the Bishop, who, as he laid it down, said, 'Ah,\nthose Oxford men are not ingenuous.' 'How do you mean?' asked my father.\n'Why,' said the Bishop, 'they advised Mr. B. S. to retain his living\nafter he turned Catholic. I know that to be a fact, because A. B. told\nme so.'\" \"The Bishop,\" continues the letter, \"who is perhaps the most\ninfluential man in reality on the bench, evidently believes it to be the\ntruth.\" Upon this Dr. Pusey wrote in my behalf to the Bishop; and the\nBishop instantly beat a retreat. \"I have the honour,\" he says in the\nautograph which I transcribe, \"to acknowledge the receipt of your note,\nand to say in reply that it has not been stated by me, (though such a\nstatement has, I believe, appeared in some of the Public Prints,) that\nMr. Newman had advised Mr. B. S. to retain his living, after he had\nforsaken our Church. But it has been stated to me, that Mr. Newman was\nin close correspondence with Mr. B. S., and, being fully aware of his\nstate of opinions and feelings, yet advised him to continue in our\ncommunion. Allow me to add,\" he says to Dr. Pusey, \"that neither your\nname, nor that of Mr. Keble, was mentioned to me in connexion with that\nof Mr. B. S.\"\n\nI was not going to let the Bishop off on this evasion, so I wrote to him\nmyself. After quoting his Letter to Dr. Pusey, I continued, \"I beg to\ntrouble your Lordship with my own account of the two allegations\"\n[_close correspondence_ and _fully aware_, &c.] \"which are contained in\nyour statement, and which have led to your speaking of me in terms which\nI hope never to deserve. 1. Since Mr. B. S. has been in your Lordship's\ndiocese, I have seen him in Common rooms or private parties in Oxford\ntwo or three times, when I never (as far as I can recollect) had any\nconversation with him. During the same time I have, to the best of my\nmemory, written to him three letters. One was lately, in acknowledgment\nof his informing me of his change of religion. Another was last summer,\nwhen I asked him (to no purpose) to come and stay with me in this place.\nThe earliest of the three letters was written just a year since, as far\nas I recollect, and it certainly was on the subject of his joining the\nChurch of Rome. I wrote this letter at the earnest wish of a friend of\nhis. I cannot be sure that, on his replying, I did not send him a brief\nnote in explanation of points in my letter which he had misapprehended.\nI cannot 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 Pope's\nsupremacy. He professed to be searching Antiquity whether the see of\nRome had formerly that relation to the whole Church which Roman\nCatholics now assign to it. My letter was directed to the point, that it\nwas his duty not to perplex himself with arguments on [such] a question,\n... and to put it altogether aside.... It is hard that I am put upon my\nmemory, without knowing the details of the statement made against me,\nconsidering the various correspondence in which I am from time to time\nunavoidably engaged.... Be assured, my Lord, that there are very\ndefinite limits, beyond which persons like me would never urge another\nto retain preferment in the English Church, nor would retain it\nthemselves; and that the censure which has been directed against them by\nso many of its Rulers has a very grave bearing upon those limits.\" The\nBishop replied in a civil letter, and sent my own letter to his original\ninformant, who wrote to me the letter of a gentleman. It seems that an\nanxious lady had said something or other which had been misinterpreted,\nagainst her real meaning, into the calumny which was circulated, and so\nthe report 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 about\nme, equally incorrect with that which has come to your Lordship's ears,\nare from time to time reported to me as credited and repeated by the\nhighest authorities in our Church, though it is very seldom that I have\nthe opportunity of denying them. I am obliged by your Lordship's letter\nto Dr. Pusey as giving me such an opportunity.\" Then I added, with a\npurpose, \"Your Lordship will observe that in my Letter I had no occasion\nto proceed to the question, whether a person holding Roman Catholic\nopinions can in honesty remain in our Church. Lest then any\nmisconception should arise from my silence, I here take the liberty of\nadding, that I see nothing wrong in such a person's continuing in\ncommunion with us, provided he holds no preferment or office, abstains\nfrom the management of ecclesiastical matters, and is bound by no\nsubscription or oath to our doctrines.\"\n\nThis was written on March 8, 1843, and was in anticipation of my own\nretirement into lay communion. This again leads me to a remark:--for two\nyears 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 could\nnot 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 my\nfellowship, for I could not be sure that my doubts would not be reduced\nor overcome, however unlikely I might consider such an event. But I gave\nup my living; and, for two years before my conversion, I took no\nclerical duty. My last Sermon was in September, 1843; then I remained at\nLittlemore in quiet for two years. But it was made a subject of reproach\nto me at the time, and is at this day, that I did not leave the Anglican\nChurch sooner. To me this seems a wonderful charge; why, even had I been\nquite sure that Rome was the true Church, the Anglican Bishops would\nhave had no just subject of complaint against me, provided I took no\nAnglican oath, no clerical duty, no ecclesiastical administration. Do\nthey force all men who go to their Churches to believe in the 39\nArticles, or to join in the Athanasian Creed? However, I was to have\nother measure dealt to me; great authorities ruled it so; and a great\ncontroversialist, Mr. Stanley Faber, thought it a shame that I did not\nleave the Church of England as much as ten years sooner than I did. He\nsaid this in print between the years 1847 and 1849. His nephew, an\nAnglican clergyman, kindly wished to undeceive him on this point. So, in\nthe latter year, after some correspondence, I wrote the following\nletter, which will be of service to this narrative, from its\nchronological notes:--\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 years\nin question,' (I suppose, the last ten years of my membership with the\nAnglican Church,) 'or during any part of the time, my controversial\nantipathy will be at an end, and I will readily express to him that I am\ntruly 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, professing\nto belong to the Church of England, in his heart and will intends to\nbenefit the Church of Rome, at the expense of the Church of England. He\ncannot mean by the expression merely a person who in fact is benefiting\nthe Church of Rome, while he is intending to benefit the Church of\nEngland, for that is no discredit to him morally, and he (your uncle)\nevidently 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 the\nChurch 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 injure\nit, 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, and\nindirectly against the English; but even then, till it was finished, I\nhad not absolutely intended to publish it, wishing to reserve to myself\nthe chance of changing my mind when the argumentative views which were\nactuating me had been distinctly brought out before me in writing.\n\n\"I wish this statement, which I make from memory, and without consulting\nany document, severely tested by my writings and doings, as I am\nconfident it will, on the whole, be borne out, whatever real or apparent\nexceptions (I suspect none) have to be allowed by me in detail.\n\n\"Your uncle is at liberty to make what use he pleases of this\nexplanation.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nI have now reached an important date in my narrative, the year 1843; but\nbefore 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 my\nheart, only I do not see any prospect of it in our time; and I despair\nof its being effected without great sacrifices on all hands. As to\nresisting the Bishop's will, I observe that no point of doctrine or\nprinciple was in dispute, but a course of action, the publication of\ncertain works. I do not think you sufficiently understood our position.\nI suppose you would obey the Holy See in such a case; now, when we were\nseparated from the Pope, his authority reverted to our Diocesans. Our\nBishop is our Pope. It is our theory, that each diocese is an integral\nChurch, intercommunion being a duty, (and the breach of it a sin,) but\nnot essential to Catholicity. To have resisted my Bishop, would have\nbeen to place myself in an utterly false position, which I never could\nhave recovered. Depend upon it, the strength of any party lies in its\nbeing _true to its theory_. Consistency is the life of a movement.\n\n\"I have no misgivings whatever that the line I have taken can be other\nthan a prosperous one: that is, in itself, for of course Providence may\nrefuse 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 duty\nwould be under other circumstances, what our duty would have been ten or\ntwenty years ago, I cannot say; but I do think that there is less of\nprivate judgment in going with one's Church, than in leaving it. I can\nearnestly desire a union between my Church and yours. I cannot listen to\nthe 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 split\noff from the communion of Rome, and kept up a protest for 300 years for\nnothing. I think I never shall believe that so much piety and\nearnestness would be found among Protestants, if there were not some\nvery grave errors on the side of Rome. To suppose the contrary is most\nunreal, and violates all one's notions of moral probabilities. All\naberrations are founded on, and have their life in, some truth or\nother--and Protestantism, so widely spread and so long enduring, must\nhave in it, and must be witness for, a great truth or much truth. That I\nam an advocate for Protestantism, you cannot suppose;--but I am forced\ninto a _Via Media_, short of Rome, as it is at present.\"\n\n3. \"May 5, 1841. While I most sincerely hold that there is in the Roman\nChurch a traditionary system which is not necessarily connected with her\nessential formularies, yet, were I ever so much to change my mind on\nthis point, this would not tend to bring me from my present position,\nprovidentially appointed in the English Church. That your communion was\nunassailable, would not prove that mine was indefensible. Nor would it\nat all affect the sense in which I receive our Articles; they would\nstill speak against certain definite errors, though you had reformed\nthem.\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 of\ntheir present views, to find it imperative on them to pass over to your\ncommunion. Allow me to state strongly, that if you have any such\nthoughts, and proceed to act upon them, your friends will be committing\na fatal mistake. We have (I trust) the principle and temper of obedience\ntoo intimately wrought into us to allow of our separating ourselves from\nour ecclesiastical superiors because in many points we may sympathize\nwith others. We have too great a horror of the principle of private\njudgment to trust it in so immense a matter as that of changing from one\ncommunion to another. We may be cast out of our communion, or it may\ndecree heresy to be truth,--you shall say whether such contingencies are\nlikely; but I do not see other conceivable causes of our leaving the\nChurch in which we were baptized.\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 opinions\nand cardinal views in the course of the last eight years. That my\n_sympathies_ have grown towards the religion of Rome I do not deny; that\nmy _reasons_ for _shunning_ her communion have lessened or altered it\nwould be difficult perhaps to prove. And I wish to go by reason, not by\nfeeling.\"\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 in\nthe letters I have written, I have uniformly said that I did not expect\nthat union in our time, and have discouraged the notion of all sudden\nproceedings with a view to it. I must ask your leave to repeat on this\noccasion most distinctly, that I cannot be party to any agitation, but\nmean to remain quiet in my own place, and to do all I can to make others\ntake the same course. This I conceive to be my simple duty; but, over\nand above this, I will not set my teeth on edge with sour grapes. I know\nit is quite within the range of possibilities that one or another of our\npeople should go over to your communion; however, it would be a greater\nmisfortune to you than grief to us. If your friends wish to put a gulf\nbetween themselves and us, let them make converts, but not else. Some\nmonths ago, I ventured to say that I felt it a painful duty to keep\naloof from all Roman Catholics who came with the intention of opening\nnegotiations for the union of the Churches: when you now urge us to\npetition our Bishops for a union, this, I conceive, is very like an act\nof negotiation.\"\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 far as I have preserved\nit, but I think there were various changes and additions:--\"September\n12, 1841. It would rejoice all Catholic minds among us, more than words\ncan say, if you could persuade members of the Church of Rome to take the\nline in politics which you so earnestly advocate. Suspicion and distrust\nare the main causes at present of the separation between us, and the\nnearest approaches in doctrine will but increase the hostility, which,\nalas, our people feel towards yours, while these causes continue. Depend\nupon it, you must not rely upon our Catholic tendencies till they are\nremoved. I am not speaking of myself, or of any friends of mine; but of\nour Church generally. Whatever _our_ personal feelings may be, we shall\nbut tend to raise and spread a _rival_ Church to yours in the four\nquarters of the world, unless _you_ do what none but you _can_ do.\nSympathies, which would flow over to the Church of Rome, as a matter of\ncourse, did she admit them, will but be developed in the consolidation\nof our own system, if she continues to be the object of our suspicions\nand fears. 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 in\nopposition to it. I am sure, that, while you suffer, we suffer too from\nthe separation; _but we cannot remove the obstacles_; it is with you to\ndo so. You do not fear us; we fear you. Till we cease to fear you, we\ncannot love you.\n\n\"While you are in your present position, the friends of Catholic unity\nin our Church are but fulfilling the prediction of those of your body\nwho are averse to them, viz. that they will be merely strengthening a\nrival communion to yours. Many of you say that _we_ are your greatest\nenemies; we have said so ourselves: so we are, so we shall be, as things\nstand at present. We are keeping people from you, by supplying their\nwants in our own Church. We _are_ keeping persons from you: do you wish\nus to keep them from you for a time or for ever? It rests with you to\ndetermine. I do not fear that you will succeed among us; you will not\nsupplant our Church in the affections of the English nation; only\nthrough the English Church can you act upon the English nation. I wish\nof course our Church should be consolidated, with and through and in\nyour communion, for its sake, and your sake, and for the sake of unity.\n\n\"Are you aware that the more serious thinkers among us are used, as far\nas they dare form an opinion, to regard the spirit of Liberalism as the\ncharacteristic of the destined Antichrist? In vain does any one clear\nthe Church of Rome from the badges of Antichrist, in which Protestants\nwould invest her, if she deliberately takes up her position in the very\nquarter, whither we have cast them, when we took them off from her.\nAntichrist is described as the [Greek: anomos], as exalting himself\nabove the yoke of religion and law. The spirit of lawlessness came in\nwith the Reformation, and Liberalism is its offspring.\n\n\"And now I fear I am going to pain you by telling you, that you consider\nthe approaches in doctrine on our part towards you, closer than they\nreally are. I cannot help repeating what I have many times said in\nprint, that your services and devotions to St. Mary in matter of fact do\nmost 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 have\nI said that our Articles in all respects admit of a Roman\ninterpretation; the very word 'Transubstantiation' is disowned in them.\n\n\"Thus, you see, it is not merely on grounds of expedience that we do not\njoin you. There are positive difficulties in the way of it. And, even if\nthere were not, we shall have no divine warrant for doing so, while we\nthink that the Church of England is a branch of the true Church, and\nthat intercommunion with the rest of Christendom is necessary, not for\nthe life of a particular Church, but for its health only. I have never\ndisguised that there are actual circumstances in the Church of Rome,\nwhich pain me much; of the removal of these I see no chance, while we\njoin you one by one; but if our Church were prepared for a union, she\nmight make her terms; she might gain the cup; she might protest against\nthe extreme honours paid to St. Mary; she might make some explanation of\nthe doctrine of Transubstantiation. I am not prepared to say that a\nreform in other branches of the Roman Church would be necessary for our\nuniting with them, however desirable in itself, so that we were allowed\nto make a reform in our own country. We do not look towards Rome as\nbelieving that its communion is infallible, but that union is a duty.\"\n\n6. The following letter was occasioned by the present made to me of a\nbook by the friend to whom it is written; more will be said on the\nsubject of it presently:--\n\n\"Nov. 22, 1842. I only wish that your Church were more known among us by\nsuch writings. You will not interest us in her, till we see her, not in\npolitics, but in her true functions of exhorting, teaching, and guiding.\nI wish there were a chance of making the leading men among you\nunderstand, what I believe is no novel thought to yourself. It is not by\nlearned discussions, or acute arguments, or reports of miracles, that\nthe heart of England can be gained. It is by men 'approving themselves,'\nlike the Apostle, 'ministers of Christ.'\n\n\"As to your question, whether the Volume you have sent is not calculated\nto remove my apprehensions that another gospel is substituted for the\ntrue one in your practical instructions, before I can answer it in any\nway, I ought to know how far the Sermons which it comprises are\n_selected_ from a number, or whether they are the whole, or such as the\nwhole, which have been published of the author's. I assure you, or at\nleast I trust, that, if it is ever clearly brought home to me that I\nhave been wrong in what I have said on this subject, my public avowal of\nthat conviction will only be a question 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 have\nno necessary tendency, which you seem to expect, to draw a person from\nthe Church of England to that of Rome. There is a divine life among us,\nclearly manifested, in spite of all our disorders, which is as great a\nnote of the Church, as any can be. Why should we seek our Lord's\npresence elsewhere, when He vouchsafes it to us where we are? What\n_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 to\ntheir 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 can\nto 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\n\u00a7 2.\n\nThe letter which I have last inserted, is addressed to my dear friend,\nDr. Russell, the present President of Maynooth. He had, perhaps, more to\ndo with my conversion than any one else. He called upon me, in passing\nthrough Oxford in the summer of 1841, and I think I took him over some\nof the buildings of the University. He called again another summer, on\nhis way from Dublin to London. I do not recollect that he said a word on\nthe subject of religion on either occasion. He sent me at different\ntimes several letters; he was always gentle, mild, unobtrusive,\nuncontroversial. He let me alone. He also gave me one or two books.\nVeron's Rule of Faith and some Treatises of the Wallenburghs was one; a\nvolume of St. Alfonso Liguori's Sermons was another; and it is to those\nSermons that my letter to Dr. Russell relates.\n\nNow it must be observed that the writings of St. Alfonso, as I knew them\nby the extracts commonly made from them, prejudiced me as much against\nthe Roman Church as any thing else, on account of what was called their\n\"Mariolatry;\" but there was nothing of the kind in this book. I wrote to\nask Dr. Russell whether any thing had been left out in the translation;\nhe answered that there certainly were omissions in one Sermon about the\nBlessed Virgin. This omission, in the case of a book intended for\nCatholics, at least showed that such passages as are found in the works\nof Italian Authors were not acceptable to every part of the Catholic\nworld. Such devotional manifestations in honour of our Lady had been my\ngreat _crux_ as regards Catholicism; I say frankly, I do not fully enter\ninto them now; I trust I do not love her the less, because I cannot\nenter into them. They may be fully explained and defended; but sentiment\nand taste do not run with logic: they are suitable for Italy, but they\nare not suitable for England. But, over and above England, my own case\nwas special; from a boy I had been led to consider that my Maker and I,\nHis creature, were the two beings, luminously such, _in rerum natur\u00e2_. I\nwill not here speculate, however, about my own feelings. Only this I\nknow full well now, and did not know then, that the Catholic Church\nallows no image of any sort, material or immaterial, no dogmatic symbol,\nno rite, 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 vision\nof Him is our eternal beatitude.\n\n1. Solus cum solo:--I recollect but indistinctly what I gained from the\nVolume of which I have been speaking; but it must have been something\nconsiderable. At least I had got a key to a difficulty; in these\nSermons, (or rather heads of sermons, as they seem to be, taken down by\na hearer,) there is much of what would be called legendary illustration;\nbut the substance of them is plain, practical, awful preaching upon the\ngreat truths of salvation. What I can speak of with greater confidence\nis the effect produced on me a little later by studying the Exercises of\nSt. Ignatius. For here again, in a matter consisting in the purest and\nmost direct acts of 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 his\nfaith and love. The command practically enforced was, \"My son, give Me\nthy heart.\" The devotions then to Angels and Saints as little interfered\nwith the incommunicable glory of the Eternal, as the love which we bear\nour friends and relations, our tender human sympathies, are inconsistent\nwith that supreme homage of the heart to the Unseen, which really does\nbut sanctify and exalt, not jealously destroy, what is of earth. At a\nlater date Dr. Russell sent me a large bundle of penny or half-penny\nbooks of devotion, of all sorts, as they are found in the booksellers'\nshops at Rome; and, on looking them over, I was quite astonished to find\nhow different they were from what I had fancied, how little there was in\nthem to which I could really object. I have given an account of them in\nmy Essay on the Development of Doctrine. Dr. Russell sent me St.\nAlfonso's book at the end of 1842; however, it was still a long time\nbefore I got over my difficulty, on the score of the devotions paid to\nthe Saints; perhaps, as I judge from a letter I have turned up, it was\nsome way into 1844 before I could be said fully to have got over it.\n\n2. I am not sure that I did not also at this time feel the force of\nanother consideration. The idea of the Blessed Virgin was as it were\n_magnified_ in the Church of Rome, as time went on,--but so were all the\nChristian ideas; as that of the Blessed Eucharist. The whole scene of\npale, faint, distant Apostolic Christianity is seen in Rome, as through\na telescope 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\n3. Thus 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 made\nmention of it in the passage, which I quoted many pages back (vide p.\n111), in \"Home Thoughts Abroad,\" published in 1836; and even at an\nearlier date I had introduced it into my History of the Arians in 1832;\nnor had I ever lost sight of it in my speculations. And it is certainly\nrecognized in the Treatise of Vincent of Lerins, which has so often been\ntaken as the basis of Anglicanism. In 1843 I began to consider it\nattentively; I made it the subject of my last University Sermon on\nFebruary 2; and the general view to which I came is stated thus in a\nletter to a friend of the date of July 14, 1844;--it will be observed\nthat, now as before, my _issue_ is still Creed _versus_ Church:--\n\n\"The kind of considerations which weighs with me are such as the\nfollowing:--1. I am far more certain (according to the Fathers) that we\n_are_ in a state of culpable separation, _than_ that developments do\n_not_ exist under the Gospel, and that the Roman developments are not\nthe true ones. 2. I am far more certain, that _our_ (modern) doctrines\nare wrong, _than_ that the _Roman_ (modern) doctrines are wrong. 3.\nGranting that the Roman (special) doctrines are not found drawn out in\nthe early Church, yet I think there is sufficient trace of them in it,\nto recommend and prove them, _on the hypothesis_ of the Church having a\ndivine guidance, though not sufficient to prove them by itself. So that\nthe question simply turns on the nature of the promise of the Spirit,\nmade to the Church. 4. The proof of the Roman (modern) doctrine is as\nstrong (or stronger) in Antiquity, as that of certain doctrines which\nboth we and Romans hold: e.g. there is more of evidence in Antiquity for\nthe necessity of Unity, than for the Apostolical Succession; for the\nSupremacy of the See of Rome, than for the Presence in the Eucharist;\nfor the practice of Invocation, than for certain books in the present\nCanon of Scripture, &c. &c. 5. The analogy of the Old Testament, and\nalso of the New, leads to the acknowledgment of doctrinal developments.\"\n\n4. And thus I was led on to a further consideration. I saw that the\nprinciple of development not only accounted for certain facts, but was\nin itself a remarkable philosophical phenomenon, giving a character to\nthe whole course of Christian thought. It was discernible from the first\nyears of the Catholic teaching up to the present day, and gave to that\nteaching a unity and individuality. It served as a sort of test, which\nthe Anglican could not exhibit, that modern Rome was in truth ancient\nAntioch, Alexandria, and Constantinople, just as a mathematical curve\nhas its own law and expression.\n\n5. And thus again I was led on to examine more attentively what I doubt\nnot was in my thoughts long before, viz. the concatenation of argument\nby which the mind ascends from its first to its final religious idea;\nand I came to the conclusion that there was no medium, in true\nphilosophy, between Atheism and Catholicity, and that a perfectly\nconsistent mind, under those circumstances in which it finds itself here\nbelow, must embrace either the one or the other. And I hold this still:\nI am a Catholic by virtue of my believing in a God; and if I am asked\nwhy I believe in a God, I answer that it is because I believe in myself,\nfor I feel it impossible to believe in my own existence (and of that\nfact I am quite sure) without believing also in the existence of Him,\nwho lives as a Personal, All-seeing, All-judging Being in my conscience.\nNow, I dare say, I have not expressed myself with philosophical\ncorrectness, because I have not given myself to the study of what\nmetaphysicians have said on the subject; but I think I have a strong\ntrue meaning in what I say which will stand examination.\n\n6. Moreover, I found a corroboration of the fact of the logical\nconnexion of Theism with Catholicism in a consideration parallel to that\nwhich I had adopted on the subject of development of doctrine. The fact\nof the operation from first to last of that principle of development in\nthe truths of Revelation, is an argument in favour of the identity of\nRoman and Primitive Christianity; but as there is a law which acts upon\nthe subject-matter of dogmatic theology, so is there a law in the matter\nof religious faith. In the first chapter of this Narrative I spoke of\ncertitude as the consequence, divinely intended and enjoined upon us, of\nthe accumulative force of certain given reasons which, taken one by one,\nwere only probabilities. Let it be recollected that I am historically\nrelating my state of mind, at the period of my life which I am\nsurveying. I am not speaking theologically, nor have I any intention of\ngoing into controversy, or of defending myself; but speaking\nhistorically of what I held in 1843-4, I say, that I believed in a God\non a ground of probability, that I believed in Christianity on a\nprobability, and that I believed in Catholicism on a probability, and\nthat these three grounds of probability, distinct from each other of\ncourse in subject matter, were still all of them one and the same in\nnature of proof, as being probabilities--probabilities of a special\nkind, a cumulative, a transcendent probability but still probability;\ninasmuch as He who made us has so willed, that in mathematics indeed we\nshould arrive at certitude by rigid demonstration, but in religious\ninquiry we should arrive at certitude by accumulated probabilities;--He\nhas willed, I say, that we should so act, and, as willing it, He\nco-operates with us in our acting, and thereby enables us to do that\nwhich He wills us to do, and carries us on, if our will does but\nco-operate with His, to a certitude which rises higher than the logical\nforce of 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 Rome, I\nwas not proceeding on any secondary or isolated grounds of reason, or by\ncontroversial points in detail, but was protected and justified, even in\nthe use of those secondary or particular arguments, by a great and broad\nprinciple. But, let it be observed, that I am stating a matter of fact,\nnot defending it; and if any Catholic says in consequence that I have\nbeen converted in a wrong way, I cannot help that now.\n\nI have nothing more to say on the subject of the change in my religious\nopinions. On the one hand I came gradually to see that the Anglican\nChurch was formally in the wrong, on the other that the Church of Rome\nwas formally in the right; then, that no valid reasons could be assigned\nfor continuing in the Anglican, and again that no valid objections could\nbe taken to joining the Roman. Then, I had nothing more to learn; what\nstill remained for my conversion, was, not further change of opinion,\nbut to change opinion itself into the clearness and firmness of\nintellectual conviction.\n\nNow I proceed to detail the acts, to which I committed myself during\nthis last stage of my inquiry.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn 1843, I took two very significant steps:--1. In February, I made a\nformal Retractation of all the hard things which I had said against the\nChurch of Rome. 2. In September, I resigned the Living of St. Mary's,\nLittlemore included:--I will speak of these two acts separately.\n\n1. The words, in which I made my Retractation, have given rise to much\ncriticism. After quoting a number of passages from my writings against\nthe Church of Rome, which I withdrew, I ended thus:--\"If you ask me how\nan individual could venture, not simply to hold, but to publish such\nviews of a communion so ancient, so wide-spreading, so fruitful in\nSaints, I answer that I said to myself, 'I am not speaking my own words,\nI am but following almost a _consensus_ of the divines of my own Church.\nThey have ever used the strongest language against Rome, even the most\nable and learned of them. I wish to throw myself into their system.\nWhile I say what they say, I am safe. Such views, too, are necessary for\nour position.' Yet I have reason to fear still, that such language is to\nbe ascribed, in no small measure, to an impetuous temper, a hope of\napproving myself to persons I respect, and a wish to repel the charge of\nRomanism.\"\n\nThese words have been, and are, again and again cited against me, as if\na confession that, when in the Anglican Church, I said things against\nRome which I did not really believe.\n\nFor myself, I cannot understand how any impartial man can so take them;\nand I have explained them in print several times. I trust that by this\ntime their plain meaning has been satisfactorily brought out by what I\nhave said in former portions of this Narrative; still I have a word or\ntwo to say in addition to my former remarks upon them.\n\nIn the passage in question I apologize for _saying out_ in controversy\ncharges against the Church of Rome, which withal I affirm that I fully\n_believed_ at the time when I made them. What is wonderful in such an\napology? There are surely many things a man may hold, which at the same\ntime he may feel that he has no right to say publicly, and which it may\nannoy him that he has said publicly. The law recognizes this principle.\nIn our own time, men have been imprisoned and fined for saying true\nthings of a bad king. The maxim has been held, that, \"The greater the\ntruth, the greater is the libel.\" And so as to the judgment of society,\na just indignation would be felt against a writer who brought forward\nwantonly the weaknesses of a great man, though the whole world knew that\nthey existed. No one is at liberty to speak ill of another without a\njustifiable reason, even though he knows he is speaking truth, and the\npublic knows it too. Therefore, though I believed what I said against\nthe Roman Church, nevertheless I could not religiously speak it out,\nunless I was really justified, not only in believing ill, but in\nspeaking ill. I did believe what I said on what I thought to be good\nreasons; but had I also a just cause for saying out what I believed? I\nthought I had, and it was this, viz. that to say out what I believed was\nsimply necessary in the controversy for self-defence. It was impossible\nto let it alone: the Anglican position could not be satisfactorily\nmaintained, without assailing the Roman. In this, as in most cases of\nconflict, one party was right or the other, not both; and the best\ndefence was to attack. Is not this almost a truism in the Roman\ncontroversy? Is it not what every one says, who speaks on the subject at\nall? Does any serious man abuse the Church of Rome, for the sake of\nabusing her, or because that abuse justifies his own religious position?\nWhat is the meaning of the very word \"Protestantism,\" but that there is\na call to speak out? This then is what I said: \"I know I spoke strongly\nagainst the Church of Rome; but it was no mere abuse, for I had a\nserious reason for doing so.\"\n\nBut, not only did I think such language necessary for my Church's\nreligious position, but I recollected that all the great Anglican\ndivines had thought so before me. They had thought so, and they had\nacted accordingly. And therefore I observe in the passage in question,\nwith much propriety, that I had not used strong language simply out of\nmy own head, but that in doing so I was following the track, or rather\nreproducing the teaching, of those who had preceded me.\n\nI was pleading guilty to using violent language, but I was pleading also\nthat there were extenuating circumstances in the case. We all know the\nstory of the convict, who on the scaffold bit off his mother's ear. By\ndoing so he did not deny the fact of his own crime, for which he was to\nhang; but he said that his mother's indulgence when he was a boy, had a\ngood deal to do with it. In like manner I had made a charge, and I had\nmade it _ex animo_; but I accused others of having, by their own\nexample, led me into believing it and publishing it.\n\nI was in a humour, certainly, to bite off their ears. I will freely\nconfess, indeed I said it some pages back, that I was angry with the\nAnglican divines. I thought they had taken me in; I had read the Fathers\nwith their eyes; I had sometimes trusted their quotations or their\nreasonings; and from reliance on them, I had used words or made\nstatements, which by right I ought rigidly to have examined myself. I\nhad thought myself safe, while I had their warrant for what I said. I\nhad exercised more faith than criticism in the matter. This did not\nimply any broad misstatements on my part, arising from reliance on their\nauthority, but it implied carelessness in matters of detail. And this of\ncourse 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 most\noppressive thought, in the whole process of my change of opinion, was\nthe clear anticipation, verified by the event, that it would issue in\nthe triumph of Liberalism. Against the Anti-dogmatic principle I had\nthrown my whole mind; yet now I was doing more than any one else could\ndo, to promote it. I was one of those who had kept it at bay in Oxford\nfor so many years; and thus my very retirement was its triumph. The men\nwho had driven me from Oxford were distinctly the Liberals; it was they\nwho had opened the attack upon Tract 90, and it was they who would gain\na second benefit, if I went on to abandon the Anglican Church. But this\nwas not all. As I have already said, there are but two alternatives, the\nway to Rome, and the way to Atheism: Anglicanism is the halfway house on\nthe one side, and Liberalism is the halfway house on the other. How many\nmen were 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) to\nwind up an Englishman to a dogmatic level. I had done so in good\nmeasure, in the case both of young men and of laymen, the Anglican _Via\nMedia_ being the representative of dogma. The dogmatic and the Anglican\nprinciple were one, as I had taught them; but I was breaking the _Via\nMedia_ to pieces, and would not dogmatic faith altogether be broken up,\nin the minds of a great number, by the demolition of the _Via Media_?\nOh! how unhappy this made me! I heard once from an eye-witness the\naccount of a poor sailor whose legs were shattered by a ball, in the\naction off Algiers in 1816, and who was taken below for an operation.\nThe surgeon and the chaplain persuaded him to have a leg off; it was\ndone and the tourniquet applied to the wound. Then, they broke it to him\nthat he must have the other off too. The poor fellow said, \"You should\nhave told me that, gentlemen,\" and deliberately unscrewed the instrument\nand bled to death. Would not that be the case with many friends of my\nown? How could I ever hope to make them believe in a second theology,\nwhen I had cheated them in the first? With what face could I publish a\nnew edition of a dogmatic creed, and ask them to receive it as gospel?\nWould it not be plain to them that no certainty was to be found any\nwhere? Well, in my defence I could but make a lame apology; however, it\nwas the true one, viz. that I had not read the Fathers cautiously\nenough; that in such nice points, as those which determine the angle of\ndivergence between the two Churches, I had made considerable\nmiscalculations. But how came this about? why, the fact was, unpleasant\nas it was to avow, that I had leaned too much upon the assertions of\nUssher, Jeremy Taylor, or Barrow, and had been deceived by them. Valeat\nquantum,--it was all that _could_ be said. This then was a chief reason\nof that wording of the Retractation, which has given so much offence,\nbecause the bitterness, with which it was written, was not\nunderstood;--and the following letter will illustrate it:--\n\n\"April 3, 1844. I wish to remark on William'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 say, I\nam not going to speak in favour of my second thoughts in comparison of\nmy first, but against such scepticism and unsettlement about truth and\nfalsehood generally, the idea of which is very painful.\n\n\"The case with me, then, was this, and not surely an unnatural one:--as\na matter of feeling and of duty I threw myself into the system which I\nfound myself in. I saw that the English Church had a theological idea or\ntheory as such, and I took it up. I read Laud on Tradition, and thought\nit (as I still think it) very masterly. The Anglican Theory was very\ndistinctive. I admired it and took it on faith. It did not (I think)\noccur to me to doubt it; I saw that it was able, and supported by\nlearning, and I felt it was a duty to maintain it. Further, on looking\ninto Antiquity and reading the Fathers, I saw such portions of it as I\nexamined, fully confirmed (e.g. the supremacy of Scripture). There was\nonly one question about which I had a doubt, viz. whether it would\n_work_, for it has never been more than a paper system....\n\n\"So far from my change of opinion having any fair tendency to unsettle\npersons as to truth and falsehood viewed as objective realities, it\nshould be considered whether such change is not _necessary_, if truth be\na real objective thing, and be made to confront a person who has been\nbrought up in a system _short of_ truth. Surely the _continuance_ of a\nperson, who wishes to go right, in a wrong system, and not his _giving\nit up_, would be that which militated against the objectiveness of\nTruth, leading, as it would, to the suspicion, that one thing and\nanother were equally pleasing to our 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. For\nis it not one's duty, instead of beginning with criticism, to throw\noneself generously into that form of religion which is providentially\nput before one? Is it right, or is it wrong, to begin with private\njudgment? May we not, on the other hand, look for a blessing _through_\nobedience even to an erroneous system, and a guidance even by means of\nit out of it? Were those who were strict and conscientious in their\nJudaism, or those who were lukewarm and sceptical, more likely to be led\ninto Christianity, when Christ came? Yet in proportion to their previous\nzeal, would be their appearance of inconsistency. Certainly, I have\nalways contended that obedience even to an erring conscience was the way\nto gain light, and that it mattered not where a man began, so that he\nbegan on what came to hand, and in faith; and that any thing might\nbecome a divine method of Truth; that to the pure all things are pure,\nand have a self-correcting virtue and a power of germinating. And though\nI have no right at all to assume that this mercy is granted to me, yet\nthe fact, 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 opinion\nwithout any of the misery, which now is involved in the change, of\ndisappointing and distressing people.' I answer, that things are so\nbound up together, as to form a whole, and one cannot tell what is or is\nnot a condition of what. I do not see how possibly I could have\npublished the Tracts, or other works professing to defend our Church,\nwithout accompanying them with a strong protest or argument against\nRome. The one obvious objection against the whole Anglican line is, that\nit is Roman; so that I really think there was no alternative between\nsilence altogether, and forming a theory and attacking the Roman\nsystem.\"\n\n2. And now, in the next place, as to my Resignation of St. Mary's, which\nwas the second of the steps which I took in 1843. The ostensible,\ndirect, and sufficient reason for my doing so was the persevering attack\nof the Bishops on Tract 90. I alluded to it in the letter which I have\ninserted above, addressed to one of the most influential among them. A\nseries of their _ex cathedr\u00e2_ judgments, lasting through three years,\nand including a notice of no little severity in a Charge of my own\nBishop, came as near to a condemnation of my Tract, and, so far, to a\nrepudiation of the ancient Catholic doctrine, which was the scope of the\nTract, as was possible in the Church of England. It was in order to\nshield the Tract from such a condemnation, that I had at the time of its\npublication in 1841 so simply put myself at the disposal of the higher\npowers in London. At that time, all that was distinctly contemplated in\nthe way of censure, was contained in the message which my Bishop sent\nme, that the Tract 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 published 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 to\nsuppress Tract 90, though _of course_ I will do it if the Bishop wishes\nit; I cannot, however, deny that I shall feel it a severe act.\"\nAccording to the notes which I took of the letters or messages which I\nsent to him on that and the following days, I wrote successively, \"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 Bishop\nthis favour, as my reward for it, that he would not insist on a measure,\nfrom which I think good will not come. However, I will submit to him.\"\nAfterwards, I got stronger still and wrote: \"I have almost come to the\nresolution, if the Bishop publicly intimates that I must suppress the\nTract, or speaks strongly in his charge against it, to suppress it\nindeed, but to resign my living also. I could not in conscience act\notherwise. You may show this in any quarter you please.\"\n\nAll my then hopes, all my satisfaction at the apparent fulfilment of\nthose hopes was at an end in 1843. It is not wonderful then, that in May\nof that year, when two out of the three years were gone, I wrote on the\nsubject of my retiring from St. Mary's to the same friend, whom I had\nconsulted upon it in 1840. But I did more now; I told him my great\nunsettlement of mind on the question of the Churches. I will insert\nportions of two of my letters:--\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 of\nthe Apostles, and that what grace is among us (which, through God's\nmercy, is not little) is extraordinary, and from the overflowings of His\ndispensation. I am very far more sure that England is in schism, than\nthat the Roman additions to the Primitive Creed may not be developments,\narising out of a keen and vivid realizing of the Divine Depositum of\nFaith.\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 is\nfrom 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 the\nBishop? how am I to act in the frequent cases, in which one way or\nanother 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, were\nof 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. Persons\nare keen-sighted enough to make out what I think on certain points, and\nthen they infer that such opinions are compatible with holding\nsituations of trust in our Church. A number of younger men take the\nvalidity of their interpretation of the Articles, &c. from me on\n_faith_. Is not my present position a cruelty, as well as a treachery\ntowards the Church?\n\n\"I do not see how I can either preach or publish again, while I hold St.\nMary'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 publisher]\nupon it. I thought it would be useful, as employing the minds of men who\nwere in danger of running wild, bringing them from doctrine to history,\nand from speculation to fact;--again, as giving them an interest in the\nEnglish soil, and the English Church, and keeping them from seeking\nsympathy in Rome, as she is; and further, as tending to promote the\nspread 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 keep\nquiet? what business had you to think of any such plan at all?' But I\ncannot leave a number of poor fellows in the lurch. I am bound to do my\nbest for a great number of people both in Oxford and elsewhere. If _I_\ndid 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 them\nengaged, the rest half engaged and probable, some actually writing.\"\nAbout thirty names follow, some of them at that time of the school of\nDr. Arnold, others of Dr. Pusey's, some my personal friends and of my\nown standing, others whom I hardly knew, while of course the majority\nwere of the party of the new Movement. I continue:--\n\n\"The plan has gone so far, that it would create surprise and talk, were\nit now suddenly given over. Yet how is it compatible with my holding St.\nMary's, being what I am?\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSuch was the object and the origin of the projected Series of the\nEnglish Saints; and, since 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 may read like a\ndigression. As soon then as the first of the Series got into print, the\nwhole project broke down. I had already anticipated that some portions\nof the Series would be written in a style inconsistent with the\nprofessions of a beneficed clergyman, and therefore I had given up my\nLiving; but men of great weight went further in their misgivings than I,\nwhen they saw the Life of St. Stephen Harding, and decided that it was\nof a character inconsistent even with its proceeding from an Anglican\npublisher: and so the scheme was given up at once. After the two first\nnumbers, I retired from the Editorship, and those Lives only were\npublished in addition, which were then already finished, or in advanced\npreparation. The following passages from what I or others wrote at the\ntime will illustrate what I have been saying:--\n\nIn November, 1844, I wrote thus to the author of one of them: \"I am not\nEditor, I have no direct control over the Series. It is T.'s work; he\nmay admit what he pleases; and exclude what he pleases. I was to have\nbeen Editor. I did edit the two first numbers. I was responsible for\nthem, in the way in which an Editor is responsible. Had I continued\nEditor, I should have exercised a control over all. I laid down in the\nPreface that doctrinal subjects were, if possible, to be excluded. But,\neven then, I also set down that no writer was to be held answerable for\nany of the Lives but his own. When I gave up the Editorship, I had\nvarious engagements with friends for separate Lives remaining on my\nhands. I should have liked to have broken from them all, but there were\nsome from which I could not break, and I let them take their course.\nSome have come to nothing; others like yours have gone on. I have seen\nsuch, either in MS. or Proof. As time goes on, I shall have less and\nless to do with the Series. I think the engagement between you and me\nshould come to an end. I have any how abundant responsibility on me, and\ntoo much. I shall write to T. that if he wants the advantage of your\nassistance, he must write to you direct.\"\n\nIn accordance with this letter, I had already advertised in January\n1844, ten months before it, that \"other Lives,\" after St. Stephen\nHarding, would \"be published by their respective authors on their own\nresponsibility.\" This notice was repeated in February, in the\nadvertisement to the second number entitled \"The Family of St. Richard,\"\nthough to this number, for some reason which I cannot now recollect, I\nalso put my initials. In the Life of St. Augustine, the author, a man of\nnearly my own age, says in like manner, \"No one but himself is\nresponsible for the way in which these materials have been used.\" I have\nin MS. another advertisement to the same effect, but I cannot tell\nwhether it ever appeared in print.\n\nI will add, since the authors have been considered \"hot-headed fanatic\nyoung men,\" whom I was in charge of, and whom I suffered to do\nintemperate things, that, while the writer of St. Augustine was in 1844\npast forty, the author of the proposed Life of St. Boniface, Mr. Bowden,\nwas forty-six; Mr. Johnson, who was to write St. Aldhelm, forty-three;\nand most of the others were on one side or other of thirty. Three, I\nthink, were under twenty-five. Moreover, of these writers some became\nCatholics, some remained Anglicans, and others have professed what are\ncalled free or liberal opinions[14].\n\n[14] Vide Note D, _Lives of the English Saints_.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\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 Lordship,\nthat Mr. A. B., who has been for the last year an inmate of my house\nhere, has just conformed to the Church of Rome. As I have ever been\ndesirous, not only of faithfully discharging the trust, which is\ninvolved in holding a living in your Lordship's diocese, but of\napproving myself to your Lordship, I will for your information state one\nor two circumstances connected with this unfortunate event.... I\nreceived him on condition of his promising me, which he distinctly did,\nthat he would remain quietly in our Church for three years. A year has\npassed since that time, and, though I saw nothing in him which promised\nthat he would eventually be contented with his present position, yet for\nthe time his mind became as settled as one could wish, and he frequently\nexpressed his satisfaction at being under the promise which I had\nexacted of him.\"\n\nI felt it impossible to remain any longer in the service of the Anglican\nChurch, when such a breach of trust, however little I had to do with it,\nwould be laid at my door. I wrote in a few days to a friend:\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 any thing. I am going\nto publish a Volume of Sermons, including those Four against moving.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nI resigned my living on September the 18th. I had not the means of doing\nit legally at Oxford. The late Mr. Goldsmid was kind enough to aid me in\nresigning it in London. I found no fault with the Liberals; they had\nbeaten me in a fair field. As to the act of the Bishops, I thought, to\nborrow a Scriptural image from Walter Scott, that they had \"seethed the\nkid in his mother's milk.\"\n\nI said to a friend:--\n\n  \"Victrix causa diis placuit, sed victa Catoni.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnd now I may be almost said to have brought to an end, as far as is\nnecessary for a sketch such as this is, the history both of my changes\nof religious opinion and of the public acts which they involved.\n\nI had one final advance of mind to accomplish, and one final step to\ntake. That further advance of mind was to be able honestly to say that I\nwas _certain_ of the conclusions at which I had already arrived. That\nfurther step, imperative when such certitude was attained, was my\n_submission_ to the Catholic Church.\n\nThis submission did not take place till two full years after the\nresignation of my living in September 1843; nor could I have made it at\nan earlier day, without doubt and apprehension, that is, with any true\nconviction of mind or certitude.\n\nIn the interval, of which it remains to speak, viz. between the autumns\nof 1843 and 1845, I was in lay communion with the Church of England,\nattending its services as usual, and abstaining altogether from\nintercourse with Catholics, from their places of worship, and from those\nreligious rites and usages, such as the Invocation of Saints, which are\ncharacteristics of their creed. I did all this on principle; for I never\ncould understand how a man could be of two religions at once.\n\nWhat I have to say about myself between these two autumns I shall almost\nconfine to this one point,--the difficulty I was in, as to the best mode\nof revealing the state of my mind to my friends and others, and how I\nmanaged to reveal it.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nUp to January, 1842, I had not disclosed my state of unsettlement to\nmore than three persons, as has been mentioned above, and as is repeated\nin the course of the letters which I am now about to give to the reader.\nTo two of them, intimate and familiar companions, in the Autumn of 1839:\nto the third, an old friend too, whom I have also named above, I\nsuppose, when I was in great distress of mind upon the affair of the\nJerusalem Bishopric. In May, 1843, I made it known, as has been seen, to\nthe friend, by whose advice I wished, as far as possible, to be guided.\nTo mention it on set purpose to any one, unless indeed I was asking\nadvice, I should have felt to be a crime. If there is any thing that was\nabhorrent to me, it was the scattering doubts, and unsettling\nconsciences without necessity. A strong presentiment that my existing\nopinions would ultimately give way, and that the grounds of them were\nunsound, was not a sufficient warrant for disclosing the state of my\nmind. I had no guarantee yet, that that presentiment would be realized.\nSupposing I were crossing ice, which came right in my way, which I had\ngood reasons for considering sound, and which I saw numbers before me\ncrossing in safety, and supposing a stranger from the bank, in a voice\nof authority, and in an earnest tone, warned me that it was dangerous,\nand then was silent, I think I should be startled, and should look about\nme anxiously, but I think too that I 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 at\nfirst to determine the point of time, when it was too strong to suppress\nwith propriety. Certitude of course is a point, but doubt is a progress;\nI was not near certitude yet. Certitude is a reflex action; it is to\nknow that one knows. Of that I believe I was not possessed, till close\nupon 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 of\nopinion begin to turn, and what was a greater probability in behalf of a\nbelief becomes a positive doubt against it?\n\nIn considering this question in its bearing upon my conduct in 1843, my\nown simple answer to my great difficulty had been, _Do_ what your\npresent state of opinion requires in the light of duty, and let that\n_doing_ tell: speak by _acts_. This I had done; my first _act_ of the\nyear had been in February. After three months' deliberation I had\npublished my retractation of the violent charges which I had made\nagainst Rome: I could not be wrong in doing so much as this; but I did\nno more at the time: I did not retract my Anglican teaching. My second\n_act_ had been in September in the same year; after much sorrowful\nlingering and hesitation, I had resigned my Living. I tried indeed,\nbefore I did so, to keep Littlemore for myself, even though it was still\nto remain an integral part of St. Mary's. I had given to it a Church and\na sort of Parsonage; I had made it a Parish, and I loved it; I thought\nin 1843 that perhaps I need not forfeit my existing relations towards\nit. I could indeed submit to become the curate at will of another, but I\nhoped an arrangement was possible, by which, while I had the curacy, I\nmight have been my own master in serving it. I had hoped an exception\nmight have been made in my favour, under the circumstances; but I did\nnot gain my request. Perhaps I was asking what was impracticable, and it\nis well for me that it was so.\n\nThese had been my two acts of the year, and I said, \"I cannot be wrong\nin making them; let that follow which must follow in the thoughts of the\nworld about me, when they see what I do.\" And, as time went on, they\nfully answered my purpose. What I felt it a simple duty to do, did\ncreate a general suspicion about me, without such responsibility as\nwould be involved in my initiating any direct act for the sake of\ncreating it. Then, when friends wrote me on the subject, I either did\nnot deny or I confessed my state of mind, according to the character and\nneed of their letters. Sometimes in the case of intimate friends, whom I\nshould otherwise have been leaving in ignorance of what others knew on\nevery side of them, I invited the question.\n\nAnd here comes in another point for explanation. While I was fighting in\nOxford for the Anglican Church, then indeed I was very glad to make\nconverts, and, though I never broke away from that rule of my mind, (as\nI may call it,) of which I have already spoken, of finding disciples\nrather than seeking them, yet, that I made advances to others in a\nspecial way, I have no doubt; this came to an end, however, as soon as I\nfell into misgivings as to the true ground to be taken in the\ncontroversy. For then, when I gave up my place in the Movement, I ceased\nfrom any such proceedings: and my utmost endeavour was to tranquillize\nsuch persons, especially those who belonged to the new school, as were\nunsettled in their religious views, and, as I judged, hasty in their\nconclusions. This went on till 1843; but, at that date, as soon as I\nturned my face Rome-ward, I gave up, as far as ever was possible, the\nthought of in any respect and in any shape acting upon others. Then I\nmyself was simply my own concern. How could I in any sense direct\nothers, who had to be guided in so momentous a matter myself? How could\nI be considered in a position, even to say a word to them one way or the\nother? How could I presume to unsettle them, as I was unsettled, when I\nhad no means of bringing them out of such unsettlement? And, if they\nwere unsettled already, how could I point to them a place of refuge,\nwhen I was not sure that I should choose it for myself? My only line, my\nonly duty, was to keep simply to my own case. I recollected Pascal's\nwords, \"Je mourrai seul.\" I deliberately put out of my thoughts all\nother works and claims, and said nothing to any one, unless I was\nobliged.\n\nBut this brought upon me a great trouble. In the newspapers there were\ncontinual reports about my intentions; I did not answer them; presently\nstrangers or friends wrote, begging to be allowed to answer them; and,\nif I still kept to my resolution and said nothing, then I was thought to\nbe mysterious, and a prejudice was excited against me. But, what was far\nworse, there were a number of tender, eager hearts, of whom I knew\nnothing at all, who were watching me, wishing to think as I thought, and\nto do as I did, if they could but find it out; who in consequence were\ndistressed, that, in so solemn a matter, they could not see what was\ncoming, and who heard reports about me this way or that, on a first day\nand on a second; and felt the weariness of waiting, and the sickness of\ndelayed hope, and did not understand that I was as perplexed as they\nwere, and, being of more sensitive complexion of mind than myself, were\nmade ill by the suspense. And they too of course for the time thought me\nmysterious and inexplicable. I ask their pardon as far as I was really\nunkind to them. There was a gifted and deeply earnest lady, who in a\nparabolical account of that time, has described both my conduct as she\nfelt it, and her own feelings upon it. In a singularly graphic, amusing\nvision of pilgrims, who were making their way across a bleak common in\ngreat discomfort, and who were ever warned against, yet continually\nnearing, \"the king's highway\" on the right, she says, \"All my fears and\ndisquiets were speedily renewed by seeing the most daring of our\nleaders, (the same who had first forced his way through the palisade,\nand in whose courage and sagacity we all put implicit trust,) suddenly\nstop short, and declare that he would go on no further. He did not,\nhowever, take the leap at once, but quietly sat down on the top of the\nfence with his feet hanging towards the road, as if he meant to take his\ntime about it, and let himself down easily.\" I do not wonder at all that\nI thus seemed so unkind to a lady, who at that time had never seen me.\nWe were both in trial in our different ways. I am far from denying that\nI was acting selfishly both in her case and in that of others; but it\nwas a religious selfishness. Certainly to myself my own duty seemed\nclear. They that are whole can heal others; but in my case it was,\n\"Physician, heal thyself.\" My own soul was my first concern, and it\nseemed an absurdity to my reason to be converted in partnership. I\nwished to go to my Lord by myself, and in my own way, or rather His way.\nI had neither wish, nor, I may say, thought of taking a number with me.\nMoreover, it is but the truth to say, that it had ever been an annoyance\nto me to seem to be the head of a party; and that even from\nfastidiousness of mind, I could not bear to find a thing done elsewhere,\nsimply or mainly because I did it myself, and that, from distrust of\nmyself, I shrank from the thought, whenever it was brought home to me,\nthat I was influencing others. But nothing of this could be known to the\nworld.\n\nThe following three letters are written to a friend, who had every claim\nupon me to be frank with him, Archdeacon Manning:--it will be seen that\nI disclose the real state of my mind 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. But\nit is most difficult to bring out in brief, or even _in extenso_, any\njust view of my feelings and reasons.\n\n\"The nearest approach I can give to a general account of them is to say,\nthat 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, of\nall classes in the Church, lay and clerical. If there ever was a case,\nin which an individual teacher has been put aside and virtually put away\nby a community, mine is one. No decency has been observed in the attacks\nupon me from authority; no protests have been offered against them. It\nis felt,--I am far from denying, justly felt,--that I am a foreign\nmaterial, and cannot assimilate with the Church of England.\n\n\"Even my own Bishop has said that my mode of interpreting the Articles\nmakes them mean _any thing or nothing_. When I heard this delivered, I\ndid not believe my ears. I denied to others that it was said.... Out\ncame the charge, and the words could not be mistaken. This astonished me\nthe more, because I published that Letter to him, (how unwillingly you\nknow,) on the understanding that _I_ was to deliver his judgment on No.\n90 _instead_ of him. A year elapses, and a second and heavier judgment\ncame forth. I did not bargain for this,--nor did he, but the tide was\ntoo strong for him.\n\n\"I fear that I must confess, that, in proportion as I think the English\nChurch is showing herself intrinsically and radically alien from\nCatholic principles, so do I feel the difficulties of defending her\nclaims to be a branch of the Catholic Church. It seems a dream to call a\ncommunion Catholic, when one can neither appeal to any clear statement\nof Catholic doctrine in its formularies, nor interpret ambiguous\nformularies by the received and living Catholic sense, whether past or\npresent. Men of Catholic views are too truly but a party in our Church.\nI cannot deny that many other independent circumstances, which it is not\nworth while entering into, have led me to the same conclusion.\n\n\"I do not say all this to every body, as you may suppose; but I do not\nlike to make a secret of it to you.\"\n\n2. \"Oct. 25, 1843. You have engaged in a dangerous correspondence; I am\ndeeply 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, or\nimpatience, that I have, whether rightly or wrongly, resigned St.\nMary's; but because I think the Church of Rome the Catholic Church, and\nours not part of the Catholic Church, because not in communion with\nRome; and because I feel that I could not honestly be a teacher in it\nany 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[15], and when all was progress and hope. I do not think I\nhave ever felt disappointment or impatience, certainly not then; for I\nnever looked forward to the future, nor do I realize 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 I\nhave written little or nothing on modern controversy.... You know how\nunwillingly I wrote my letter to the Bishop in which I committed myself\nagain, as the safest course under circumstances. The article I speak of\nquieted me till the end of 1841, over the affair of No. 90, when that\nwretched Jerusalem Bishopric (no personal matter) revived all my alarms.\nThey have increased up to this moment. At that time I told my secret to\nanother person in addition.\n\n\"You see then that the various ecclesiastical and quasi-ecclesiastical\nacts, which have taken place in the course of the last two years and a\nhalf, are not the _cause_ of my state of opinion, but are keen\nstimulants and weighty confirmations of a conviction forced upon me,\nwhile engaged in the _course of duty_, viz. that theological reading to\nwhich I had given myself. And this last-mentioned circumstance is a\nfact, which has never, I think, come before me till now that I write to\nyou.\n\n\"It is three years since, on account of my state of opinion, I urged the\nProvost in vain to let St. Mary's be separated from Littlemore; thinking\nI might with a safe conscience serve the latter, though I could not\ncomfortably continue in so public a place as a University. This was\nbefore No. 90.\n\n\"Finally, I have acted under advice, and that, not of my own choosing,\nbut what came to me in the way of duty, nor the advice of those only who\nagree 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 matter\nof impatience; i.e. practically or in conduct. And I trust that He, who\nhas kept me in the slow course of change hitherto, will keep me still\nfrom 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 realize my own\nviews to myself; it makes me see their consistency; it assures me of my\nown deliberateness; it suggests to me the traces of a Providential Hand;\nit takes away the pain of disclosures; it relieves me of a heavy secret.\n\n\"You may make what use of my letters you think right.\"\n\n[15] I think Sumner, Bishop of Chester, must have done so already.\n\n3. My 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 you\nthere is much on all sides of me to cause sighing and heartache. On all\nsides:--I am quite haunted by the one dreadful whisper repeated from so\nmany quarters, and causing the keenest distress to friends. You know but\na part of my present trial, in knowing that I am unsettled myself.\n\n\"Since the beginning of this year I have been obliged to tell the state\nof my mind to some others; but never, I think, without being in a way\nobliged, as from friends writing to me as you did, or guessing how\nmatters stood. No one in Oxford knows it or here\" [Littlemore], \"but one\nnear friend whom I felt I could not help telling the other day. But, I\nsuppose, many more suspect it.\"\n\nOn receiving these letters, my correspondent, if I recollect rightly, at\nonce communicated the matter of them to Dr. Pusey, and this will enable\nme to describe, as nearly as I can, the way in which he first became\naware of my changed state of opinion.\n\nI had from the first a great difficulty in making Dr. Pusey understand\nsuch differences of opinion as existed between himself and me. When\nthere was a proposal about the end of 1838 for a subscription for a\nCranmer Memorial, he wished us both to subscribe together to it. I could\nnot, of course, and wished him to subscribe by himself. That he would\nnot do; he could not bear the thought of our appearing to the world in\nseparate positions, in a matter of importance. And, as time went on, he\nwould not take any hints, which I gave him, on the subject of my growing\ninclination to Rome. When I found him so determined, I often had not the\nheart to go on. And then I knew, that, from affection to me, he so often\ntook up and threw himself into what I said, that I felt the great\nresponsibility I should incur, if I put things before him just as I\nmight view them myself. And, not knowing him so well as I did\nafterwards, I feared lest I should unsettle him. And moreover, I\nrecollected well, how prostrated he had been with illness in 1832, and I\nused always to think that the start of the Movement had given him a\nfresh life. I fancied that his physical energies even depended on the\npresence of a vigorous hope and bright prospects for his imagination to\nfeed upon; so much so, that when he was so unworthily treated by the\nauthorities of the place in 1843, I recollect writing to the late Mr.\nDodsworth to state my anxiety, lest, if his mind became dejected in\nconsequence, his health should suffer seriously also. These were\ndifficulties in my way; and then again, another difficulty was, that, as\nwe were not together under the same roof, we only saw each other at set\ntimes; others indeed, who were coming in or out of my rooms freely, and\naccording to the need of 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 gone\nat that time, and showed him clearly the logical conclusions which must\nlie in propositions to which I had committed myself; but somehow or\nother in a little while, his mind fell back into its former happy state,\nand he could not bring himself to believe that he and I should not go on\npleasantly together to the end. But that affectionate dream needs must\nhave been broken at last; and two years afterwards, that friend to whom\nI wrote the letters which I have just now inserted, set himself, as I\nhave said, to break it. Upon that, I too begged Dr. Pusey to tell in\nprivate to any one he would, that I thought in the event I should leave\nthe Church of England. However, he would not do so; and at the end of\n1844 had almost relapsed into his former thoughts about me, if I may\njudge from a letter of his which I have found. Nay, at the Commemoration\nof 1845, a few months before I left the Anglican Church, I think he said\nabout me to a friend, \"I trust after all we shall keep him.\"\n\nIn that autumn of 1843, at the time that I spoke to Dr. Pusey, I asked\nanother friend also to communicate in confidence, to whom he would, the\nprospect which lay before me.\n\nTo another friend, Mr. James Hope, now Mr. Hope Scott, I gave the\nopportunity of knowing it, if he would, in the following Postscript to a\nletter:--\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 of\nfeeling than you do, though they would not tell you. Now I do not like\nthat you should not be aware of this, though I see no _reason_ why you\nshould know what they happen to know. Your wishing it would _be_ a\nreason.\"\n\nI had a dear and old friend, near his death; I never told him my state\nof mind. Why should I unsettle that sweet calm tranquillity, when I had\nnothing to offer him instead? I could not say, \"Go to Rome;\" else I\nshould have shown him the way. Yet I offered myself for his examination.\nOne day he led the way to my speaking out; but, rightly or wrongly, I\ncould not respond. My reason was, \"I have no certainty on the matter\nmyself. To say 'I think' is to tease and to distress, 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 moved\nto tears, and it would be a relief to be so, at your kindness and at my\nhardness. I think no one ever had such kind friends as I have.\"\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 to\nlay 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; the\nlike has not happened to me (except twice in January) in my memory. You\nmay think you have been in my thoughts, long before my rising. Of course\nyou are so continually, as you well know. I could not come to see you; I\nam not worthy of friends. With my opinions, to the full of which I dare\nnot confess, I feel like a guilty person with others, though I trust I\nam not so. People kindly think that I have much to bear externally,\ndisappointment, slander, &c. No, I have nothing to bear, but the anxiety\nwhich I feel for my friends' anxiety for me, and their perplexity. This\nis a better Ash-Wednesday than birthday present;\" [his birthday was the\nsame day as mine; it was Ash-Wednesday that year;] \"but I cannot help\nwriting about what is uppermost. And now, my dear B., all kindest and\nbest wishes to you, my oldest friend, whom I must not speak more about,\nand with reference to myself, lest you should be angry.\" It was not in\nhis nature to have doubts: he used to look at me with anxiety, and\nwonder what 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, (so\nbe it!) for what is the life of you all, as day passes after day, but a\nsimple endeavour to serve Him, from whom all blessing comes? Though we\nare separated in place, yet this we have in common, that you are living\na calm and cheerful time, and I am enjoying the thought of you. It is\nyour blessing to have a clear heaven, and peace around, according to the\nblessing pronounced on Benjamin[16]. So it is, my dear B., and so may it\never be.\"\n\n[16] Deut. xxxiii. 12.\n\nHe was in simple good faith. He died in September of the same year. I\nhad expected 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 still\ndark as to what the way of truth was, and what I ought to do in order to\nplease God and fulfil His will.\" I think I wrote to Charles Marriott to\nsay, that at that moment, with the thought of my friend before me, my\nstrong view in favour of Rome remained just what it was. On the other\nhand, my firm belief that grace was to be found within the Anglican\nChurch remained too[17]. I wrote to another friend thus:--\n\n[17] On this subject, vide my Third Lecture on \"Anglican Difficulties,\"\nalso Note E, _Anglican Church_.\n\n\"Sept. 16, 1844. I am full of wrong and miserable feelings, which it is\nuseless to detail, so grudging and sullen, when I should be thankful. Of\ncourse, when one sees so blessed an end, and that, the termination of so\nblameless a life, of one who really fed on our ordinances and got\nstrength from them, and sees the same continued in a whole family, the\nlittle children finding quite a solace of their pain in the Daily\nPrayer, it is impossible not to feel more at ease in our Church, as at\nleast a sort of Zoar, a place of refuge and temporary rest, because of\nthe steepness of the way. Only, may we be kept from unlawful security,\nlest we have Moab and Ammon for our progeny, 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 thought myself\nright then; how was I to be certain that I was right now? How many years\nhad I thought myself sure of what I now rejected? how could I ever again\nhave confidence in myself? As in 1840 I listened to the rising doubt in\nfavour of Rome, now I listened to the waning doubt in favour of the\nAnglican Church. To be certain is to know that one knows; what inward\ntest had I, that I should not change again, after that I had become a\nCatholic? I had still apprehension of this, though I thought a time\nwould come, when it would depart. However, some limit ought to be put to\nthese vague misgivings; I must do my best and then leave it to a higher\nPower to prosper it. So, at the end of 1844, I came to the resolution of\nwriting an Essay on Doctrinal Development; and then, if, at the end of\nit, my convictions in favour of the Roman Church were not weaker, of\ntaking the necessary steps for admission into her fold.\n\nBy this time the state of my mind was generally known, and I made no\ngreat secret of it. I will illustrate it by letters of mine which have\nbeen put into my hands.\n\n\"November 16, 1844. I am going through what must be gone through; and my\ntrust only is that every day of pain is so much taken from the necessary\ndraught which must be exhausted. There is no fear (humanly speaking) of\nmy moving for a long time yet. This has got out without my intending it;\nbut it is all well. As far as I know myself, my one great distress is\nthe perplexity, unsettlement, alarm, scepticism, which I am causing to\nso many; and the loss of kind feeling and good opinion on the part of so\nmany, known and unknown, who have wished well to me. And of these two\nsources of pain it is the former that is the constant, urgent,\nunmitigated one. I had for days a literal ache all about my heart; and\nfrom time to time all the complaints of the Psalmist seemed to belong to\nme.\n\n\"And as far as I know myself, my one paramount reason for contemplating\na change is my deep, unvarying conviction that our Church is in schism,\nand that my salvation depends on my joining the Church of Rome. I may\nuse _argumenta ad hominem_ to this person or that[18]; but I am not\nconscious of resentment, or disgust, at any thing that has happened to\nme. I have no visions whatever of hope, no schemes of action, in any\nother sphere more suited to me. I have no existing sympathies with Roman\nCatholics; I hardly ever, even abroad, was at one of their services; I\nknow none of them, I do not like what I hear of them.\n\n\"And then, how much I am giving up in so many ways! and to me sacrifices\nirreparable, not only from my age, when people hate changing, but from\nmy especial love of old associations and the pleasures of memory. Nor am\nI conscious of any feeling, enthusiastic or heroic, of pleasure in the\nsacrifice; I have nothing to support me here.\n\n\"What keeps me yet is what has kept me long; a fear that I am under a\ndelusion; but the conviction remains firm under all circumstances, in\nall frames of mind. And this most serious feeling is growing on me; viz.\nthat the reasons for which I believe as much as our system teaches,\n_must_ lead me to believe more, and that not to believe more is to fall\nback into scepticism.\n\n\"A thousand thanks for your most kind and consoling letter; though I\nhave not yet spoken of it, it was a great gift.\"\n\n[18] Vide supr. p. 219, &c. Letter of Oct. 14, 1843, compared with that\nof Oct. 25.\n\nShortly after I wrote to the same friend thus: \"My intention is, if\nnothing comes upon me, which I cannot foresee, to remain quietly _in\nstatu quo_ for a considerable time, trusting that my friends will kindly\nremember me and my trial in their prayers. And I should give up my\nfellowship some time before any thing further took place.\"\n\nThere was a lady, now a nun of the Visitation, to whom at this time I\nwrote the following letters:--\n\n1. \"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, I\ndo not think it either suitable or likely. I have very little reason to\ndoubt about the issue of things, but the when and the how are known to\nHim, from whom, I trust, both the course of things and the issue come.\nThe expression of opinion, and the latent and habitual feeling about me,\nwhich is on every side and among all parties, has great force. I insist\nupon it, because I have a great dread of going by my own feelings, lest\nthey should mislead me. By one's sense of duty one must go; but external\nfacts support one in doing so.\"\n\n2. \"January 8, 1845. What am I to say in answer to your letter? I know\nperfectly well, I ought to let you know more of my feelings and state of\nmind than you do know. But how is that possible in a few words? Any\nthing I say must be abrupt; nothing can I say which will not leave a\nbewildering feeling, as needing so much to explain it, and being\nisolated, and (as it were) unlocated, and not having any thing with it\nto show its bearings upon other parts of the subject.\n\n\"At present, my full belief is, in accordance with your letter, that, if\nthere is a move in our Church, very few persons indeed will be partners\nto it. I doubt whether one or two at the most among residents at Oxford.\nAnd I don't know whether I can wish it. The state of the Roman Catholics\nis at present so unsatisfactory. This I am sure of, that nothing but a\nsimple, direct call of duty is a warrant for any one leaving our Church;\nno preference of another Church, no delight in its services, no hope of\ngreater religious advancement in it, no indignation, no disgust, at the\npersons and things, among which we may find ourselves in the Church of\nEngland. The simple question is, Can _I_ (it is personal, not whether\nanother, but can _I_) be saved in the English Church? am _I_ in safety,\nwere I to die to-night? Is it a mortal sin in _me_, not joining another\ncommunion?\n\n\"P.S. I hardly see my way to concur in attendance, though occasional, in\nthe Roman Catholic chapel, unless a man has made up his mind pretty well\nto join it eventually. Invocations are not _required_ in the Church of\nRome; somehow, I do not like using them except under the sanction of the\nChurch, and this makes me unwilling to admit them in members of our\nChurch.\"\n\n3. \"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 become:\nonly it is so difficult to know whether it is a call of _reason_ or of\nconscience. I cannot make out, if I am impelled by what seems _clear_,\nor by a sense of _duty_. You can understand how painful this doubt is;\nso I have waited, hoping for light, and using the words of the Psalmist,\n'Show some token upon me.' But I suppose I have no right to wait for\never for this. Then I am waiting, because friends are most considerately\nbearing me in mind, and asking guidance for me; and, I trust, I should\nattend to any new feelings which came upon me, should that be the effect\nof their kindness. And then this waiting subserves the purpose of\npreparing men's minds. I dread shocking, unsettling people. Any how, I\ncan't avoid giving incalculable pain. So, if I had my will, I should\nlike to wait till the summer of 1846, which would be a full seven years\nfrom the time that my convictions first began to fall on me. But I don't\nthink I shall 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 people\nto know _why_ I am acting, as well as _what_ I am doing; it takes off\nthat vague and distressing surprise, 'What _can_ have made him?'\"\n\n4. \"June 1. What you tell me of yourself makes it plain that it is your\nduty to remain quietly and patiently, till you see more clearly where\nyou are; else you are leaping in the dark.\"\n\nIn the early part of this year, if not before, there was an idea afloat\nthat my retirement from the Anglican Church was owing to my distress\nthat I had been so thrust aside, without any one's taking my part.\nVarious measures were, I believe, talked of in consequence of this\nsurmise. Coincidently with it appeared an exceedingly kind article about\nme in a Quarterly, in its April number. The writer praised me in kind\nand beautiful language far above my deserts. In the course of his\nremarks, he said, speaking of me as Vicar of St. Mary's: \"He had the\nfuture race of clergy hearing him. Did he value and feel tender about,\nand cling to his position?... Not at all.... No sacrifice to him\nperhaps, he did not care about such things.\"\n\nThere was a censure implied, however covertly, in these words; and it is\nalluded to in the following letter, addressed to a very intimate\nfriend:--\n\n\"April 3, 1845.... Accept this apology, my dear Church, and forgive me.\nAs I say so, tears come into my eyes;--that arises from the accident of\nthis time, when I am giving up so much I love. Just now I have been\noverset by James Mozley's article in the Remembrancer; yet really, my\ndear Church, I have never for an instant had even the temptation of\nrepenting my leaving Oxford. The feeling of repentance has not even come\ninto my mind. How could it? How could I remain at St. Mary's a\nhypocrite? how could I be answerable for souls, (and life so uncertain,)\nwith the convictions, or at least persuasions, which I had upon me? It\nis indeed 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 my\nheart and mind are tired out, just as the limbs might be from a load on\none's back. That sort of dull aching pain is mine; but my responsibility\nreally is nothing to what it would be, to be answerable for souls, for\nconfiding loving souls, in the English Church, with my convictions. My\nlove to Marriott, and save me the pain of sending him a line.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nI am now close upon the date of my reception into the Catholic Church;\nat the beginning of the year a letter had been addressed to me by a very\ndear friend, now no more, Charles Marriott. I quote some sentences from\nit, for the love which I bear him and the value that I set on his good\nword.\n\n\"January 15, 1845. You know me well enough to be aware, that I never see\nthrough any thing at first. Your letter to Badeley 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 feel at\nonce, and doubt not that I shall ever feel: that your whole conduct\ntowards the Church of England and towards us, who have striven and are\nstill striving to seek after God for ourselves, and to revive true\nreligion among others, under her authority and guidance, has been\ngenerous and considerate, and, were that word appropriate, dutiful, to a\ndegree that I could scarcely have conceived possible, more unsparing of\nself than I should have thought nature could sustain. I have felt with\npain every link that you have severed, and I have asked no questions,\nbecause I felt that you ought to measure the disclosure of your thoughts\naccording to the occasion, and the capacity of those to whom you spoke.\nI write in haste, in the midst of engagements engrossing in themselves,\nbut partly made tasteless, partly embittered by what I have heard; but I\nam willing to trust even you, whom I love best on earth, in God's Hand,\nin the earnest prayer that you may be so employed as is best for the\nHoly Catholic Church.\"\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\nI had begun my Essay on the Development of Doctrine in the beginning of\n1845, and I was hard at it all through the year till October. As I\nadvanced, my difficulties so cleared away that I ceased to speak of \"the\nRoman Catholics,\" and boldly called them Catholics. Before I got to the\nend, I resolved to be received, and the book remains in the state in\nwhich it was then, unfinished.\n\nOne of my friends at Littlemore had been received into the Church on\nMichaelmas Day, at the Passionist House at Aston, near Stone, by Father\nDominic, the Superior. At the beginning of October the latter was\npassing through London to Belgium; and, as I was in some perplexity what\nsteps to take for being received myself, I assented to the proposition\nmade to me that the good priest should take Littlemore in his way, with\na view to his doing for me the same charitable service as he had done to\nmy friend.\n\nOn October the 8th I wrote to a number of friends the following\nletter:--\n\n\"Littlemore, October 8th, 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, then\nof England. After thirty years' (almost) waiting, he was without his own\nact sent here. But he has had little to do with conversions. I saw him\nhere for a few minutes on St. John Baptist's day last year.\n\n\"He is a simple, holy man; and withal gifted with remarkable powers. He\ndoes not know of my intention; but I mean to ask of him admission into\nthe One Fold of Christ....\n\n\"I have so many letters to write, that this must do for all who choose\nto ask about me. With my best love to dear Charles Marriott, who is over\nyour head, &c., &c.\n\n\"P.S. This will not go till all is over. Of course it requires no\nanswer.\"\n\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 sent me by Cardinal Acton:--\n\n\"Nov. 25, 1845. I hope you will have anticipated, before I express it,\nthe great gratification which I received from your Eminence's letter.\nThat gratification, however, was tempered by the apprehension, that kind\nand anxious well-wishers at a distance attach more importance to my step\nthan really belongs to it. To me indeed personally it is of course an\ninestimable gain; but persons and things look great at a distance, which\nare not so when seen close; and, did your Eminence know me, you would\nsee that I was one, about whom there has been far more talk for good and\nbad than he deserves, and about whose movements far more expectation has\nbeen raised than the event will justify.\n\n\"As I never, I do trust, aimed at any thing else than obedience to my\nown sense of right, and have been magnified into the leader of a party\nwithout my wishing it or acting as such, so now, much as I may wish to\nthe contrary, and earnestly as I may labour (as is my duty) to minister\nin a humble way to the Catholic Church, yet my powers will, I fear,\ndisappoint the expectations of both my own friends, and of those who\npray for the peace of Jerusalem.\n\n\"If I might ask of your Eminence a favour, it is that you would kindly\nmoderate those anticipations. Would it were in my power to do, what I do\nnot aspire to do! At present certainly I cannot look forward to the\nfuture, and, though it would be a good work if I could persuade others\nto do as I have done, yet it seems as if I had quite enough to do in\nthinking of myself.\"\n\nSoon, Dr. Wiseman, in whose Vicariate Oxford lay, called me to Oscott;\nand I went there with others; afterwards he sent me to Rome, and finally\nplaced me in Birmingham.\n\nI wrote to a friend:--\n\n\"January 20, 1846. You may think how lonely I am. 'Obliviscere populum\ntuum et domum patris tui,' has been in my ears for the last twelve\nhours. I realize more that we are leaving Littlemore, and it is like\ngoing on the open sea.\"\n\nI left Oxford for good on Monday, February 23, 1846. On the Saturday and\nSunday before, I was in my house at Littlemore simply by myself, as I\nhad been for the first day or two when I had originally taken possession\nof it. I slept on Sunday night at my dear friend's, Mr. Johnson's, at\nthe Observatory. Various friends came to see the last of me; Mr.\nCopeland, Mr. Church, Mr. Buckle, Mr. Pattison, and Mr. Lewis. Dr. Pusey\ntoo came up to take leave of me; and I called on Dr. Ogle, one of my\nvery oldest friends, for he was my private Tutor, when I was an\nUndergraduate. In him I took leave of my first College, Trinity, which\nwas so dear to me, and which held on its foundation so many who had been\nkind to me both when I was a boy, and all through my Oxford life.\nTrinity had never been unkind to me. There used to be much snap-dragon\ngrowing on the walls opposite my freshman's rooms there, and I had for\nyears taken it as the emblem of my own perpetual residence even unto\ndeath 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[19].\n\n[19] At length I revisited Oxford on February 26th, 1878, after an\nabsence of just 32 years. Vide Additional Note at the end of the volume.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nPOSITION OF MY MIND SINCE 1845.\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 thinking\non theological subjects; but that I have had no variations to record,\nand have had no anxiety of heart whatever. I have been in perfect peace\nand contentment; I never have had one doubt. I was not conscious to\nmyself, on my conversion, of any change, intellectual or moral, wrought\nin my mind. I was not conscious of firmer faith in the fundamental\ntruths of Revelation, or of more self-command; I had not more fervour;\nbut it was like coming into port after a rough sea; and my happiness on\nthat score remains to this day without interruption.\n\nNor had I any trouble about receiving those additional articles, which\nare not found in the Anglican Creed. Some of them I believed already,\nbut not any one of them was a trial to me. I made a profession of them\nupon my reception with the greatest ease, and I have the same ease in\nbelieving them now. I am far of course from denying that every article\nof the Christian Creed, whether as held by Catholics or by Protestants,\nis beset with intellectual difficulties; and it is simple fact, that,\nfor myself, I cannot answer those difficulties. Many persons are very\nsensitive of the difficulties of Religion; I am as sensitive of them as\nany one; but I have never been able to see a connexion between\napprehending those difficulties, however keenly, and multiplying them to\nany extent, and on the other hand doubting the doctrines to which they\nare attached. Ten thousand difficulties do not make one doubt, as I\nunderstand the subject; difficulty and doubt are incommensurate. There\nof course may be difficulties in the evidence; but I am speaking of\ndifficulties intrinsic to the doctrines themselves, or to their\nrelations with each other. A man may be annoyed that he cannot work out\na mathematical problem, of which the answer is or is not given to him,\nwithout doubting that it admits of an answer, or that a certain\nparticular answer is the true one. Of all points of faith, the being of\na God is, to my own apprehension, encompassed with most difficulty, and\nyet 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 no\ndifficulty 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 a\nbeliever in it of talents as eminent as Sir Thomas More, before he could\nbring himself to conceive that the Catholics of an enlightened age could\nresist \"the overwhelming force of the argument against it.\" \"Sir Thomas\nMore,\" he says, \"is one of the choice specimens of wisdom and virtue;\nand the doctrine of transubstantiation is a kind of proof charge. A\nfaith which stands that test, will stand any test.\" But for myself, I\ncannot indeed prove it, I cannot tell _how_ it is; but I say, \"Why\nshould it not be? What's to hinder it? What do I know of substance or\nmatter? just as much as the greatest philosophers, and that is nothing\nat all;\"--so much is this the case, that there is a rising school of\nphilosophy now, which considers phenomena to constitute the whole of our\nknowledge in physics. The Catholic doctrine leaves phenomena alone. It\ndoes not say that the phenomena go; on the contrary, it says that they\nremain; nor does it say that the same phenomena are in several places at\nonce. It deals with what no one on earth knows any thing about, the\nmaterial substances themselves. And, in like manner, of that majestic\nArticle of the Anglican as well as of the Catholic Creed,--the doctrine\nof the Trinity in Unity. What do I know of the Essence of the Divine\nBeing? I know that my abstract idea of three is simply incompatible with\nmy idea 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 can\nequally be predicated of the Incommunicable God.\n\nBut I am going to take upon myself the responsibility of more than the\nmere Creed of the Church; as the parties accusing me are determined I\nshall do. They say, that now, in that I am a Catholic, though I may not\nhave offences of my own against honesty to answer for, yet, at least, I\nam answerable for the offences of others, of my co-religionists, of my\nbrother priests, of the Church herself. I am quite willing to accept the\nresponsibility; and, as I have been able, as I trust, by means of a few\nwords, to dissipate, in the minds of all those who do not begin with\ndisbelieving me, the suspicion with which so many Protestants start, in\nforming their judgment of Catholics, viz. that our Creed is actually set\nup in inevitable superstition and hypocrisy, as the original sin of\nCatholicism; so now I will proceed, as before, identifying myself with\nthe Church and vindicating it,--not of course denying the enormous mass\nof sin and error which exists of necessity in that world-wide multiform\nCommunion,--but going to the proof of this one point, that its system is\nin no sense dishonest, and that therefore the upholders and teachers of\nthat system, as such, have a claim to be acquitted in their own persons\nof that odious imputation.\n\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 to\nput the grounds of that certainty into logical shape I find a difficulty\nin doing so in mood and figure to my satisfaction,) I look out of myself\ninto the world of men, and there I see a sight which fills me with\nunspeakable distress. The world seems simply to give the lie to that\ngreat truth, of which my whole being is so full; and the effect upon me\nis, in consequence, as a matter of necessity, as confusing as if it\ndenied that I am in existence myself. If I looked into a mirror, and did\nnot see my face, I should have the sort of feeling which actually comes\nupon me, when I look into this living busy world, and see no reflexion\nof its Creator. This is, to me, one of those great difficulties of this\nabsolute primary truth, to which I referred just now. Were it not for\nthis voice, speaking so clearly in my conscience and my heart, I should\nbe an atheist, or a pantheist, or a polytheist when I looked into the\nworld. I am speaking for myself only; and I am far from denying the real\nforce of the arguments in proof of a God, drawn from the general facts\nof human society and the course of history, but these do not warm me or\nenlighten me; they do not take away the winter of my desolation, or make\nthe buds unfold and the leaves grow within me, and my moral being\nrejoice. The sight of the world is nothing else than the prophet's\nscroll, full of \"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, governments,\nforms of worship; their enterprises, their aimless courses, their random\nachievements and acquirements, the impotent conclusion of long-standing\nfacts, the tokens so faint and broken of a superintending design, the\nblind evolution of what turn out to be great powers or truths, the\nprogress of things, as if from unreasoning elements, not towards final\ncauses, the greatness and littleness of man, his far-reaching aims, his\nshort duration, the curtain hung over his futurity, the disappointments\nof life, the defeat of good, the success of evil, physical pain, mental\nanguish, the prevalence and intensity of sin, the pervading idolatries,\nthe corruptions, the dreary hopeless irreligion, that condition of the\nwhole race, so fearfully yet exactly described in the Apostle's words,\n\"having no hope and without God in the world,\"--all this is a vision to\ndizzy and appal; and inflicts upon the mind the sense of a profound\nmystery, 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 society\nof men is in a true sense discarded from His presence. Did I see a boy\nof good make and mind, with the tokens on him of a refined nature, cast\nupon the world without provision, unable to say whence he came, his\nbirth-place or his family connexions, I should conclude that there was\nsome mystery connected with his history, and that he was one, of whom,\nfrom one cause or other, his parents were ashamed. Thus only should I be\nable to account for the contrast between the promise and the condition\nof his being. And so I argue about the world;--_if_ there be a God,\n_since_ there is a God, the human race is implicated in some terrible\naboriginal calamity. It is out of joint with the purposes of its\nCreator. This is a fact, a fact as true as the fact of its existence;\nand thus the doctrine of what is theologically called original sin\nbecomes to me almost as certain as that the world exists, and as the\nexistence of God.\n\nAnd now, supposing it were the blessed and loving will of the Creator to\ninterfere in this anarchical condition of things, what are we to suppose\nwould be the methods which might be necessarily or naturally involved in\nHis purpose of mercy? Since the world is in so abnormal a state, surely\nit would be no surprise to me, if the interposition were of necessity\nequally extraordinary--or what is called miraculous. But that subject\ndoes not directly come into the scope of my present remarks. Miracles as\nevidence, involve a process of reason, or an argument; and of course I\nam thinking of some mode of interference 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 of denying,\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 am\nnot speaking here 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 the\nsoul, and in a future retribution; but I am considering the faculty of\nreason actually and historically; and in this point of view, I do not\nthink I am wrong in saying that its tendency is towards a simple\nunbelief in matters of religion. No truth, however sacred, can stand\nagainst it, in the long run; and hence it is that in the pagan world,\nwhen our 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 this\nday! and not only Europe, but every government and every civilization\nthrough the world, which is under the influence of the European mind!\nEspecially, for it most concerns us, how sorrowful, in the view of\nreligion, even taken in its most elementary, most attenuated form, is\nthe spectacle presented to us by the educated intellect of England,\nFrance, and Germany! Lovers of their country and of their race,\nreligious men, external to the Catholic Church, have attempted various\nexpedients to arrest fierce wilful human nature in its onward course,\nand to bring it into subjection. The necessity of some form of religion\nfor the interests of humanity, has been generally acknowledged: but\nwhere was the concrete representative of things invisible, which would\nhave the force and the toughness necessary to be a breakwater against\nthe deluge? Three centuries ago the establishment of religion, material,\nlegal, and social, was generally adopted as the best expedient for the\npurpose, in those countries which separated from the Catholic Church;\nand for a long time it was successful; but now the crevices of those\nestablishments are admitting the enemy. Thirty years ago, education was\nrelied upon: ten years ago there was a hope that wars would cease for\never, under the influence of commercial enterprise and the reign of the\nuseful and fine arts; but will any one venture to say that there is any\nthing any where on this earth, which will afford a fulcrum for us,\nwhereby to keep the earth from moving onwards?\n\nThe judgment, which experience passes whether on establishments or on\neducation, as a means of maintaining religious truth in this anarchical\nworld, must be extended even to Scripture, though Scripture be divine.\nExperience proves surely that the Bible does not answer a purpose for\nwhich it was never intended. It may be accidentally the means of the\nconversion of individuals; but a book, after all, cannot make a stand\nagainst the wild living intellect of man, and in this day it begins to\ntestify, as regards its own structure and contents, to the power of that\nuniversal solvent, which is so successfully acting upon religious\nestablishments.\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 knowledge\nof Himself, so definite and distinct as to be proof against the energy\nof human scepticism, in such a case,--I am far from saying that there\nwas no other way,--but there is nothing to surprise the mind, if He\nshould think fit to introduce a power into the world, invested with the\nprerogative of infallibility in religious matters. Such a provision\nwould be a direct, immediate, active, and prompt means of withstanding\nthe difficulty; it would be an instrument suited to the need; and, when\nI find that this is the very claim of the Catholic Church, not only do I\nfeel no difficulty in admitting the idea, but there is a fitness in it,\nwhich recommends it to my mind. And thus I am brought to speak of the\nChurch's infallibility, as a provision, adapted by the mercy of the\nCreator, to preserve religion in the world, and to restrain that freedom\nof thought, which of course in itself is one of the greatest of our\nnatural gifts, and to rescue it from its own suicidal excesses. And let\nit be observed that, neither here nor in what follows, shall I have\noccasion to speak directly of Revelation in its subject-matter, but in\nreference to the sanction which it gives to truths which may be known\nindependently of it,--as it bears upon the defence of natural religion.\nI say, that a power, possessed of infallibility in religious teaching,\nis happily adapted to be a working instrument, in the course of human\naffairs, for smiting hard and throwing back the immense energy of the\naggressive, capricious, untrustworthy intellect:--and in saying this, as\nin the other things that I have to say, it must still be recollected\nthat I am all along bearing in mind my main purpose, which is a defence\nof 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 doctrines\nwhich I cannot possibly believe in my heart, but that I also believe in\nthe existence of a power on earth, which at its own will imposes upon\nmen any new set of _credenda_, when it pleases, by a claim to\ninfallibility; in consequence, that my own thoughts are not my own\nproperty; that I cannot tell that to-morrow I may not have to give up\nwhat I hold to-day, and that the necessary effect of such a condition of\nmind must be a degrading bondage, or a bitter inward rebellion relieving\nitself in secret infidelity, or the necessity of ignoring the whole\nsubject of religion in a sort of disgust, and of mechanically saying\nevery thing that the Church says, and leaving to others the defence of\nit. As then I have above spoken of the relation of my mind towards the\nCatholic Creed, so now I shall speak of the attitude which it takes up\nin 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 rebelled\nagainst his Maker. It was this that caused the divine interposition: and\nto proclaim it must be the first act of the divinely-accredited\nmessenger. The Church must denounce rebellion as of all possible evils\nthe greatest. She must have no terms with it; if she would be true to\nher Master, she must ban and anathematize it. This is the meaning of a\nstatement of mine which has furnished matter for one of those special\naccusations to which I am at present replying: I have, however, no fault\nat all to confess in regard to it; I have nothing to withdraw, and in\nconsequence I here deliberately repeat it. I said, \"The Catholic Church\nholds it better for the sun and moon to drop from heaven, for the earth\nto fail, and for all the many millions on it to die of starvation in\nextremest agony, as far as temporal affliction goes, than that one soul,\nI will not say, should be lost, but should commit one single venial sin,\nshould tell one wilful untruth, or should steal one poor farthing\nwithout excuse.\" I think the principle here enunciated to be the mere\npreamble in the formal credentials of the Catholic Church, as an Act of\nParliament might begin with a \"_Whereas_.\" It is because of the\nintensity of the evil which has possession of mankind, that a suitable\nantagonist has been provided against it; and the initial act of that\ndivinely-commissioned power is of course to deliver her challenge and to\ndefy the enemy. Such a preamble then gives a meaning to her position in\nthe world, and an interpretation to her whole course of teaching and\naction.\n\nIn like manner she has ever put forth, with most energetic distinctness,\nthose other great elementary truths, which either are an explanation of\nher mission or give a character to her work. She does not teach that\nhuman nature is irreclaimable, else wherefore should she be sent? not,\nthat it is to be shattered and reversed, but to be extricated, purified,\nand restored; not, that it is a mere mass of hopeless evil, but that it\nhas the promise upon it of great things, and even now, in its present\nstate of disorder and excess, has a virtue and a praise proper to\nitself. But in the next place she knows and she preaches that such a\nrestoration, as she aims at effecting in it, must be brought about, not\nsimply through certain outward provisions of preaching and teaching,\neven though they be her own, but from an inward spiritual power or grace\nimparted directly from above, and of which she is the channel. She has\nit in charge to rescue human nature from its misery, but not simply by\nrestoring it on its own level, but by lifting it up to a higher level\nthan its own. She recognizes 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 into\nher hands; and therefore from the nature of the gift, as well as from\nthe reasonableness of the case, she goes on, as a further point, to\ninsist, that all true conversion must begin with the first springs of\nthought, and to teach that each individual man must be in his own person\none whole and perfect temple of God, while he is also one of the living\nstones which build up a visible religious community. And thus the\ndistinctions between nature and grace, and between outward and inward\nreligion, become two further articles in what I have called the preamble\nof 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,\" is\nthe simple, direct form of words which she uses after her Divine Master:\n\"your whole nature must be re-born; your passions, and your affections,\nand your aims, and your conscience, and your will, must all be bathed in\na new element, and reconsecrated to your Maker,--and, the last not the\nleast, your intellect.\" It was for repeating these points of her\nteaching in my own way, that certain passages of one of my Volumes have\nbeen brought into the general accusation which has been made against my\nreligious opinions. The writer has said that I was demented if I\nbelieved, and unprincipled if I did not believe, in my own statement,\nthat a lazy, ragged, filthy, story-telling beggar-woman, if chaste,\nsober, cheerful, and religious, had a prospect of heaven, such as was\nabsolutely closed to an accomplished statesman, or lawyer, or noble, be\nhe ever so just, upright, generous, honourable, and conscientious,\nunless he had also some portion of the divine Christian graces;--yet I\nshould have thought myself defended from criticism by the words which\nour Lord used to the chief priests, \"The publicans and harlots go into\nthe kingdom of God before you.\" And I was subjected again to the same\nalternative of imputations, for having ventured to say that consent to\nan unchaste wish was indefinitely more heinous than any lie viewed apart\nfrom its causes, its motives, and its consequences: though a lie, viewed\nunder the limitation of these conditions, is a random utterance, an\nalmost outward act, not directly from the heart, however disgraceful and\ndespicable it may be, however prejudicial to the social contract,\nhowever deserving of public reprobation; whereas we have the express\nwords of our Lord to the doctrine that \"whoso looketh on a woman to lust\nafter her, hath committed adultery with her already in his heart.\" On\nthe strength of these texts, I have surely as much right to believe in\nthese doctrines which have caused so much surprise, as to believe in\noriginal sin, or that there is a supernatural revelation, or that a\nDivine Person suffered, or that punishment is eternal.\n\nPassing now from what I have called the preamble of that grant of power,\nwhich is made to the Church, to that power itself, Infallibility, I\npremise two brief remarks:--1. on the one hand, I am not here\ndetermining any thing about the essential seat of that power, because\nthat is a question doctrinal, not historical and practical; 2. nor, on\nthe other hand, am I extending the direct subject-matter, over which\nthat power of Infallibility 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 but in\nthe legitimate manner, for otherwise of course it is but quiescent, to\nknow for certain the very meaning of every portion of that Divine\nMessage in detail, which was committed by our Lord to His Apostles. It\nclaims to know its own limits, and to decide what it can determine\nabsolutely and what it cannot. It claims, moreover, to have a hold upon\nstatements not directly religious, so far as this,--to determine whether\nthey indirectly relate to religion, and, according to its own definitive\njudgment, to pronounce whether or not, in a particular case, they are\nsimply consistent with revealed truth. It claims to decide\nmagisterially, whether as within its own province or not, that such and\nsuch statements are or are not prejudicial to the _Depositum_ of faith,\nin their spirit or in their consequences, and to allow them, or condemn\nand forbid them, accordingly. It claims to impose silence at will on any\nmatters, or controversies, of doctrine, which on its own _ipse dixit_,\nit pronounces to be dangerous, or inexpedient, or inopportune. It claims\nthat, whatever may be the judgment of Catholics upon such acts, these\nacts should be received by them with those outward marks of reverence,\nsubmission, and loyalty, which Englishmen, for instance, pay to the\npresence of their sovereign, without expressing any criticism on them on\nthe ground that in their matter they are inexpedient, or in their manner\nviolent or harsh. And lastly, it claims to have the right of inflicting\nspiritual punishment, of cutting off from the ordinary channels of the\ndivine life, and of simply excommunicating, those who refuse to submit\nthemselves to its formal declarations. Such is the infallibility lodged\nin the Catholic Church, viewed in the concrete, as clothed and\nsurrounded by the appendages of its high sovereignty: it is, to repeat\nwhat I said above, a supereminent prodigious power sent upon earth to\nencounter and master a giant evil.\n\nAnd now, having thus described it, I profess my own absolute submission\nto its claim. I believe the whole revealed dogma as taught by the\nApostles, as committed by the Apostles to the Church; and as declared by\nthe Church to me. I receive it, as it is infallibly interpreted by the\nauthority to whom it is thus committed, and (implicitly) as it shall be,\nin like manner, further interpreted by that same authority till the end\nof time. I submit, moreover, to the universally received traditions of\nthe Church, in which lies the matter of those new dogmatic definitions\nwhich are from time to time made, and which in all times are the\nclothing and the illustration of the Catholic dogma as already defined.\nAnd I submit myself to those other decisions of the Holy See,\ntheological or not, through the organs which it has itself appointed,\nwhich, waiving the question of their infallibility, on the lowest ground\ncome to me with a claim to be accepted and obeyed. Also, I consider\nthat, gradually and in the course of ages, Catholic inquiry has taken\ncertain definite shapes, and has thrown itself into the form of a\nscience, with a method and a phraseology of its own, under the\nintellectual handling of great minds, such as St. Athanasius, St.\nAugustine, and St. Thomas; and I feel no temptation at all to break in\npieces the great legacy of thought thus committed to us for these latter\ndays.\n\nAll this being considered as the profession which I make _ex animo_, as\nfor myself, so also on the part of the Catholic body, as far as I know\nit, it 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 to\nbe the intention of that high Providence who has provided a great remedy\nfor a great evil,--far from borne out by the history of the conflict\nbetween Infallibility and Reason in the past, and the prospect of it in\nthe future. The energy of the human intellect \"does from opposition\ngrow;\" it thrives and is joyous, with a tough elastic strength, under\nthe terrible blows of the divinely-fashioned weapon, and is never so\nmuch itself as when it has lately been overthrown. It is the custom with\nProtestant writers to consider that, whereas there are two great\nprinciples in action in the history of religion, Authority and Private\nJudgment, they have all the Private Judgment to themselves, and we have\nthe full inheritance and the superincumbent oppression of Authority. But\nthis is not so; it is the vast Catholic body itself, and it only, which\naffords an arena for both combatants in that awful, never-dying duel. It\nis necessary for the very life of religion, viewed in its large\noperations and its history, that the warfare should be incessantly\ncarried on. Every exercise of Infallibility is brought out into act by\nan intense and varied operation of the Reason, both as its ally and as\nits opponent, and provokes again, when it has done its work, a re-action\nof Reason against it; and, as in a civil polity the State exists and\nendures by means of the rivalry and collision, the encroachments and\ndefeats of its constituent parts, so in like manner Catholic Christendom\nis no simple exhibition of religious absolutism, but presents a\ncontinuous picture of Authority and Private Judgment alternately\nadvancing and retreating as the ebb and flow of the tide;--it is a vast\nassemblage of human beings with wilful intellects and wild passions,\nbrought together into one by the beauty and the Majesty of a Superhuman\nPower,--into what may be called a large reformatory or training-school,\nnot as if into a hospital or into a prison, not in order to be sent to\nbed, not to be buried alive, but (if I may change my metaphor) brought\ntogether as if into some moral factory, for the melting, refining, and\nmoulding, by an incessant, noisy process, of the raw material of human\nnature, so excellent, 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 of\nthe Infallibility of the Church. It is a supply for a need, and it does\nnot go beyond that need. Its object is, and its effect also, not to\nenfeeble the freedom or vigour of human thought in religious\nspeculation, but to resist and control its extravagance. What have been\nits great works? All of them in the distinct province of theology:--to\nput down Arianism, Eutychianism, Pelagianism, Manich\u00e6ism, Lutheranism,\nJansenism. Such is the broad result of its action in the past;--and now\nas to the securities which are given us that so it ever will act in time\nto come.\n\nFirst, Infallibility cannot act outside of a definite circle of thought,\nand it must in all its decisions, or _definitions_, as they are called,\nprofess to be keeping within it. The great truths of the moral law, of\nnatural religion, and of Apostolical faith, are both its boundary and\nits foundation. It must not go beyond them, and it must ever appeal to\nthem. Both its subject-matter, and its articles in that subject-matter,\nare fixed. And it must ever profess to be guided by Scripture and by\ntradition. It must refer to the particular Apostolic truth which it is\nenforcing, or (what is called) _defining_. Nothing, then, can be\npresented to me, in time to come, as part of the faith, but what I ought\nalready to have received, and hitherto have been kept from receiving,\n(if so,) merely because it has not been brought home to me. Nothing can\nbe imposed upon me different in kind from what I hold already,--much\nless contrary to it. The new truth which is promulgated, if it is to be\ncalled new, must be at least homogeneous, cognate, implicit, viewed\nrelatively to the old truth. It must be what I may even have guessed, or\nwished, to be included in the Apostolic revelation; and at least it will\nbe of such a character, that my thoughts readily concur in it or\ncoalesce with it, as soon as I hear it. Perhaps I and others actually\nhave always believed it, and the only question which is now decided in\nmy behalf, is, that I have henceforth the satisfaction of having to\nbelieve, that I have only been holding all along what the Apostles held\nbefore me.\n\nLet me take the doctrine which Protestants consider our greatest\ndifficulty, that of the Immaculate Conception. Here I entreat the reader\nto recollect my main drift, which is this. I have no difficulty in\nreceiving the doctrine; and that, because it so intimately harmonizes\nwith that circle of recognized dogmatic truths, into which it has been\nrecently received;--but if _I_ have no difficulty, why may not another\nhave no difficulty also? why may not a hundred? a thousand? Now I am\nsure that Catholics in general have not any intellectual difficulty at\nall on the subject of the Immaculate Conception; and that there is no\nreason why they should. Priests have no difficulty. You tell me that\nthey _ought_ to have a difficulty;--but they have not. Be large-minded\nenough to believe, that men may reason and feel very differently from\nyourselves; how is it that men, when left to themselves, fall into such\nvarious forms of religion, except that there are various types of mind\namong them, very distinct from each other? From my testimony then about\nmyself, if you believe it, judge of others also who are Catholics: we do\nnot find the difficulties which you do in the doctrines which we hold;\nwe have no intellectual difficulty in that doctrine in particular, which\nyou call a novelty of this day. We priests need not be hypocrites,\nthough we be called upon to believe in the Immaculate Conception. To\nthat large class of minds, who believe in Christianity after our\nmanner,--in the particular temper, spirit, and light, (whatever word is\nused,) in which Catholics believe it,--there is no burden at all in\nholding that the Blessed Virgin was conceived without original sin;\nindeed, it is a simple fact to say, that Catholics have not come to\nbelieve it because it is defined, but that it was defined because they\nbelieved it.\n\nSo far from the definition in 1854 being a tyrannical infliction on the\nCatholic world, it was received every where on its promulgation with the\ngreatest enthusiasm. It was in consequence of the unanimous petition,\npresented from all parts of the Church to the Holy See, in behalf of an\n_ex cathedr\u00e2_ declaration that the doctrine was Apostolic, that it was\ndeclared so to be. I never heard of one Catholic having difficulties in\nreceiving the doctrine, whose faith on other grounds was not already\nsuspicious. Of course there were grave and good men, who were made\nanxious by the doubt whether it could be formally proved to be\nApostolical either by Scripture or tradition, and who accordingly,\nthough believing it themselves, did not see how it could be defined by\nauthority and imposed upon all Catholics as a matter of faith; but this\nis another matter. The point in question is, whether the doctrine is a\nburden. I believe it to be none. So far from it being so, I sincerely\nthink that St. Bernard and St. Thomas, who scrupled at it in their day,\nhad they 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 other\ndoctrines; and those who defended it in that age had not that precision\nin their view of it, which has been attained by means of the long\ndisputes of the centuries which followed. And in this want of precision\nlay the difference of opinion, and the controversy.\n\nNow the instance which I have been taking suggests another remark; the\nnumber of those (so called) new doctrines will not oppress us, if it\ntakes eight centuries to promulgate even one of them. Such is about the\nlength of time through which the preparation has been carried on for the\ndefinition of the Immaculate Conception. This of course is an\nextraordinary case; but it is difficult to say what is ordinary,\nconsidering how few are the formal occasions on which the voice of\nInfallibility has been solemnly lifted up. It is to the Pope in\nEcumenical Council that we look, as to the normal seat of Infallibility:\nnow there have been only eighteen such Councils since Christianity\nwas,--an average of one to a century,--and of these Councils some passed\nno doctrinal decree at all, others were employed on only one, and many\nof them were concerned with only elementary points of the Creed. The\nCouncil of Trent embraced a large field of doctrine certainly; but I\nshould apply to its Canons a remark contained in that University Sermon\nof mine, which has been so ignorantly criticized in the Pamphlet which\nhas been the occasion of this Volume;--I there have said that the\nvarious verses of the Athanasian Creed are only repetitions in various\nshapes of one and the same idea; and in like manner, the Tridentine\nDecrees are not isolated from each other, but are occupied in bringing\nout in detail, by a number of separate declarations, as if into bodily\nform, a few necessary truths. I should make the same remark on the\nvarious theological censures, promulgated by Popes, which the Church has\nreceived, and on their dogmatic decisions generally. I own that at first\nsight those decisions seem from their number to be a greater burden on\nthe faith of individuals than are the Canons of Councils; still I do not\nbelieve that in matter of fact 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 accept\nany thing that is placed before him, or is willing, like a lawyer, to\nspeak according to his brief, but that in such condemnations the Holy\nSee is engaged, for the most part, in repudiating one or two great lines\nof error, such as Lutheranism or Jansenism, principally ethical not\ndoctrinal, which are divergent from the Catholic mind, and that it is\nbut expressing what any good Catholic, of fair abilities, though\nunlearned, would say himself, from common and sound sense, if the matter\ncould be put before him.\n\nNow I will go on in fairness to say what I think _is_ the great trial to\nthe Reason, when confronted with that august prerogative of the Catholic\nChurch, of which I have been speaking. I enlarged just now upon the\nconcrete shape and circumstances, under which pure infallible authority\npresents itself to the Catholic. That authority has the prerogative of\nan indirect jurisdiction on subject-matters which lie beyond its own\nproper limits, and it most reasonably has such a jurisdiction. It could\nnot act in its own province, unless it had a right to act out of it. It\ncould not properly defend religious truth, without claiming for that\ntruth what may be called its _pom[oe]ria_; or, to take another\nillustration, without acting as we act, as a nation, in claiming as our\nown, not only the land on which we live, but what are called British\nwaters. The Catholic Church claims, not only to judge infallibly on\nreligious questions, but to animadvert on opinions in secular matters\nwhich bear upon religion, on matters of philosophy, of science, of\nliterature, of history, and it demands our submission to her claim. It\nclaims to censure books, to silence authors, and to forbid discussions.\nIn this province, taken as a whole, it does not so much speak\ndoctrinally, as enforce measures of discipline. It must of course be\nobeyed without a word, and perhaps in process of time it will tacitly\nrecede from its own injunctions. In such cases the question of faith\ndoes not come in at all; for what is matter of faith is true for all\ntimes, and never can be unsaid. Nor does it at all follow, because there\nis a gift of infallibility in the Catholic Church, that therefore the\nparties who are in possession of it are in all their proceedings\ninfallible. \"O, it is excellent,\" says the poet, \"to have a giant's\nstrength, but tyrannous, to use it like a giant.\" I think history\nsupplies us with instances in the Church, where legitimate power has\nbeen harshly used. To make such admission is no more than saying that\nthe divine treasure, in the words of the Apostle, is \"in earthen\nvessels;\" nor does it follow that the substance of the acts of the\nruling power is not right and expedient, because its manner may have\nbeen faulty. Such high authorities act by means of instruments; we know\nhow such instruments claim for themselves the name of their principals,\nwho thus get the credit of faults which really are not theirs. But\ngranting all this to an extent greater than can with any show of reason\nbe imputed to the ruling power in the Church, what difficulty is there\nin the fact of this want of prudence or moderation more than can be\nurged, with far greater justice, against Protestant communities and\ninstitutions? What is there in it to make us hypocrites, if it has not\nthat effect upon Protestants? We are called upon, not to profess any\nthing, but to submit and be silent, as Protestant Churchmen have before\nnow obeyed the royal command to abstain from certain theological\nquestions. Such injunctions as I have been contemplating are laid merely\nupon our actions, not upon our thoughts. How, for instance, does it tend\nto make a man a hypocrite, to be forbidden to publish a libel? his\nthoughts are as free as before: authoritative prohibitions may tease and\nirritate, but 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, in spite\nof all that the most hostile critic may urge about the encroachments or\nseverities of high ecclesiastics, in times past, in the use of their\npower, I think that the event has shown after all, that they were mainly\nin the right, and that those whom they were hard upon were mainly in the\nwrong. I love, for instance, the name of Origen: I will not listen to\nthe notion that so great a soul was lost; but I am quite sure that, in\nthe contest between his doctrine and followers and the ecclesiastical\npower, his opponents were right, and he was wrong. Yet who can speak\nwith patience of his enemy and the enemy of St. John Chrysostom, that\nTheophilus, bishop of Alexandria? who can admire or revere Pope\nVigilius? And here another consideration presents itself to my thoughts.\nIn reading ecclesiastical 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 prohibition\nof authority at an unseasonable time. There is a time for every thing,\nand many a man desires a reformation of an abuse, or the fuller\ndevelopment of a doctrine, or the adoption of a particular policy, but\nforgets to ask himself whether the right time for it is come: and,\nknowing that there is no one who will be doing any thing towards its\naccomplishment in his own lifetime unless he does it himself, he will\nnot listen to the voice of authority, and he spoils a good work in his\nown century, in order that another man, as yet unborn, may not have the\nopportunity of bringing it happily to perfection in the next. He may\nseem to the world to be nothing else than a bold champion for the truth\nand a martyr to free opinion, when he is just one of those persons whom\nthe competent authority ought to silence; and, though the case may not\nfall within that subject-matter in which that authority is infallible,\nor the formal conditions of the exercise of that gift may be wanting, it\nis clearly the duty of authority to act vigorously in the case. Yet its\nact will go down to posterity as an instance of a tyrannical\ninterference with private judgment, and of the silencing of a reformer,\nand of a base love of corruption or error; and it will show still less\nto advantage, if the ruling power happens in its proceedings to evince\nany defect of prudence or consideration. And all those who take the part\nof that ruling authority will be considered as time-servers, or\nindifferent to the cause of uprightness and truth; while, on the other\nhand, the said authority may be accidentally supported by a violent\nultra party, which exalts opinions into dogmas, and has it principally\nat heart to destroy every school of thought but its own.\n\nSuch a state of things may be provoking and discouraging at the time, in\nthe case of two classes of persons; of moderate men who wish to make\ndifferences in religious opinion as little as they fairly can be made;\nand of such as keenly perceive, and are honestly eager to remedy,\nexisting evils,--evils, of which divines in this or that foreign country\nknow nothing at all, and which even at home, where they exist, 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 a\nbewilderment, and the more so, because it has the promise of continuing,\nand that with greater rapidity, and more signal results. Now these\ndiscoveries, certain or probable, have in matter of fact an indirect\nbearing upon religious opinions, and the question arises how are the\nrespective claims of revelation and of natural science to be adjusted.\nFew minds in earnest can remain at ease without some sort of rational\ngrounds for their religious belief; to reconcile theory and fact is\nalmost an instinct of the mind. When then a flood of facts, ascertained\nor suspected, comes pouring in upon us, with a multitude of others in\nprospect, all believers in Revelation, be they Catholic or not, are\nroused to consider their bearing upon themselves, both for the honour of\nGod, and from tenderness for those many souls who, in consequence of the\nconfident tone of the schools of secular knowledge, are in danger of\nbeing led away into a bottomless liberalism of thought.\n\nI am not going to criticize here that vast body of men, in the mass, who\nat this time would profess to be liberals in religion; and who look\ntowards the discoveries of the age, certain or in progress, as their\ninformants, direct or indirect, as to what they shall think about the\nunseen and the future. The Liberalism which gives a colour to society\nnow, is very different from that character of thought which bore the\nname thirty or forty years ago. Now it is scarcely a party; it is the\neducated lay world. When I was young, I knew the word first as giving\nname to a periodical, set up by Lord Byron and others. Now, as then, I\nhave no sympathy with the philosophy of Byron. Afterwards, Liberalism\nwas the badge of a theological school, of a dry and repulsive character,\nnot very dangerous in itself, though dangerous as opening the door to\nevils which it did not itself either anticipate or comprehend. At\npresent it is nothing else than that deep, plausible scepticism, of\nwhich I spoke above, as being the development of human reason, as\npractically exercised by the natural man.\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 or\nanger 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 satisfaction to the\nsoreness or annoyance occasioned by the acrimony or narrowness of\napologists for religion, to prove that Christianity or that Scripture is\nuntrustworthy. Many scientific and literary men, on the other hand, go\non, I am confident, in a straightforward impartial way, in their own\nprovince and on their own line of thought, without any disturbance from\nreligious difficulties in themselves, or any wish at all to give pain to\nothers by the result of their investigations. It would ill become me, as\nif I were afraid of truth of any kind, to blame those who pursue secular\nfacts, by means of the reason which God has given them, to their logical\nconclusions: or to be angry with science, because religion is bound in\nduty to take cognizance of its teaching. But putting these particular\nclasses of men aside, as having no special call on the sympathy of the\nCatholic, of course he does most deeply enter into the feelings of a\nfourth and large class of men, in the educated portions of society, of\nreligious and sincere minds, who are simply perplexed,--frightened or\nrendered desperate, as the case may be,--by the utter confusion into\nwhich late discoveries or speculations have thrown their most elementary\nideas of religion. Who does not feel for such men? who can have one\nunkind thought of them? I take up in their behalf St. Augustine's\nbeautiful words, \"Illi in vos s\u00e6viant,\" &c. Let them be fierce with you\nwho have no experience of the difficulty with which error is\ndiscriminated from truth, and the way of life is found amid the\nillusions of the world. How many a Catholic has in his thoughts followed\nsuch men, many of them so good, so true, so noble! how often has the\nwish risen in his heart that some one from among his own people should\ncome forward as the champion of revealed truth against its opponents!\nVarious persons, Catholic and Protestant, have asked me to do so myself;\nbut I had several strong difficulties in the way. One of the greatest is\nthis, that at the moment it is so difficult to say precisely what it is\nthat is to be encountered and overthrown. I am far from denying that\nscientific knowledge is really growing, but it is by fits and starts;\nhypotheses rise and fall; it is difficult to anticipate which of them\nwill keep their ground, and what the state of knowledge in relation to\nthem will be from year to year. In this condition of things, it has\nseemed to me to be very undignified for a Catholic to commit himself to\nthe work of chasing what might turn out to be phantoms, and, in behalf\nof some special objections, to be ingenious in devising a theory, which,\nbefore it was completed, might have to give place to some theory newer\nstill, from the fact that those former objections had already come to\nnought under the uprising of others. It seemed to be specially a time,\nin which Christians had a call to be patient, in which they had no other\nway of helping those who were alarmed, than that of exhorting them to\nhave a little faith and fortitude, and to \"beware,\" as the poet says,\n\"of dangerous steps.\" This seemed so clear to me, the more I thought of\nthe matter, as to make me surmise, that, if I attempted what had so\nlittle promise in it, I should find that the highest Catholic Authority\nwas against the attempt, and that I should have spent my time and my\nthought, in doing what either it would be imprudent to bring before the\npublic at all, or what, did I do so, would only complicate matters\nfurther which were already complicated, without my interference, more\nthan enough. 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 wisdom,\nwhich Moses inculcated on his people, when the Egyptians were pursuing\nthem, \"Fear ye not, stand still; the Lord shall fight for you, and ye\nshall hold your peace.\" And so far from finding a difficulty in obeying\nin this case, I have cause to be thankful and to rejoice to have so\nclear 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\nscrutinized in matters of detail. I have been speaking of that aspect of\nthe action of an infallible authority, which is most open to invidious\ncriticism from those who view it from without; I have tried to be fair,\nin estimating what can be said to its disadvantage, as witnessed at a\nparticular time in the Catholic Church, and now I wish its adversaries\nto be equally fair in their judgment upon its historical character. Can,\nthen, the infallible authority, with any show of reason, be said in fact\nto have destroyed the energy of the Catholic intellect? Let it be\nobserved, I have not here to speak of any conflict which ecclesiastical\nauthority has had with science, for this simple reason, that conflict\nthere has been none; and that, because the secular sciences, as they now\nexist, are a novelty in the world, and there has been no time yet for a\nhistory of relations between theology and these new methods of\nknowledge, and indeed the Church may be said to have kept clear of them,\nas is proved by the constantly cited case of Galileo. Here \"exceptio\nprobat regulam:\" 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 all along has been whether the assumption of\ninfallibility by the proper authority is adapted to make me a hypocrite,\nand till that authority passes decrees on pure physical subjects and\ncalls on me to subscribe them, (which it never will do, because it has\nnot the power,) it has no tendency to interfere by any of its acts with\nmy private judgment on those points. The simple question is, whether\nauthority has so acted upon the reason of individuals, that they can\nhave no opinion of their own, and have but an alternative of slavish\nsuperstition or secret rebellion of heart; and I think the whole history\nof theology puts an absolute negative upon such a supposition.\n\nIt is hardly necessary to argue out so plain a point. It is individuals,\nand not the Holy See, that have taken the initiative, and given the lead\nto the Catholic mind, in theological inquiry. Indeed, it is one of the\nreproaches urged against the Roman Church, that it has originated\nnothing, and has only served as a sort of _remora_ or break in the\ndevelopment of doctrine. And it is an objection which I really embrace\nas 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. Afterwards\nfor a long while, it has not a single doctor to show; St. Leo, its\nfirst, is the teacher of one point of doctrine; St. Gregory, who stands\nat the very extremity of the first age of the Church, has no place in\ndogma or philosophy. The great luminary of the western world is, as we\nknow, St. Augustine; he, no infallible teacher, has formed the intellect\nof Christian Europe; indeed to the African Church generally we must look\nfor the best early exposition of Latin ideas. Moreover, of the African\ndivines, the first in order of time, and not the least influential, is\nthe strong-minded and heterodox Tertullian. Nor is the Eastern\nintellect, as such, without its share in the formation of the Latin\nteaching. The free thought of Origen is visible in the writings of the\nWestern Doctors, Hilary and Ambrose; and the independent mind of Jerome\nhas enriched his own vigorous commentaries on Scripture, from the stores\nof the scarcely orthodox Eusebius. Heretical questionings have been\ntransmuted by the living power of the Church into salutary truths. The\ncase is the same as regards the Ecumenical Councils. Authority in its\nmost imposing exhibition, grave bishops, laden with the traditions and\nrivalries of particular nations or places, have been guided in their\ndecisions by the commanding genius of individuals, sometimes young and\nof inferior rank. Not that uninspired intellect overruled the\nsuper-human gift which was committed to the Council, which would be a\nself-contradictory assertion, but that in that process of inquiry and\ndeliberation, which ended in an infallible enunciation, individual\nreason was paramount. Thus Malchion, a mere presbyter, was the\ninstrument of the great Council of Antioch in the third century in\nmeeting and refuting, for the assembled Fathers, the heretical Patriarch\nof that see. Parallel to this instance is the influence, so well known,\nof a young deacon, St. Athanasius, with the 318 Fathers at Nic\u00e6a. In\nmedi\u00e6val times we read of St. Anselm at Bari, as the champion of the\nCouncil there held, against the Greeks. At Trent, the writings of St.\nBonaventura, and, what is more to the point, the address of a Priest and\ntheologian, Salmeron, had a critical effect on some of the definitions\nof dogma. In some of those cases the influence might be partly moral,\nbut in others it was that of a discursive knowledge of ecclesiastical\nwriters, a scientific acquaintance with theology, and a force of thought\nin the treatment of doctrine.\n\nThere are of course intellectual habits which theology does not tend to\nform, as for instance the experimental, and again the philosophical; but\nthat is because it _is_ theology, not because of the gift of\ninfallibility. But, as far as this goes, I think it could be shown that\nphysical science on the other hand, or again mathematical, affords but\nan imperfect training for the intellect. I do not see then how any\nobjection about the narrowness of theology comes into our question,\nwhich simply is, whether the belief in an infallible authority destroys\nthe independence of the mind; and I consider that the whole history of\nthe Church, and especially the history of the theological schools, gives\na negative to the accusation. There never was a time when the intellect\nof the educated class was more active, or rather more restless, than in\nthe middle ages. And then again all through Church history from the\nfirst, how slow is authority in interfering! Perhaps a local teacher, or\na doctor in some local school, hazards a proposition, and a controversy\nensues. It smoulders or burns in one place, no one interposing; Rome\nsimply lets it alone. Then it comes before a Bishop; or some priest, or\nsome professor in some other seat of learning takes it up; and then\nthere is a second stage of it. Then it comes before a University, and it\nmay be condemned 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 a\nlong while it comes before the supreme power. Meanwhile, the question\nhas been ventilated and turned over and over again, and viewed on every\nside of it, and authority is called upon to pronounce a decision, which\nhas already been arrived at by reason. But even then, perhaps the\nsupreme authority hesitates to do so, and nothing is determined on the\npoint for years: or so generally and vaguely, that the whole controversy\nhas to be gone through again, before it is ultimately determined. It is\nmanifest how a mode of proceeding, such as this, tends not only to the\nliberty, but to the courage, of the individual theologian or\ncontroversialist. Many a man has ideas, which he hopes are true, and\nuseful for his day, but he is not confident about them, and wishes to\nhave them discussed, He is willing, or rather would be thankful, to give\nthem up, if they can be proved to be erroneous or dangerous, and by\nmeans of controversy he obtains his end. He is answered, and he yields;\nor on the contrary he finds that he is considered safe. He would not\ndare to do this, if he knew an authority, which was supreme and final,\nwas watching 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 intellect\nmight truly be said to be beaten out of him. But this has not been\nso:--I do not mean to say that, when controversies run high, in schools\nor even in small portions of the Church, an interposition may not\nadvisably take place; and again, questions may be of that urgent nature,\nthat an appeal must, as a matter of duty, be made at once to the highest\nauthority in the Church; but if we look into the history of controversy,\nwe shall find, I think, the general run of things to be such as I have\nrepresented it. Zosimus treated Pelagius and C[oe]lestius with extreme\nforbearance; St. Gregory VII. was equally indulgent with\nBerengarius:--by reason of the very power of the Popes they have\ncommonly been slow and moderate in their use of it.\n\nAnd here again is a further shelter for the legitimate exercise of the\nreason:--the multitude of nations which are within the fold of the\nChurch will be found to have acted for its protection, against any\nnarrowness, on the supposition of narrowness, in the various authorities\nat Rome, with whom lies the practical decision of controverted\nquestions. How have the Greek traditions been respected and provided for\nin the later Ecumenical Councils, in spite of the countries that held\nthem being in a state of schism! There are important points of doctrine\nwhich have been (humanly speaking) exempted from the infallible\nsentence, by the tenderness with which its instruments, in framing it,\nhave treated the opinions of particular places. Then, again, such\nnational influences have a providential effect in moderating the bias\nwhich the local influences of Italy may exert upon the See of St. Peter.\nIt stands to reason that, as the Gallican Church has in it a French\nelement, so Rome must have in it an element of Italy; and it is no\nprejudice to the zeal and devotion with which we submit ourselves to the\nHoly See to admit this plainly. It seems to me, as I have been saying,\nthat Catholicity is not only one of the notes of the Church, but,\naccording to the divine purposes, one of its securities. I think it\nwould be a very serious evil, which Divine Mercy avert! that the Church\nshould be contracted in Europe within the range of particular\nnationalities. It is a great idea to introduce Latin civilization into\nAmerica, and to improve the Catholics there by the energy of French\ndevotedness; but I trust that all European races will ever have a place\nin the Church, and assuredly I think that the loss of the English, not\nto say the German element, in its composition has been a most serious\nmisfortune. And certainly, if there is one consideration more than\nanother which should make us English grateful to Pius the Ninth, it is\nthat, by giving us a Church of our own, he has prepared the way for our\nown habits 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       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere is only one other subject, which I think it necessary to introduce\nhere, as bearing upon the vague suspicions which are attached in this\ncountry to the Catholic Priesthood. It is one of which my accusers have\nbefore now said much,--the charge of reserve and economy. They found it\nin no slight degree on what I have said on the subject in my History of\nthe Arians, and in a note upon one of my Sermons in which I refer to it.\nThe principle of Reserve is also advocated by an admirable writer in two\nnumbers of the Tracts for the Times, and of these I was the Editor.\n\nNow, as to the Economy itself[20], it is founded upon the words of our\nLord, \"Cast not your pearls before swine;\" and it was observed by the\nearly Christians more or less, in their intercourse with the heathen\npopulations among whom they lived. In the midst of the abominable\nidolatries and impurities of that fearful time, the Rule of the Economy\nwas an imperative duty. But that rule, at least as I have explained and\nrecommended it, in anything that I have written, did not go beyond (1)\nthe concealing the truth when we could do so without deceit, (2) stating\nit only partially, and (3) representing it under the nearest form\npossible to a learner or inquirer, when he could not possibly understand\nit exactly. I conceive that to draw Angels with wings is an instance of\nthe third of these economical modes; and to avoid the question, \"Do\nChristians believe in a Trinity?\" by answering, \"They believe in only\none God,\" would be an instance of the second. As to the first, it is\nhardly an Economy, but comes under what is called the \"Disciplina\nArcani.\" The second and third economical modes Clement calls _lying_;\nmeaning that a partial truth is in some sense a lie, as is also a\nrepresentative truth. And this, I think, is about the long and the short\nof the ground of the accusation which has been so violently urged\nagainst me, as being a patron of the Economy.\n\n[20] Vide Note F, _The Economy_.\n\nOf late years I have come to think, as I believe most writers do, that\nClement meant more than I have said. I used to think he used the word\n\"lie\" as an hyperbole, but I now believe that he, as other early\nFathers, thought that, under certain circumstances, it was lawful to\ntell a lie. This doctrine I never maintained, though I used to think, as\nI do now, that the theory of the subject is surrounded with considerable\ndifficulty; and it is not strange that I should say so, considering that\ngreat English writers declare without hesitation that in certain extreme\ncases, as to save life, honour, or even property, a lie is allowable.\nAnd thus I am brought to the direct question of truth, and of the\ntruthfulness of Catholic priests generally in their dealings with the\nworld, as bearing on the general question of their honesty, and of their\ninternal belief in their religious professions.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt would answer no purpose, and it would be departing from the line of\nwriting which I have been observing all along, if I entered into any\nformal discussion on this question; what I shall do here, as I have done\nin the foregoing pages, is to give my own testimony on the matter in\nquestion, and there to leave it. Now first I will say, that, when I\nbecame a Catholic, nothing struck me more at once than the English\nout-spoken manner of the Priests. It was the same at Oscott, at Old Hall\nGreen, at Ushaw; there was nothing of that smoothness, or mannerism,\nwhich is commonly imputed to them, and they were more natural and\nunaffected than many an Anglican clergyman. The many years, which have\npassed since, have only confirmed my first impression. I have ever found\nit in the priests of this Diocese; did I wish to point out a\nstraightforward Englishman, I should instance the Bishop, who has, to\nour great benefit, for so many years presided over 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 which\nthey always gave evidence, and which they never seemed to feel, in any\nsense at all, to be a burden. And now that I have been in the Church\nnineteen years, I cannot recollect hearing of a single instance in\nEngland of an infidel priest. Of course there are men from time to time,\nwho leave the Catholic Church for another religion, but I am speaking of\ncases, when a man keeps a fair outside to the world and is a hollow\nhypocrite in his heart.\n\nI wonder that the self-devotion of our priests does not strike a\nProtestant in this point of view. What do they gain by professing a\nCreed, in which, if their enemies are to be credited, they really do not\nbelieve? What is their reward for committing themselves to a life of\nself-restraint and toil, and perhaps to a premature and miserable death?\nThe Irish fever cut off between Liverpool and Leeds thirty priests and\nmore, young men in the flower of their days, old men who seemed entitled\nto some quiet time after their long toil. There was a bishop cut off in\nthe North; but what had a man of his ecclesiastical rank to do with the\ndrudgery and danger of sick calls, except that Christian faith and\ncharity constrained him? Priests volunteered for the dangerous service.\nIt was the same with them on the first coming of the cholera, that\nmysterious awe-inspiring infliction. If they did not heartily believe in\nthe Creed of the Church, then I will say that the remark of the Apostle\nhad its fullest illustration:--\"If in this life only we have hope in\nChrist, we are of all men most miserable.\" What could support a set of\nhypocrites in the presence of a deadly disorder, one of them following\nanother in long order up the forlorn hope, and one after another\nperishing? And such, I may say, in its substance, is every\nMission-Priest's life. He is ever ready to sacrifice himself for his\npeople. Night and day, sick or well himself, in all weathers, off he is,\non the news of a sick call. The fact of a parishioner dying without the\nSacraments through his fault is terrible to him; why terrible, if he has\nnot a deep absolute faith, which he acts upon with a free service?\nProtestants admire this, when they see it; but they do not seem to see\nas 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 Church\nhas so well ordered a clergy, and that in that respect it surpasses\ntheir own; they wish they could have such exact discipline among\nthemselves. But is it an excellence which can be purchased? is it a\nphenomenon which depends on nothing else than itself, or is it an effect\nwhich has a cause? You cannot buy devotion at a price. \"It hath never\nbeen heard of in the land of Chanaan, neither hath it been seen in\nTheman. The children of Agar, the merchants of Meran, none of these have\nknown its way.\" What then is that wonderful charm, which makes a\nthousand men act all in one way, and infuses a prompt obedience to rule,\nas if they were under some stern military compulsion? How difficult to\nfind an answer, unless you will allow the obvious one, that they believe\nintensely what they profess!\n\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 vague\ncharges which are drawn from our books of Moral Theology; and with a\nshort notice of the work in particular which by our accusers is\nespecially thrown into our teeth, I shall bring these observations to a\nclose.\n\nSt. Alfonso Liguori, then, 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 an extraordinary case,\nand may 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 rule of conduct\nbetter; but, in saying so, I am not, as will shortly be seen, saying any\nthing disrespectful 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 different schools of thought,\ndistinctly say, that under certain extraordinary 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, 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 persecutors or\ntyrants?\" Again, Milton says: \"What man in his senses would deny, that\nthere are those whom we have the best grounds for considering that we\nought to deceive,--as boys, madmen, the sick, the intoxicated, enemies,\nmen in error, thieves? I would ask, by which of the commandments is a\nlie forbidden? You will say, by the ninth. If then my lie does not\ninjure my neighbour, certainly it is not forbidden by this commandment.\"\nPaley says: \"There are falsehoods, which are not lies, that is, which\nare not criminal.\" Johnson: \"The general rule is, that truth should\nnever be violated; there must, however, be some exceptions. If, for\ninstance, a murderer should ask you which way a man is gone.\"\n\nNow, I am not using these instances as an _argumentum ad hominem_; but\nthe purpose to which I put them is this:--\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 St.\nAlfonso, to meet Paley or Johnson to-morrow in society, would he look\nupon him as a liar, a knave, as dishonest and untrustworthy? I am sure\nhe would not. Why then does he not deal out the same measure to Catholic\npriests? If a copy of Scavini, which speaks of equivocation as being in\na just cause allowable, be found in a student's room at Oscott, not\nScavini himself, but even the unhappy student, who has what a Protestant\ncalls a bad book in his possession, is judged to be for life unworthy of\ncredit. Are all Protestant text-books, which are used at the University,\nimmaculate? Is it necessary to take for gospel every word of Aristotle's\nEthics, or every assertion of Hey or Burnett on the Articles? Are\ntext-books the ultimate authority, or rather are they not manuals in the\nhands of a lecturer, and the groundwork of his remarks? But, again, let\nus suppose, not the case of a student, or of a professor, but of Scavini\nhimself, or of St. Alfonso; now here again I ask, since you would not\nscruple in holding Paley for an honest man, in spite of his defence of\nlying, why do you scruple at holding St. Alfonso honest? I am perfectly\nsure that you would not scruple at Paley personally; you might not agree\nwith him, but you would not go further than to call him a bold thinker:\nthen why should St. Alfonso's person be odious to you, as well as his\ndoctrine?\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 _extreme_ or _special\ncases_. You would have no fear of a man who you knew had shot a burglar\ndead in 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 evil\nto tell a lie. Then why do you show such suspicion of a Catholic\ntheologian, who speaks of certain extraordinary cases in which an\nequivocation in a penitent cannot be visited by his confessor as if it\nwere 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 actually before him, lay down a maxim about the lawfulness of\nlying, which will startle most readers? The reason is plain. He is\nforming a theory of morals, and he must treat every question in turn as\nit comes. 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, and\nyou will see how difficult the work is. What is the _definition_ of a\nlie? Can you give a better than that it is a sin against justice, as\nTaylor and Paley consider it? but, if so, how can it be a sin at all, if\nyour neighbour is not injured? If you do not like this definition, take\nanother; and then, by means of that, perhaps you will be defending St.\nAlfonso's equivocation. However, this is what I insist upon; that St.\nAlfonso, as Paley, is considering the different portions of a large\nsubject, and he must, on the subject of lying, give his judgment, though\non that subject it is difficult to form any judgment which is\nsatisfactory.\n\nBut further still: you must not suppose that a philosopher or moralist\nuses in his own case the licence which his theory itself would allow\nhim. A man in his own person is guided by his own conscience; but in\ndrawing out a system of rules he is obliged to go by logic, and follow\nthe exact deduction of conclusion from conclusion, and must be sure that\nthe whole system is coherent and one. You hear of even immoral or\nirreligious books being written by men of decent character; there is a\nlate writer who says that David Hume's sceptical works are not at all\nthe picture of the man. A priest might write a treatise which was really\nlax on the subject of lying, which might come under the condemnation of\nthe Holy See, as some treatises on that score have already been\ncondemned, and yet in his own person be a rigorist. And, in fact, it is\nnotorious from St. Alfonso's Life, that he, who has the repute of being\nso lax a moralist, had one of the most scrupulous and anxious of\nconsciences himself. Nay, further than this, he was originally in the\nLaw, and on one occasion he was betrayed into the commission of what\nseemed like a deceit, though it was an accident; and that was the very\noccasion of 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 of\nthe process, he was completely mistaken regarding the sense of one\ndocument, which constituted the right of the adverse party. The advocate\nof the Grand Duke perceived the mistake, but he allowed Alfonso to\ncontinue his eloquent address to the end without interruption; as soon,\nhowever, as he had finished, he rose, and said with cutting coolness,\n'Sir, the case is not exactly what you suppose it to be; if you will\nreview the process, and examine this paper attentively, you will find\nthere precisely the contrary of all you have advanced.' 'Willingly,'\nreplied Alfonso, without hesitating; 'the decision depends on this\nquestion--whether the fief were granted under the law of Lombardy, or\nunder the French Law.' The paper being examined, it was found that the\nGrand Duke's advocate was in the right. 'Yes,' said Alfonso, holding the\npaper in his hand, 'I am wrong, I have been mistaken.' A discovery so\nunexpected, and the fear of being accused of unfair dealing filled him\nwith consternation, and covered him with confusion, so much so, that\nevery one saw his emotion. It was in vain that the President Caravita,\nwho loved him, and knew his integrity, tried to console him, by telling\nhim that such mistakes were not uncommon, even among the first men at\nthe bar. Alfonso would listen to nothing, but, overwhelmed with\nconfusion, his head sunk on his breast, he said to himself, 'World, I\nknow you now; courts of law, never shall you see me again!' And turning\nhis back on the assembly, he withdrew to his own house, incessantly\nrepeating to himself, 'World, I know you now.' What annoyed him most\nwas, that having studied and re-studied the process during a whole\nmonth, without having discovered this important flaw, he could not\nunderstand how it had escaped his observation.\"\n\nAnd this is the man, so easily scared at the very shadow of trickery,\nwho is so flippantly pronounced to be a patron of lying.\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, full\nof evil, and he is trying with all his might to rescue them from their\nmiserable state; and, in order to save them from more heinous sins, he\ntries, to the full extent that his conscience will allow him to go, to\nshut his eyes to such sins, as are, though sins, yet lighter in\ncharacter or degree. He knows perfectly well that, if he is as strict as\nhe would wish to be, he shall be able to do nothing at all with the run\nof men; so he is as indulgent with them as ever he can be. Let it not be\nfor an instant supposed, that I allow of the maxim of doing evil that\ngood may come; but, keeping clear of this, there is a way of winning men\nfrom greater sins by winking for the time at the less, or at mere\nimproprieties or faults; and this is the key to the difficulty which\nCatholic books of moral theology so often cause to the Protestant. They\nare intended for the Confessor, and Protestants view them as intended\nfor 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 lie\nwas allowable; and if, when he asked for my proof, I said in reply that\nsuch was the doctrine of Taylor and Milton? Why, he would sharply\nretort, \"_I_ am not bound by Taylor or Milton;\" and if I went on urging\nthat \"Taylor was one of his authorities,\" he would answer that Taylor\nwas a great writer, but great writers were not therefore infallible.\nThis is pretty much the answer which I make, when I am considered in\nthis matter a disciple of St. Alfonso.\n\nI plainly and positively state, and without any reserve, that I do not\nat 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 Natalis\nAlexander, nay, St. Augustine. I will quote one passage from Natalis\nAlexander:--\"They certainly lie, who utter the words of an oath, without\nthe will 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 language\nwas instituted, viz. as signs of ideas. Or they mean something else than\nthe words signify in themselves and the common custom of speech.\" And,\nto take an instance: I do not believe any priest in England would dream\nof saying, \"My friend is not here;\" meaning, \"He is not in my pocket or\nunder my shoe.\" Nor should any consideration make me say so myself. I do\nnot think St. Alfonso would in his own case have said so; and he would\nhave been as much shocked at Taylor and Paley, as Protestants are at\nhim[21].\n\n[21] Vide Note G, _Lying and Equivocation_.\n\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 of\ncasuistry, but at our catechisms. Works on pathology do not give the\nbest insight into the form and the harmony of the human frame; and, as\nit is with the body, so is it with the mind. The Catechism of the\nCouncil of Trent was drawn up for the express purpose of providing\npreachers with subjects for their Sermons; and, as my whole work has\nbeen a defence of myself, I may here say that I rarely preach a Sermon,\nbut I go to this beautiful and complete Catechism to get both my matter\nand my doctrine. There we find the following notices about the duty of\nVeracity:--\n\n\"'Thou shalt not bear false witness,' &c.: let attention be drawn to two\nlaws contained in this commandment:--the one, forbidding false witness;\nthe other bidding, that removing all pretence and deceits, we should\nmeasure our words and deeds by simple truth, as the Apostle admonished\nthe Ephesians of that duty in these words: 'Doing truth in charity, let\nus grow in Him through all things.'\n\n\"To deceive by a lie in joke or for the sake of compliment, though to no\none 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 credence to their words, they find it\nnecessary to make a practice of swearing.\n\n\"Nothing is more necessary [for us] than truth of testimony, in those\nthings, which we neither know ourselves, nor can allowably be ignorant\nof, on 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 one\nbecause he is not willing to do a service, the other because he has a\nwish to do a mischief.\n\n\"It is lawful at times to be silent about the truth, but out of a court\nof law; for in court, when a witness is interrogated by the judge\naccording 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 the\nfather of a lie; for, in that he did not remain in Truth, he is a liar,\nand the father of a lie. He will add, with the view of ridding men of so\ngreat a crime, the evils which follow upon lying; and, whereas they are\ninnumerable, he will point out [at least] the sources and the general\nheads of these mischiefs and calamities, viz. 1. How great is God's\ndispleasure and how great His hatred of a man who is insincere and a\nliar. 2. What little security there is that a man who is specially hated\nby God may not be visited by the heaviest punishments. 3. What more\nunclean and foul, as St. James says, than ... that a fountain by the\nsame jet should send out sweet water and bitter? 4. For that tongue,\nwhich just now praised God, next, as far as in it lies, dishonours Him\nby lying. 5. In consequence, liars are shut out from the possession of\nheavenly beatitude. 6. That too is the worst evil of lying, that that\ndisease of the mind is generally incurable.\n\n\"Moreover, there is this harm too, and one of vast extent, and touching\nmen generally, that by insincerity and lying faith and truth are lost,\nwhich are the firmest bonds of human society, and, when they are lost,\nsupreme confusion follows in life, so that men seem in nothing to differ\nfrom 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 used\nto lie for an occasion. He will tell them, what is most true, that the\nwisdom of the flesh is death. He will exhort his hearers to trust in\nGod, when they are in difficulties and straits, nor to have recourse to\nthe expedient of a lie.\n\n\"They who throw the blame of their own lie on those who have already by\na 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       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTo one other authority I appeal on this subject, which commands from me\nattention of a special kind, for it is the teaching of a Father. It will\nserve 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 any thing else.\n\n\"He avoided all ceremony which savoured of worldly compliment, and\nalways showed himself a great stickler for Christian simplicity in every\nthing; so that, when he had to deal with men of worldly prudence, he did\nnot very readily accommodate himself to them.\n\n\"And he avoided, as much as possible, having any thing to do with\n_two-faced persons_, who did not go simply and straightforwardly to work\nin 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 Catholic;\nthese are the principles which, I trust, will be my stay and guidance to\nthe end.\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. Philip's\nsons, my dearest brothers of this House, the Priests of the Birmingham\nOratory, Ambrose St. John, Henry Austin Mills, Henry Bittleston, Edward\nCaswall, William Paine Neville, and Henry Ignatius Dudley Ryder? who\nhave been so faithful to me; who have been so sensitive of my needs; who\nhave been so indulgent to my failings; who have carried me through so\nmany trials; who have grudged no sacrifice, if I asked for it; who have\nbeen so cheerful under discouragements of my causing; who have done so\nmany good works, and let me have the credit of them;--with whom I have\nlived so long, with whom I hope to die.\n\nAnd to you especially, dear Ambrose St. John; whom God gave me, when He\ntook every one else away; who are the link between my old life and my\nnew; 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 you;\nwho have watched me so narrowly; who have never thought of yourself, if\nI 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 me\ntrue attachment in times long past; and also those many younger men,\nwhether I knew them or not, who have never been disloyal to me by word\nor deed; and of all these, thus various in their relations to me, those\nmore especially who have since joined the Catholic Church.\n\nAnd I earnestly pray for this whole company, with a hope against hope,\nthat all of us, who once were so united, and so happy in our union, may\neven now be brought at length, by the Power of the Divine Will, into One\nFold and under One Shepherd.\n\n_May 26, 1864._\nIn Festo Corp. Christ.\n\n\n\n\nNOTES.\n\nNOTE A. ON PAGE 14.\n\nLIBERALISM.\n\n\nI have been asked to explain more fully what it is I mean by\n\"Liberalism,\" because merely to call it the Anti-dogmatic Principle is\nto tell very little about it. An explanation is the more necessary,\nbecause such good Catholics and distinguished writers as Count\nMontalembert and Father Lacordaire use the word in a favorable sense,\nand claim to be Liberals themselves. \"The only singularity,\" says the\nformer of the two in describing his friend, \"was his Liberalism. By a\nphenomenon, at that time unheard of, this convert, this seminarist, this\nconfessor of nuns, was just as stubborn a liberal, as in the days when\nhe was a student and a barrister.\"--Life (transl.), p. 19.\n\nI do not believe that it is possible for me to differ in any important\nmatter from two men whom I so highly admire. In their general line of\nthought and conduct I enthusiastically concur, and consider them to be\nbefore their age. And it would be strange indeed if I did not read with\na special interest, in M. de Montalembert's beautiful volume, of the\nunselfish aims, the thwarted projects, the unrequited toils, the grand\nand tender resignation of Lacordaire. If I hesitate to adopt their\nlanguage about Liberalism, I impute the necessity of such hesitation to\nsome differences between us in the use of words or in the circumstances\nof country; and thus I reconcile myself to remaining faithful to my own\nconception of it, though I cannot have their voices to give force to\nmine. Speaking then in my own way, I proceed to explain what I meant as\na Protestant by Liberalism, and to do so in connexion with the\ncircumstances under which that system of opinion came before me at\nOxford.\n\nIf I might presume to contrast Lacordaire and myself, I should say, that\nwe had been both of us inconsistent;--he, a Catholic, in calling himself\na Liberal; I, a Protestant, in being an Anti-liberal; and moreover, that\nthe cause of this inconsistency had been in both cases one and the same.\nThat is, we were both of us such good conservatives, as to take up with\nwhat we happened to find established in our respective countries, at the\ntime when we came into active life. Toryism was the creed of Oxford; he\ninherited, and made the best of, the French Revolution.\n\nWhen, in the beginning of the present century, not very long before my\nown time, after many years of moral and intellectual declension, the\nUniversity of Oxford woke up to a sense of its duties, and began to\nreform itself, the first instruments of this change, to whose zeal and\ncourage we all owe so much, were naturally thrown together for mutual\nsupport, against the numerous obstacles which lay in their path, and\nsoon stood out in relief from the body of residents, who, though many of\nthem men of talent themselves, cared little for the object which the\nothers had at heart. These Reformers, as they may be called, were for\nsome years members of scarcely more than three or four Colleges; and\ntheir own Colleges, as being under their direct influence, of course had\nthe benefit of those stricter views of discipline and teaching, which\nthey themselves were urging on the University. They had, in no long\ntime, enough of real progress in their several spheres of exertion, and\nenough of reputation out of doors, to warrant them in considering\nthemselves the _\u00e9lite_ of the place; and it is not wonderful if they\nwere in consequence led to look down upon the majority of Colleges,\nwhich had not kept pace with the reform, or which had been hostile to\nit. And, when those rivalries of one man with another arose, whether\npersonal or collegiate, which befall literary and scientific societies,\nsuch disturbances did but tend to raise in their eyes the value which\nthey had already set upon academical distinction, and increase their\nzeal in pursuing it. Thus was formed an intellectual circle or class in\nthe University,--men, who felt they had a career before them, as soon as\nthe pupils, whom they were forming, came into public life; men, whom\nnon-residents, whether country parsons or preachers of the Low Church,\non coming up from time to time to the old place, would look at, partly\nwith admiration, partly with suspicion, as being an honour indeed to\nOxford, but withal exposed to the temptation of ambitious views, and to\nthe spiritual evils signified in what is called the \"pride of reason.\"\n\nNor was this imputation altogether unjust; for, as they were following\nout the proper idea of a University, of course they suffered more or\nless from the moral malady incident to such a pursuit. The very object\nof such great institutions lies in the cultivation of the mind and the\nspread of knowledge: if this object, as all human objects, has its\ndangers at all times, much more would these exist in the case of men,\nwho were engaged in a work of reformation, and had the opportunity of\nmeasuring themselves, not only with those who were their equals in\nintellect, but with the many, who were below them. In this select circle\nor class of men, in various Colleges, the direct instruments and the\nchoice fruit of real University Reform, we see the rudiments of the\nLiberal party.\n\nWhenever men are able to act at all, there is the chance of extreme and\nintemperate action; and therefore, when there is exercise of mind, there\nis the chance of wayward or mistaken exercise. Liberty of thought is in\nitself a good; but it gives an opening to false liberty. Now by\nLiberalism I mean false liberty of thought, or the exercise of thought\nupon matters, in which, from the constitution of the human mind, thought\ncannot be brought to any successful issue, and therefore is out of\nplace. Among such matters are first principles of whatever kind; and of\nthese the most sacred and momentous are especially to be reckoned the\ntruths of Revelation. Liberalism then is the mistake of subjecting to\nhuman judgment those revealed doctrines which are in their nature beyond\nand independent of it, and of claiming to determine on intrinsic grounds\nthe truth and value of propositions which rest for their reception\nsimply on the external authority of the Divine Word.\n\nNow certainly the party of whom I have been speaking, taken as a whole,\nwere of a character of mind out of which Liberalism might easily grow\nup, as in fact it did; certainly they breathed around an influence which\nmade men of religious seriousness shrink into themselves. But, while I\nsay as much as this, I have no intention whatever of implying that the\ntalent of the University, in the years before and after 1820, was\nliberal in its theology, in the sense in which the bulk of the educated\nclasses through the country are liberal now. I would not for the world\nbe supposed to detract from the Christian earnestness, and the activity\nin religious works, above the average of men, of many of the persons in\nquestion. They would have protested against their being supposed to\nplace reason before faith, or knowledge before devotion; yet I do\nconsider that they unconsciously encouraged and successfully introduced\ninto Oxford a licence of opinion which went far beyond them. In their\nday they did little more than take credit to themselves for enlightened\nviews, largeness of mind, liberality of sentiment, without drawing the\nline between what was just and what was inadmissible in speculation, and\nwithout seeing the tendency of their own principles; and engrossing, as\nthey did, the mental energy of the University, they met for a time with\nno effectual hindrance to the spread of their influence, except (what\nindeed at the moment was most effectual, but not of an intellectual\ncharacter) the thorough-going Toryism and traditionary\nChurch-of-England-ism of the great body of the Colleges and Convocation.\n\nNow and then a man of note appeared in the Pulpit or Lecture Rooms of\nthe University, who was a worthy representative of the more religious\nand devout Anglicans. These belonged chiefly to the High-Church party;\nfor the party called Evangelical never has been able to breathe freely\nin the atmosphere of Oxford, and at no time has been conspicuous, as a\nparty, for talent or learning. But of the old High Churchmen several\nexerted some sort of Anti-liberal influence in the place, at least from\ntime to time, and that influence of an intellectual nature. Among these\nespecially may be mentioned Mr. John Miller, of Worcester College, who\npreached the Bampton Lecture in the year 1817. But, as far as I know, he\nwho turned the tide, and brought the talent of the University round to\nthe side of the old theology, and against what was familiarly called\n\"march-of-mind,\" was Mr. Keble. In and from Keble the mental activity of\nOxford took that contrary direction which issued in what was called\nTractarianism.\n\nKeble was young in years, when he became a University celebrity, and\nyounger in mind. He had the purity and simplicity of a child. He had few\nsympathies with the intellectual party, who sincerely welcomed him as a\nbrilliant specimen of young Oxford. He instinctively shut up before\nliterary display, and pomp and donnishness of manner, faults which\nalways will beset academical notabilities. He did not respond to their\nadvances. His collision with them (if it may be so called) was thus\ndescribed by Hurrell Froude in his own way. \"Poor Keble!\" he used\ngravely to say, \"he was asked to join the aristocracy of talent, but he\nsoon found his level.\" He went into the country, but his instance serves\nto prove that men need not, in the event, lose that influence which is\nrightly theirs, because they happen to be thwarted in the use of the\nchannels natural and proper to its exercise. He did not lose his place\nin the minds of men because he was out of their sight.\n\nKeble was a man who guided himself and formed his judgments, not by\nprocesses of reason, by inquiry or by argument, but, to use the word in\na broad sense, by authority. Conscience is an authority; the Bible is an\nauthority; such is the Church; such is Antiquity; such are the words of\nthe wise; such are hereditary lessons; such are ethical truths; such are\nhistorical memories; such are legal saws and state maxims; such are\nproverbs; such are sentiments, presages, and prepossessions. It seemed\nto me as if he ever felt happier, when he could speak or act under some\nsuch primary or external sanction; and could use argument mainly as a\nmeans of recommending or explaining what had claims on his reception\nprior to proof. He even felt a tenderness, I think, in spite of Bacon,\nfor the Idols of the Tribe and the Den, of the Market and the Theatre.\nWhat he hated instinctively was heresy, insubordination, resistance to\nthings established, claims of independence, disloyalty, innovation, a\ncritical, censorious spirit. And such was the main principle of the\nschool which in the course of years was formed around him; nor is it\neasy to set limits to its influence in its day; for multitudes of men,\nwho did not profess its teaching, or accept its peculiar doctrines, were\nwilling nevertheless, or found it to their purpose, to act in company\nwith it.\n\nIndeed for a time it was practically the champion and advocate of the\npolitical doctrines of the great clerical interest through the country,\nwho found in Mr. Keble and his friends an intellectual, as well as moral\nsupport to their cause, which they looked for in vain elsewhere. His\nweak point, in their eyes, was his consistency; for he carried his love\nof authority and old times so far, as to be more than gentle towards the\nCatholic Religion, with which the Toryism of Oxford and of the Church of\nEngland had no sympathy. Accordingly, if my memory be correct, he never\ncould get himself to throw his heart into the opposition made to\nCatholic Emancipation, strongly as he revolted from the politics and the\ninstruments by means of which that Emancipation was won. I fancy he\nwould have had no difficulty in accepting Dr. Johnson's saying about\n\"the first Whig;\" and it grieved and offended him that the \"Via prima\nsalutis\" should be opened to the Catholic body from the Whig quarter. In\nspite of his reverence for the Old Religion, I conceive that on the\nwhole he would rather have kept its professors beyond the pale of the\nConstitution with the Tories, than admit them on the principles of the\nWhigs. Moreover, if the Revolution of 1688 was too lax in principle for\nhim and his friends, much less, as is very plain, could they endure to\nsubscribe to the revolutionary doctrines of 1776 and 1789, which they\nfelt to be absolutely and entirely out of keeping with theological\ntruth.\n\nThe Old Tory or Conservative party in Oxford had in it no principle or\npower of development, and that from its very nature and constitution: it\nwas otherwise with the Liberals. They represented a new idea, which was\nbut gradually learning to recognize itself, to ascertain its\ncharacteristics and external relations, and to exert an influence upon\nthe University. The party grew, all the time that I was in Oxford, even\nin numbers, certainly in breadth and definiteness of doctrine, and in\npower. And, what was a far higher consideration, by the accession of Dr.\nArnold's pupils, it was invested with an elevation of character which\nclaimed the respect even of its opponents. On the other hand, in\nproportion as it became more earnest and less self-applauding, it became\nmore free-spoken; and members of it might be found who, from the mere\ncircumstance of remaining firm to their original professions, would in\nthe judgment of the world, as to their public acts, seem to have left it\nfor the Conservative camp. Thus, neither in its component parts nor in\nits policy, was it the same in 1832, 1836, and 1841, as it was in 1845.\n\nThese last remarks will serve to throw light upon a matter personal to\nmyself, which I have introduced into my Narrative, and to which my\nattention has been pointedly called, now that my Volume is coming to a\nsecond edition.\n\nIt has been strongly urged upon me to re-consider the following passages\nwhich occur in it: \"The men who had driven me from Oxford were\ndistinctly the Liberals, it was they who had opened the attack upon\nTract 90,\" p. 203, and \"I found no fault with the Liberals; they had\nbeaten me in a fair field,\" p. 214.\n\nI am very unwilling to seem ungracious, or to cause pain in any quarter;\nstill I am sorry to say I cannot modify these statements. It is surely a\nmatter of historical fact that I left Oxford upon the University\nproceedings of 1841; and in those proceedings, whether we look to the\nHeads of Houses or the resident Masters, the leaders, if intellect and\ninfluence make men such, were members of the Liberal party. Those who\ndid not lead, concurred or acquiesced in them,--I may say, felt a\nsatisfaction. I do not recollect any Liberal who was on my side on that\noccasion. Excepting the Liberal, no other party, as a party, acted\nagainst me. I am not complaining of them; I deserved nothing else at\ntheir hands. They could not undo in 1845, even had they wished it, (and\nthere is no proof they did,) what they had done in 1841. In 1845, when I\nhad already given up the contest for four years, and my part in it had\npassed into the hands of others, then some of those who were prominent\nagainst me in 1841, feeling (what they had not felt in 1841) the danger\nof driving a number of my followers to Rome, and joined by younger\nfriends who had come into University importance since 1841 and felt\nkindly towards me, adopted a course more consistent with their\nprinciples, and proceeded to shield from the zeal of the Hebdomadal\nBoard, not me, but, professedly, all parties through the\ncountry,--Tractarians, Evangelicals, Liberals in general,--who had to\nsubscribe to the Anglican formularies, on the ground that those\nformularies, rigidly taken, were, on some point or other, a difficulty\nto all parties alike.\n\nHowever, besides the historical fact, I can bear witness to my own\nfeeling at the time, and my feeling was this:--that those who in 1841\nhad considered it to be a duty to act against me, had then done their\nworst. What was it to me what they were now doing in opposition to the\nNew Test proposed by the Hebdomadal Board? I owed them no thanks for\ntheir trouble. I took no interest at all, in February, 1845, in the\nproceedings of the Heads of Houses and of the Convocation. I felt myself\n_dead_ as regarded my relations to the Anglican Church. My leaving it\nwas all but a matter of time. I believe I did not even thank my real\nfriends, the two Proctors, who in Convocation stopped by their Veto the\ncondemnation of Tract 90; nor did I make any acknowledgment to Mr.\nRogers, nor to Mr. James Mozley, nor, as I think, to Mr. Hussey, for\ntheir pamphlets in my behalf. My frame of mind is best described by the\nsentiment of the passage in Horace, which at the time I was fond of\nquoting, as expressing my view of the relation that existed between the\nVice-Chancellor and myself.\n\n                                          \"Pentheu,\n  Rector Thebarum, quid me perferre patique\n  Indignum cogas?\" \"Adimam bona.\" \"Nempe pecus, rem,\n  Lectos, argentum; tollas licet.\" \"In manicis et\n  Compedibus, s\u00e6vo te sub custode tenebo.\" (_viz. the 39 Articles._)\n  \"_Ipse Deus, simul atque volam, me solvet._\" Opinor,\n  Hoc sentit: _Moriar. Mors ultima linea rerum est._\n\nI conclude this notice of Liberalism in Oxford, and the party which was\nantagonistic to it, with some propositions in detail, which, as a member\nof the latter, and together with the High Church, I earnestly denounced\nand abjured.\n\n1. No religious tenet is important, unless reason shows it to be so.\n\n    Therefore, e.g. the doctrine of the Athanasian Creed is not to\n    be insisted on, unless it tends to convert the soul; and the\n    doctrine of the Atonement is to be insisted on, if it does\n    convert the soul.\n\n2. No one can believe what he does not understand.\n\n    Therefore, e.g. there are no mysteries in true religion.\n\n3. No theological doctrine is any thing more than an opinion which\nhappens to be held by bodies of men.\n\n    Therefore, e.g. no creed, as such, is necessary for salvation.\n\n4. It is dishonest in a man to make an act of faith in what he has not\nhad brought home to him by actual proof.\n\n    Therefore, e.g. the mass of men ought not absolutely to believe\n    in the divine authority of the Bible.\n\n5. It is immoral in a man to believe more than he can spontaneously\nreceive as being congenial to his moral and mental nature.\n\n    Therefore, e.g. a given individual is not bound to believe in\n    eternal punishment.\n\n6. No revealed doctrines or precepts may reasonably stand in the way of\nscientific conclusions.\n\n    Therefore, e.g. Political Economy may reverse our Lord's\n    declarations about poverty and riches, or a system of Ethics may\n    teach that the highest condition of body is ordinarily essential\n    to the highest state of mind.\n\n7. Christianity is necessarily modified by the growth of civilization,\nand the exigencies of times.\n\n    Therefore, e.g. the Catholic priesthood, though necessary in the\n    Middle Ages, may be superseded now.\n\n8. There is a system of religion more simply true than Christianity as\nit has ever been received.\n\n    Therefore, e.g. we may advance that Christianity is the \"corn of\n    wheat\" which has been dead for 1800 years, but at length will\n    bear fruit; and that Mahometanism is the manly religion, and\n    existing Christianity the womanish.\n\n9. There is a right of Private Judgment: that is, there is no existing\nauthority on earth competent to interfere with the liberty of\nindividuals in reasoning and judging for themselves about the Bible and\nits contents, as they severally please.\n\n    Therefore, e.g. religious establishments requiring subscription\n    are Anti-christian.\n\n10. There are rights of conscience such, that every one may lawfully\nadvance a claim to profess and teach what is false and wrong in matters,\nreligious, social, and moral, provided that to his private conscience it\nseems absolutely true and right.\n\n    Therefore, e.g. individuals have a right to preach and practise\n    fornication and polygamy.\n\n11. There is no such thing as a national or state conscience.\n\n    Therefore, e.g. no judgments can fall upon a sinful or infidel\n    nation.\n\n12. The civil power has no positive duty, in a normal state of things,\nto maintain religious truth.\n\n    Therefore, e.g. blasphemy and sabbath-breaking are not rightly\n    punishable by law.\n\n13. Utility and expedience are the measure of political duty.\n\n    Therefore, e.g. no punishment may be enacted, on the ground that\n    God commands it: e.g. on the text, \"Whoso sheddeth man's blood,\n    by man shall his blood be shed.\"\n\n14. The Civil Power may dispose of Church property without sacrilege.\n\n    Therefore, e.g. Henry VIII. committed no sin in his spoliations.\n\n15. The Civil Power has the right of ecclesiastical jurisdiction and\nadministration.\n\n    Therefore, e.g. Parliament may impose articles of faith on the\n    Church or suppress Dioceses.\n\n16. It is lawful to rise in arms against legitimate princes.\n\n    Therefore, e.g. the Puritans in the 17th century, and the French\n    in the 18th, were justifiable in their Rebellion and Revolution\n    respectively.\n\n17. The people are the legitimate source of power.\n\n    Therefore, e.g. Universal Suffrage is among the natural rights\n    of man.\n\n18. Virtue is the child of knowledge, and vice of ignorance.\n\n    Therefore, e.g. education, periodical literature, railroad\n    travelling, ventilation, drainage, and the arts of life, when\n    fully carried out, serve to make a population moral and happy.\n\nAll of these propositions, and many others too, were familiar to me\nthirty years ago, as in the number of the tenets of Liberalism, and,\nwhile I gave into none of them except No. 12, and perhaps No. 11, and\npartly No. 1, before I began to publish, so afterwards I wrote against\nmost of them in some part or other of my Anglican works.\n\nIf it is necessary to refer to a work, not simply my own, but of the\nTractarian school, which contains a similar protest, I should name the\n_Lyra Apostolica_. This volume, which by accident has been left\nunnoticed, except incidentally, in my Narrative, was collected together\nfrom the pages of the \"British Magazine,\" in which its contents\noriginally appeared, and published in a separate form, immediately after\nHurrell Froude's death in 1836. Its signatures, [Greek: a, b, g, d, e,\nz], denote respectively as authors, Mr. Bowden, Mr. Hurrell Froude, Mr.\nKeble, Mr. Newman, Mr. Robert Wilberforce, and Mr. Isaac Williams.\n\nThere is one poem on \"Liberalism,\" beginning \"Ye cannot halve the Gospel\nof God's grace;\" which bears out the account of Liberalism as above\ngiven; and another upon \"the Age to come,\" defining from its own point\nof view the position and prospects of Liberalism.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nI need hardly say that the above Note is mainly historical. How far the\nLiberal party of 1830-40 really held the above eighteen Theses, which I\nattributed to them, and how far and in what sense I should oppose those\nTheses now, could scarcely be explained without a separate Dissertation.\n\n\n\n\nNOTE B. ON PAGE 23.\n\nECCLESIASTICAL MIRACLES.\n\n\nThe writer, who gave occasion for the foregoing Narrative, was very\nsevere with me for what I had said about Miracles in the Preface to the\nLife of St. Walburga. I observe therefore as follows:--\n\nCatholics believe that miracles happen in any age of the Church, though\nnot for the same purposes, in the same number, or with the same\nevidence, as in Apostolic times. The Apostles wrought them in evidence\nof their divine mission; and with this object they have been sometimes\nwrought by Evangelists of countries since, as even Protestants allow.\nHence we hear of them in the history of St. Gregory in Pontus, and St.\nMartin in Gaul; and in their case, as in that of the Apostles, they were\nboth numerous and clear. As they are granted to Evangelists, so are they\ngranted, though in less measure and evidence, to other holy men; and as\nholy men are not found equally at all times and in all places, therefore\nmiracles are in some places and times more than in others. And since,\ngenerally, they are granted to faith and prayer, therefore in a country\nin which faith and prayer abound, they will be more likely to occur,\nthan where and when faith and prayer are not; so that their occurrence\nis irregular. 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 a\nprovidence 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, that is, not more\nthan providential mercies, or what are sometimes called \"_grazie_\" or\n\"favours.\"\n\nPersons, who believe all this, in accordance with Catholic teaching, as\nI did and do, they, on the report of a miracle, will of necessity, the\nnecessity of good logic, be led to say, first, \"It _may_ be,\" and\nsecondly, \"But I must have _good evidence_ in order to believe it.\"\n\n1. It _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 imposture.\nWell, this is precisely what I had said, which the writer, who has given\noccasion to this Volume, considered so irrational. I had said, as he\nquotes me, \"In this day, and under our present circumstances, we can\nonly reply, that there is no reason why they should not be.\" Surely this\nis good logic, _provided_ that miracles _do_ occur in all ages; and so\nagain I am logical in saying, \"There is nothing, _prim\u00e2 facie_, in the\nmiraculous accounts in question, to repel a _properly taught_ or\nreligiously disposed mind.\" What is the matter with this statement? My\nassailant does not pretend to say _what_ the matter is, and he cannot;\nbut he expresses a rude, unmeaning astonishment. Accordingly, in the\npassage which he quotes, I observe, \"Miracles are the kind of facts\nproper to ecclesiastical history, just as instances of sagacity or\ndaring, personal prowess, or crime, are the facts proper to secular\nhistory.\" What is the harm of this?\n\n2. But, though a miracle be conceivable, it has to be _proved_. _What_\nhas to be proved? (1.) That the event occurred as stated, and is not a\nfalse report or an exaggeration. (2.) That it is clearly miraculous, and\nnot a mere providence or answer to prayer within the order of nature.\nWhat is the fault of saying this? The inquiry is parallel to that which\nis made about some extraordinary fact in secular history. Supposing I\nhear that King Charles II. died a Catholic, I am led to say: It _may_\nbe, but what is your _proof_?\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_? To these three heads I had regard in my Essay of\n1842; and under them I still wish to conduct the inquiry into the\nmiracles of Ecclesiastical History.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSo much for general principles; as to St. Walburga, though I have no\nintention at all of denying that numerous miracles have been wrought by\nher intercession, still, neither the Author of her Life, nor I, the\nEditor, felt that we had grounds for binding ourselves to the belief of\ncertain alleged miracles in particular. I made, however, one exception;\nit was the medicinal oil which flows from her relics. Now as to the\n_verisimilitude_, the _miraculousness_, and the _fact_, of this\nmedicinal oil.\n\n1. The _verisimilitude_. It is plain there is nothing extravagant in\nthis report of her relics having a supernatural virtue; and for this\nreason, because there are such instances in Scripture, and Scripture\ncannot be extravagant. For instance, a man was restored to life by\ntouching the relics of the Prophet Eliseus. The sacred text runs\nthus:--\"And Elisha died, and they buried him. And the bands of the\nMoabites invaded the land at the coming in of the year. And it came to\npass, as they were burying a man, that, behold, they spied a band of\nmen; and they cast the man into the sepulchre of Elisha. And, when the\nman was 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_ by\nthe hands of Paul; so that _from his body_ were brought unto the sick\n_handkerchiefs or aprons_, and _the diseases departed from them_.\" And\nagain in the case of a pool: \"An _Angel went down_ at a certain season\ninto the pool, and troubled the water; whosoever then first, after the\ntroubling of the water, stepped in, _was made whole of whatsoever\ndisease_ he had.\" 2 Kings [4 Kings] xiii. 20, 21. Acts xix. 11, 12. John\nv. 4. Therefore there is nothing _extravagant_ in the _character_ of the\nmiracle.\n\n2. Next, the _matter of fact_:--_is_ there an oil flowing from St.\nWalburga's tomb, which is medicinal? To this question I confined myself\nin my Preface. Of the accounts of medieval miracles, I said that there\nwas no _extravagance_ in their _general character_, but I could not\naffirm that there was always _evidence_ for them. I could not simply\naccept them as _facts_, but I could not reject them in their\n_nature_;--they _might_ be true, for they were not impossible; but they\nwere _not proved_ to be true, because there was not trustworthy\ntestimony. However, as to St. Walburga, I repeat, I made _one_\nexception, the fact of the medicinal oil, since for that miracle there\nwas distinct and successive testimony. And then I went on to give a\nchain of witnesses. It was my duty to state what those witnesses said in\ntheir very words; so 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 deeds\nor miracles of Walburga.\" Then I said that her \"renown was not the mere\nnatural _growth_ of ages, but begins with the very century of the\nSaint's death.\" Then I observed that only two miracles seem to have been\n\"distinctly reported of her as occurring in her lifetime; and they were\nhanded down apparently by tradition.\" Also, that such miracles are said\nto have commenced about A.D. 777. Then I spoke of the medicinal oil as\nhaving testimony to it in 893, in 1306, after 1450, in 1615, and in\n1620. Also, I said that Mabillon seems not to have believed some of her\nmiracles; and that the earliest witness had got into trouble with his\nBishop. And so I left the matter, as a question to be decided by\nevidence, not deciding any thing myself.\n\nWhat was the harm of all this? but my Critic muddled it together in a\nmost extraordinary manner, and I am far from sure that he knew himself\nthe definite categorical charge which he intended it to convey against\nme. One of his remarks is, \"What has become of the holy oil for the last\n240 years, Dr. Newman does not say,\" p. 25. Of course I did not, because\nI did not know; I gave the evidence as I found it; he assumes that I had\na point to prove, and then asks why I did not make the evidence larger\nthan it was.\n\nI can tell him more about it now: the oil still flows; I have had some\nof it in my possession; it is medicinal still. This leads to the third\nhead.\n\n3. Its _miraculousness_. On this point, since I have been in the\nCatholic Church, I have found there is a difference of opinion. Some\npersons consider that the oil is the natural produce of the rock, and\nhas ever flowed from it; others, that by a divine gift it flows from the\nrelics; and others, allowing that it now comes naturally from the rock,\nare disposed to hold that it was in its origin miraculous, as was the\nvirtue of the pool of Bethsaida.\n\nThis point must be settled of course before the virtue of the oil can be\nascribed to the sanctity of St. Walburga; for myself, I neither have,\nnor ever have had, the means of going into the question; but I will take\nthe opportunity of its having come before me, to make one or two\nremarks, supplemental of what I have said on other occasions.\n\n1. I frankly confess that the present advance of science tends to make\nit probable that various facts take place, and have taken place, in the\norder of nature, which hitherto have been considered by Catholics as\nsimply supernatural.\n\n2. Though I readily make this admission, it must not be supposed in\nconsequence that I am disposed to grant at once, that every event was\nnatural in point of fact, which _might_ have taken place by the laws of\nnature; for it is obvious, no Catholic can bind the Almighty to act only\nin one and the same way, or to the observance always of His own laws. An\nevent which is possible in the way of nature, is certainly possible too\nto Divine Power without the sequence of natural cause and effect at all.\nA conflagration, to take a parallel, may be the work of an incendiary,\nor the result of a flash of lightning; nor would a jury think it safe to\nfind a man guilty of arson, if a dangerous thunderstorm was raging at\nthe very time when the fire broke out. In like manner, upon the\nhypothesis that a miraculous dispensation is in operation, a recovery\nfrom diseases to which medical science is equal, may nevertheless in\nmatter of fact have taken place, not by natural means, but by a\nsupernatural interposition. That the Lawgiver always acts through His\nown laws, is an assumption, of which I never saw proof. In a given case,\nthen, the possibility of assigning a human cause for an event does not\n_ipso facto_ prove that it is not miraculous.\n\n3. So far, however, is plain, that, till some _experimentum crucis_ can\nbe found, such as to be decisive against the natural cause or the\nsupernatural, an occurrence of this kind will as little convince an\nunbeliever that there has been a divine interference in the case, as it\nwill drive the Catholic to admit that there has been no interference at\nall.\n\n4. Still there is this gain accruing to the Catholic cause from the\nlarger views we now possess of the operation of natural causes, viz.\nthat our opponents will not in future be so ready as hitherto, to impute\nfraud and falsehood to our priests and their witnesses, on the ground of\ntheir pretending or reporting things that are incredible. Our opponents\nhave again and again accused us of false witness, on account of\nstatements which they now allow are either true, or may have been true.\nThey account indeed for the strange facts very differently from us; but\nstill they allow that facts they were. It is a great thing to have our\ncharacters cleared; and we may reasonably hope that, the next time our\nword is vouched for occurrences which appear to be miraculous, our facts\nwill be investigated, not our testimony impugned.\n\n5. Even granting that certain occurrences, which we have hitherto\naccounted miraculous, have not absolutely a claim to be so considered,\nnevertheless they constitute an argument still in behalf of Revelation\nand the Church. Providences, or what are called _grazie_, though they do\nnot rise to the order of miracles, yet, if they occur again and again in\nconnexion with the same persons, institutions, or doctrines, may supply\na cumulative evidence of the fact of a supernatural presence in the\nquarter in which they are found. I have already alluded to this point in\nmy Essay on Ecclesiastical Miracles, and I have a particular reason, as\nwill presently be seen, for referring here to what I said in the course\nof it.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn that Essay, after bringing its main argument to an end, I append to\nit a review of \"the evidence for particular alleged miracles.\" \"It does\nnot strictly fall within the scope of the Essay,\" I observe, \"to\npronounce upon the truth or falsehood of this or that miraculous\nnarrative, as it occurs in ecclesiastical history; but only to furnish\nsuch general considerations, as may be useful in forming a decision in\nparticular cases,\" p. cv. However, I thought it right to go farther and\n\"to set down the evidence for and against certain miracles as we meet\nwith them,\" ibid. In discussing these miracles separately, I make the\nfollowing remarks, to which I have just been referring.\n\nAfter discussing the alleged miracle of the Thundering Legion, I\nobserve:--\"Nor does it concern us much to answer the objection, that\nthere is nothing strictly miraculous in such an occurrence, because\nsudden thunderclouds after drought are not unfrequent; for, I would\nanswer, Grant me such miracles ordinarily in the early Church, and I\nwill ask no other; grant that, upon prayer, benefits are vouchsafed,\ndeliverances are effected, unhoped-for results obtained, sicknesses\ncured, tempests laid, pestilences put to flight, famines remedied,\njudgments inflicted, and there will be no need of analyzing the causes,\nwhether supernatural or natural, to which they are to be referred. They\nmay, or they may not, in this or that case, follow or surpass the laws\nof nature, and they may do so plainly or doubtfully, but the common\nsense of mankind will call them miraculous; for by a miracle is\npopularly meant, whatever be its formal definition, an event which\nimpresses upon the mind the immediate presence of the Moral Governor of\nthe world. He may sometimes act through nature, sometimes beyond or\nagainst it; but those who admit the fact of such interferences, will\nhave little difficulty in admitting also their strictly miraculous\ncharacter, if the circumstances of the case require it, and those who\ndeny miracles to the early Church will be equally strenuous against\nallowing her the grace of such intimate influence (if we may so speak)\nupon the course of divine Providence, as is here in question, even\nthough it be not miraculous.\"--p. cxxi.\n\nAnd again, speaking of the death of Arius: \"But after all, was it a\nmiracle? for, if not, we are labouring at a proof of which nothing\ncomes. The more immediate answer to this question has already been\nsuggested several times. When a Bishop with his flock prays night and\nday against a heretic, and at length begs of God to take him away, and\nwhen he _is_ suddenly taken away, almost at the moment of his triumph,\nand that by a death awfully significant, from its likeness to one\nrecorded in Scripture, is it not trifling to ask whether such an\noccurrence comes up to the definition of a miracle? The question is not\nwhether it is formally a miracle, but whether it is an event, the like\nof which persons, who deny that miracles continue, will consent that the\nChurch should be considered still able to perform. If they are willing\nto allow to the Church such extraordinary protection, it is for them to\ndraw the line to the satisfaction of people in general, between these\nand strictly miraculous events; if, on the other hand, they deny their\noccurrence in the times of the Church, then there is sufficient reason\nfor our appealing here to the history of Arius in proof of the\naffirmative.\"--p. clxxii.\n\nThese remarks, thus made upon the Thundering Legion and the death of\nArius, must be applied, in consequence of investigations made since the\ndate of my Essay, to the apparent miracle wrought in favour of the\nAfrican confessors in the Vandal persecution. Their tongues were cut out\nby the Arian tyrant, and yet they spoke as before. In my Essay I\ninsisted on this fact as being strictly miraculous. Among other remarks\n(referring to the instances adduced by Middleton and others in\ndisparagement of the miracle, viz. of \"a girl born without a tongue, who\nyet talked as distinctly and easily, as if she had enjoyed the full\nbenefit of that organ,\" and of a boy who lost his tongue at the age of\neight or nine, yet retained his speech, whether perfectly or not,) I\nsaid, \"Does Middleton mean to say, that, if certain of men lost their\ntongues _at the command of a tyrant_ for the _sake of their religion_,\nand then spoke _as plainly_ as before, nay _if only one person was so\nmutilated_ and so gifted, it would not be a miracle?\"--p. ccx. And I\nenlarged upon the minute details of the fact as reported to us by\neye-witnesses and contemporaries. \"Out of the seven writers adduced, six\nare contemporaries; three, if not four, are eye-witnesses of the\nmiracle. One reports from an eye-witness, and one testifies to a fervent\nrecord at the burial-place of the subjects of it. All seven were living,\nor had been staying, at one or other of the two places which are\nmentioned as their abode. One is a Pope, a second a Catholic Bishop, a\nthird a Bishop of a schismatical party, a fourth an emperor, a fifth a\nsoldier, a politician, and a suspected infidel, a sixth a statesman and\ncourtier, a seventh a rhetorician and philosopher. 'He cut out the\ntongues by the roots,' says Victor, Bishop of Vito; 'I perceived the\ntongues entirely gone by the roots,' says \u00c6neas; 'as low down as the\nthroat,' says Procopius; 'at the roots,' say Justinian and St. Gregory;\n'he spoke like an educated man, without impediment,' says Victor of\nVito; 'with articulateness,' says \u00c6neas; 'better than before;' 'they\ntalked without any impediment,' says Procopius; 'speaking with perfect\nvoice,' says Marcellinus; 'they spoke perfectly, even to the end,' says\nthe second Victor; 'the words were formed, full, and perfect,' says St.\nGregory.\"--p. ccviii.\n\nHowever, a few years ago an Article appeared in \"Notes and Queries\" (No.\nfor May 22, 1858), in which various evidence was adduced to show that\nthe tongue is not necessary for articulate speech.\n\n1. Col. Churchill, in his \"Lebanon,\" speaking of the cruelties of\nDjezzar Pacha, in extracting to the root the tongues of some Emirs,\nadds, \"It is a curious fact, however, that the tongues grow again\nsufficiently for the purposes of speech.\"\n\n2. Sir John Malcolm, in his \"Sketches of Persia,\" speaks of Z\u00e2b, Khan of\nKhisht, who was condemned to lose his tongue. \"This mandate,\" he says,\n\"was imperfectly executed, and the loss of half this member deprived him\nof speech. Being afterwards persuaded that its being cut close to the\nroot would enable him to speak so as to be understood, he submitted to\nthe operation; and the effect has been, that his voice, though\nindistinct and thick, is yet intelligible to persons accustomed to\nconverse with him.... I am not an anatomist, and I cannot therefore give\na reason, why a man, who could not articulate with half a tongue, should\nspeak when he had none at all; but the facts are as stated.\"\n\n3. And Sir John McNeill says, \"In answer to your inquiries about the\npowers of speech retained by persons who have had their tongues cut out,\nI can state from personal observation, that several persons whom I knew\nin Persia, who had been subjected to that punishment, spoke so\nintelligibly as to be able to transact important business.... The\nconviction in Persia is universal, that the power of speech is destroyed\nby merely cutting off the tip of the tongue; and is to a useful extent\nrestored by cutting off another portion as far back as a perpendicular\nsection can be made of the portion that is free from attachment at the\nlower surface.... I never had to meet with a person who had suffered\nthis punishment, who could not speak so as to be quite intelligible to\nhis familiar associates.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nI should not be honest, if I professed to be simply converted, by these\ntestimonies, to the belief that there was nothing miraculous in the case\nof the African confessors. It is quite as fair to be sceptical on one\nside of the question as on the other; and if Gibbon is considered worthy\nof praise for his stubborn incredulity in receiving the evidence for\nthis miracle, I do not see why I am to be blamed, if I wish to be quite\nsure of the full appositeness of the recent evidence which is brought to\nits disadvantage. Questions of fact cannot be disproved by analogies or\npresumptions; the inquiry must be made into the particular case in all\nits parts, as it comes before us. Meanwhile, I fully allow that the\npoints of evidence brought in disparagement of the miracle are _prim\u00e2\nfacie_ of such cogency, that, till they are proved to be irrelevant,\nCatholics are prevented from appealing to it for controversial purposes.\n\n\n\n\nNOTE C. ON PAGE 153.\n\nSERMON ON WISDOM AND INNOCENCE.\n\n\nThe professed basis of the charge of lying and equivocation made against\nme, and, in my person, against the Catholic clergy, was, as I have\nalready noticed in the Preface, a certain Sermon of mine on \"Wisdom and\nInnocence,\" being the 20th in a series of \"Sermons on Subjects of the\nDay,\" written, preached, and published while I was an Anglican. Of this\nSermon my accuser spoke thus in his Pamphlet:--\n\n    \"It is occupied entirely with the attitude of 'the world' to\n    'Christians' and 'the Church.' By the world appears to be\n    signified, especially, the Protestant public of these realms;\n    what Dr. Newman means by Christians, and the Church, he has not\n    left in doubt; for in the preceding Sermon he says: 'But if the\n    truth must be spoken, what are the humble monk and the holy nun,\n    and other regulars, as they are called, but Christians after the\n    very pattern given us in Scripture, &c.'.... This is his\n    definition of Christians. And in the Sermon itself, he\n    sufficiently defines what he means by 'the Church,' in two notes\n    of her character, which he shall give in his own words: 'What,\n    for instance, though we grant that sacramental confession and\n    the celibacy of the clergy do tend to consolidate the body\n    politic in the relation of rulers and subjects, or, in other\n    words, to aggrandize the priesthood? for how can the Church be\n    one body without such relation?'\"--Pp. 8, 9.\n\nHe then proceeded to analyze and comment on it at great length, and to\ncriticize severely the method and tone of my Sermons generally. Among\nother things, he said:--\n\n    \"What, then, did the Sermon _mean_? Why was it preached? To\n    insinuate that a Church which had sacramental confession and a\n    celibate clergy was the only true Church? Or to insinuate that\n    the admiring young gentlemen who listened to him stood to their\n    fellow-countrymen in the relation of the early Christians to the\n    heathen Romans? Or that Queen Victoria's Government was to the\n    Church of England what Nero's or Dioclesian's was to the Church\n    of Rome? It may have been so. I know that men used to suspect\n    Dr. Newman,--I have been inclined to do so myself,--of writing a\n    whole Sermon, not for the sake of the text or of the matter, but\n    for the sake of one single passing hint--one phrase, one\n    epithet, one little barbed arrow, which, as he swept\n    magnificently past on the stream of his calm eloquence,\n    seemingly unconscious of all presences, save those unseen, he\n    delivered unheeded, as with his finger-tip, to the very heart of\n    an initiated hearer, never to be withdrawn again. I do not blame\n    him for that. It is one of the highest triumphs of oratoric\n    power, and may be employed honestly and fairly by any person who\n    has the skill to do it honestly and fairly; but then, Why did he\n    entitle his Sermon 'Wisdom and Innocence?'\n\n    \"What, then, could I think that Dr. Newman _meant_? I found a\n    preacher bidding Christians imitate, to some undefined point,\n    the 'arts' of the basest of animals, and of men, and of the\n    devil himself. I found him, by a strange perversion of\n    Scripture, insinuating that St. Paul's conduct and manner were\n    such as naturally to bring down on him the reputation of being a\n    crafty deceiver. I found him--horrible to say it--even hinting\n    the same of one greater than St. Paul. I found him denying or\n    explaining away the existence of that Priestcraft, which is a\n    notorious fact to every honest student of history, and\n    justifying (as far as I can understand him) that double dealing\n    by which prelates, in the middle age, too often played off\n    alternately the sovereign against the people, and the people\n    against the sovereign, careless which was in the right, so long\n    as their own power gained by the move. I found him actually\n    using of such (and, as I thought, of himself and his party\n    likewise) the words 'They yield outwardly; to assent inwardly\n    were to betray the faith. Yet they are called deceitful and\n    double-dealing, because they do as much as they can, and not\n    more than they may.' I found him telling Christians that they\n    will always seem 'artificial,' and 'wanting in openness and\n    manliness;' that they will always be 'a mystery' to the world,\n    and that the world will always think them rogues; and bidding\n    them glory in what the world (i.e. the rest of their countrymen)\n    disown, and say with Mawworm, 'I like to be despised.'\n\n    \"Now, how was I to know that the preacher, who had the\n    reputation of being the most acute man of his generation, and of\n    having a specially intimate acquaintance with the weaknesses of\n    the human heart, was utterly blind to the broad meaning and the\n    plain practical result of a Sermon like this, delivered before\n    fanatic and hot-headed young men, who hung upon his every word?\n    that he did not foresee that they would think that they obeyed\n    him by becoming affected, artificial, sly, shifty, ready for\n    concealments and equivocations?\" &c. &c.--Pp. 14-16.\n\nMy accuser asked in this passage what did the Sermon _mean_, and why was\nit preached. I will here answer this question; and with this view will\nspeak, first of the _matter_ of the Sermon, then of its _subject_, then\nof its _circumstances_.\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 Living.\nThe MS. of the Sermon is destroyed; but I believe, and my memory too\nbears me out, as far as it goes, that the sentence in question about\nCelibacy and Confession, of which this writer would make so much, _was\nnot preached at all_. The Volume, in which this Sermon is found, was\npublished _after_ that I had given up St. Mary's, when I had no call on\nme to restrain the expression of any thing which I might hold: and I\nstated an important fact about it in the Advertisement, in these\nwords:--\n\n    \"In preparing [these Sermons] for publication, _a few words and\n    sentences_ have in several places been _added_, which will be\n    found to express more _of private or personal opinion_, than it\n    was expedient to introduce into the _instruction_ delivered in\n    Church to a parochial Congregation. Such introduction, however,\n    seems unobjectionable in the case of compositions, which are\n    _detached_ from the sacred place and service to which they once\n    belonged, and _submitted to the reason_ and judgment of the\n    general reader.\"\n\nThis Volume of Sermons then cannot be criticized 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; and, as I always was on my guard in the pulpit against saying any\nthing which looked towards Rome, I shall believe that I did not preach\nthe obnoxious sentence till some one is found to testify that he heard\nit.\n\nAt the same time I cannot conceive why the mention of Sacramental\nConfession, or of Clerical Celibacy, had I made it, was inconsistent\nwith the position of an Anglican Clergyman. For Sacramental Confession\nand Absolution actually form a portion of the Anglican Visitation of the\nSick; and though the 32nd Article says that \"Bishops, priests, and\ndeacons, are not _commanded_ by God's law either to vow the state of\nsingle life or to abstain from marriage,\" and \"therefore it is _lawful_\nfor them to marry,\" this proposition I did not dream of denying, nor is\nit inconsistent with St. Paul's doctrine, which I held, that it is\n\"_good_ to abide even as he,\" i.e. in celibacy.\n\nBut I have more to say on this point. This writer says, \"I know that men\nused to suspect Dr. Newman,--I have been inclined to do so myself,--of\n_writing a whole Sermon, not for the sake of the text or of the matter_,\nbut for the sake of one simple passing hint,--one phrase, one epithet.\"\nNow observe; can there be a plainer testimony borne to the practical\ncharacter of my Sermons at St. Mary's than this gratuitous insinuation?\nMany a preacher of Tractarian doctrine has been accused of not letting\nhis parishioners alone, and of teasing them with his private theological\nnotions. The same report was spread about me twenty years ago as this\nwriter spreads now, and the world believed that my Sermons at St. Mary's\nwere full of red-hot Tractarianism. Then strangers came to hear me\npreach, and were astonished at their own disappointment. I recollect the\nwife of a great prelate from a distance coming to hear me, and then\nexpressing her surprise to find that I preached nothing but a plain\nhumdrum Sermon. I recollect how, when on the Sunday before Commemoration\none year, a number of strangers came to hear me, and I preached in my\nusual way, residents in Oxford, of high position, were loud in their\nsatisfaction that on a great occasion, I had made a simple failure, for\nafter all there was nothing in the Sermon to hear. Well, but they were\nnot going to let me off, for all my common-sense view of duty.\nAccordingly they got up the charitable theory which this Writer revives.\nThey said that there was a double purpose in those plain addresses of\nmine, and that my Sermons were never so artful as when they seemed\ncommon-place; that there were sentences which redeemed their apparent\nsimplicity and quietness. So they watched during the delivery of a\nSermon, which to them was too practical to be useful, for the concealed\npoint of it, which they could at least imagine, if they could not\ndiscover. \"Men used to suspect Dr. Newman,\" he says, \"of writing a\n_whole_ Sermon, _not_ for the sake of _the text or of the matter_, but\nfor the sake of one single passing hint, ... _one_ phrase, _one_\nepithet, _one_ little barbed arrow, which, as he _swept magnificently_\npast on the stream of his calm eloquence, _seemingly_ unconscious of all\npresences, save those unseen, he delivered unheeded,\" &c. To all\nappearance, he says, I was \"unconscious of all presences.\" He is not\nable to deny that the \"_whole_ Sermon\" had the _appearance_ of being\n\"_for the sake_ of the text and matter;\" therefore he suggests that\nperhaps it wasn't.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n2. And now as to the subject of the Sermon. The Sermons of which the\nVolume consists are such as are, more or less, exceptions to the rule\nwhich I ordinarily observed, as to the subjects which I introduced into\nthe pulpit of St. Mary's. They are not purely ethical or doctrinal. They\nwere for the most part caused by circumstances of the day or of the\nmoment, and they belong to various years. One was written in 1832, two\nin 1836, two in 1838, five in 1840, five in 1841, four in 1842, seven in\n1843. Many of them are engaged on one subject, viz. in viewing the\nChurch in its relation to the world. By the world was meant, not simply\nthose multitudes which were not in the Church, but the existing body of\nhuman society, whether in the Church or not, whether Catholics,\nProtestants, Greeks, or Mahometans, theists or idolaters, as being ruled\nby principles, maxims, and instincts of their own, that is, of an\nunregenerate nature, whatever their supernatural privileges might be,\ngreater or less, according to their form of religion. This view of the\nrelation of the Church to the world as taken apart from questions of\necclesiastical politics, as they may be called, is often brought out in\nmy Sermons. Two occur to me at once; No. 3 of my Plain Sermons, which\nwas written in 1829, and No. 15 of my Third Volume of Parochial, written\nin 1835. On the other hand, by Church I meant,--in common with all\nwriters connected with the Tract Movement, whatever their shades of\nopinion, and with the whole body of English divines, except those of the\nPuritan or Evangelical School,--the whole of Christendom, from the\nApostles' time till now, whatever their later divisions into Latin,\nGreek, and Anglican. I have explained this view of the subject above at\npp. 69-71 of this Volume. When then I speak, in the particular Sermon\nbefore us, of the members, or the rulers, or the action of \"the Church,\"\nI mean neither the Latin, nor the Greek, nor the English, taken by\nitself, but of the whole Church as one body: of Italy as one with\nEngland, of the Saxon or Norman as one with the Caroline Church. _This_\nwas specially the one Church, and the points in which one branch or one\nperiod differed from another were not and could not be Notes of the\nChurch, because Notes necessarily belong to the whole of the Church\nevery where and always.\n\nThis being my doctrine as to the relation of the Church to the world, I\nlaid down in the Sermon three principles concerning it, and there left\nthe matter. The first is, that Divine Wisdom had framed for its action\nlaws, which man, if left to himself, would have antecedently pronounced\nto be the worst possible for its success, and which in all ages have\nbeen called by the world, as they were in the Apostles' days,\n\"foolishness;\" that man ever relies on physical and material force, and\non carnal inducements as Mahomet with his sword and his houris, or\nindeed almost as that theory of religion, called, since the Sermon was\nwritten, \"muscular Christianity;\" but that our Lord, on the contrary,\nhas substituted meekness for haughtiness, passiveness for violence, and\ninnocence for craft: and that the event has shown the high wisdom of\nsuch an economy, for it has brought to light a set of natural laws,\nunknown before, by which the seeming paradox that weakness should be\nstronger than might, and simplicity than worldly policy, is readily\nexplained.\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 meekness\nwhich comes from above,)--these men, I say, concluded, that the success\nwhich they witnessed must arise from some evil secret which the world\nhad not mastered,--by means of magic, as they said in the first ages, by\ncunning as they say now. And accordingly they thought that the humility\nand inoffensiveness of Christians, or of Churchmen, was a mere pretence\nand blind to cover the real causes of that success, which Christians\ncould explain and would not; and that they were simply hypocrites.\n\nThirdly, I suggested that shrewd ecclesiastics, who knew very well that\nthere 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 under\nthe temptation of substituting reason for conscience, and, instead of\nsimply obeying the command, were led to do good that good might come,\nthat is, to act _in order_ to secure success, and not from a motive of\nfaith. Some, I said, did yield to the temptation more or less, and their\nmotives became mixed; and in this way the world in a more subtle shape\nhad got into the Church; and hence it had come to pass, that, looking at\nits history from first to last, we could not possibly draw the line\nbetween good and evil there, and say either that every thing was to be\ndefended, or certain things to be condemned. I expressed the difficulty,\nwhich I supposed to be inherent in the Church, in the following words. I\nsaid, \"_Priestcraft has ever been considered the badge_, and its\nimputation is a kind of Note of the Church: and _in part indeed truly_,\nbecause the presence of powerful enemies, and the sense of their own\nweakness, _has sometimes tempted Christians to the abuse, instead of the\nuse of Christian wisdom, to be wise without being harmless_; but partly,\nnay, for the most part, not truly, but slanderously, and merely because\nthe world called their wisdom craft, when it was found to be a match for\nits own numbers and power.\"\n\nSuch is the substance of the Sermon: and as to the main drift of it, it\nwas this; that I was, there and elsewhere, scrutinizing the course of\nthe Church as a whole, as if philosophically, as an historical\nphenomenon, and observing the laws on which it was conducted. Hence the\nSermon, or Essay as it more truly is, is written in a dry and\nunimpassioned way: it shows as little of human warmth of feeling as a\nSermon of Bishop Butler's. Yet, under that calm exterior there was a\ndeep and keen sensitiveness, as I shall now proceed to show.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n3. If I mistake not, it was written with a secret thought about myself.\nEvery one preaches according to his frame of mind, at the time of\npreaching. One heaviness especially oppressed me at that season, which\nthis Writer, twenty years afterwards, has set himself with a good will\nto renew: it arose from the sense of the base calumnies which were\nheaped upon me on all sides. It is worth observing that this Sermon is\nexactly contemporaneous with the report spread by a Bishop (_vid. supr._\np. 181), that I had advised a clergyman converted to Catholicism to\nretain his Living. This report was in circulation in February 1843, and\nmy Sermon was preached on the 19th. In the trouble of mind into which I\nwas thrown by such calumnies as this, I gained, while I reviewed the\nhistory of the Church, at once an argument and a consolation. My\nargument was this: if I, who knew my own innocence, was so blackened by\nparty prejudice, perhaps those high rulers and those servants of the\nChurch, in the many ages which intervened between the early Nicene times\nand the present, who were laden with such grievous accusations, were\ninnocent also; and this reflection served to make me tender towards\nthose great names of the past, to whom weaknesses or crimes were\nimputed, and reconciled me to difficulties in ecclesiastical\nproceedings, which there were no means now of properly explaining. And\nthe sympathy thus excited for them, re-acted on myself, and I found\ncomfort in being able to put myself under the shadow of those who had\nsuffered as I was suffering, and who seemed to promise me their\nrecompense, since I had a fellowship in their trial. In a letter to my\nBishop at the time of Tract 90, part of which I have quoted, I said that\nI had ever tried to \"keep innocency;\" and now two years had passed since\nthen, and men were louder and louder in heaping on me the very charges,\nwhich this Writer repeats out of my Sermon, of \"fraud and cunning,\"\n\"craftiness and deceitfulness,\" \"double-dealing,\" \"priestcraft,\" of\nbeing \"mysterious, dark, subtle, designing,\" when I was all the time\nconscious to myself, in my degree, and after my measure, of \"sobriety,\nself-restraint, and control of word and feeling.\" I had had experience\nhow my past success had been imputed to \"secret management;\" and how,\nwhen I had shown surprise at that success, that surprise again was\nimputed to \"deceit;\" and how my honest heartfelt submission to authority\nhad been called, as it was called in a Bishop's charge abroad, \"mystic\nhumility;\" and how my silence was called an \"hypocrisy;\" and my\nfaithfulness to my clerical engagements a secret correspondence with the\nenemy. And I found a way of destroying my sensitiveness about these\nthings which jarred upon my sense of justice, and otherwise would have\nbeen too much for me, by the contemplation of a large law of the Divine\nDispensation, and felt myself more and more able to bear in my own\nperson a present trial, of which in my past writings I had expressed an\nanticipation.\n\nFor this feeling and thus speaking this Writer compares me to \"Mawworm.\"\n\"I found him telling Christians,\" he says, \"that they will always seem\n'artificial,' and 'wanting in openness and manliness;' that they will\nalways be 'a mystery' to the world; and that the world will always think\nthem rogues; and bidding them glory in what the world (that is, the rest\nof their fellow-countrymen) disown, and say with Mawworm, 'I like to be\ndespised.' Now how was I to know that the preacher ... was utterly blind\nto the broad meaning and the plain practical result of a Sermon like\nthis delivered before fanatic and hot-headed young men, who hung upon\nhis every word?\"--Fanatic and hot-headed young men, who hung on my every\nword! If he had undertaken to write a history, and not a romance, he\nwould have easily found out, as I have said above, that from 1841 I had\nsevered myself from the younger generation of Oxford, that Dr. Pusey and\nI had then closed our theological meetings at his house, that I had\nbrought my own weekly evening parties to an end, that I preached only by\nfits and starts at St. Mary's, so that the attendance of young men was\nbroken up, that in those very weeks from Christmas till over Easter,\nduring which this Sermon was preached, I was but five times in the\npulpit there. He would have found, that it was written at a time when I\nwas shunned rather than sought, when I had great sacrifices in\nanticipation, when I was thinking much of myself; that I was ruthlessly\ntearing myself away from my own followers, and that, in the musings of\nthat Sermon, I was at the very utmost only delivering a testimony in my\nbehalf for time to come, not sowing my rhetoric broadcast for the chance\nof present sympathy.\n\nAgain, he says: \"I found him actually using of such [prelates], (and, as\nI thought, of himself and his party likewise,) the words 'They yield\noutwardly; to assent inwardly were to betray the faith. Yet they are\ncalled deceitful and double-dealing, because they do as much as they\ncan, not more than they may.'\" This too is a proof of my duplicity! Let\nthis writer, in his dealings with some one else, go just a little\nfurther than he has gone with me; and let him get into a court of law\nfor libel; and let him be convicted; and let him still fancy that his\nlibel, though a libel, was true, and let us then see whether he will not\nin such a case \"yield outwardly,\" without assenting internally; and then\nagain whether we should please him, if we called him \"deceitful and\ndouble-dealing,\" because \"he did as much as he could, not more than he\nought to do.\" But Tract 90 will supply a real illustration of what I\nmeant. I yielded to the Bishops in outward act, viz. in not defending\nthe Tract, and in closing the Series; but, not only did I not assent\ninwardly to any condemnation of it, but I opposed myself to the\nproposition of a condemnation on the part of authority. Yet I was then\nby the public called \"deceitful and double-dealing,\" as this Writer\ncalls me now, \"because I did as much as I felt I could do, and not more\nthan I felt I could honestly do.\" Many were the publications of the day\nand the private letters, which accused me of shuffling, because I closed\nthe Series of Tracts, yet kept the Tracts on sale, as if I ought to\ncomply not only with what my Bishop asked, but with what he did not ask,\nand perhaps did not wish. However, such teaching, according to this\nWriter, was likely to make young men \"suspect, that truth was not a\nvirtue for its own sake, but only for the sake of the spread of\n'Catholic opinions,' and the 'salvation of their own souls;' and that\ncunning was the weapon which heaven had allowed to them to defend\nthemselves against the persecuting Protestant public.\"--p. 16.\n\nAnd now I draw attention to a further point. He says, \"How was I to know\nthat the preacher ... did not foresee, that [fanatic and hot-headed\nyoung men] would think that they obeyed him, by becoming affected,\nartificial, sly, shifty, ready for concealments and _equivocations_?\"\n\"How should he know!\" What! I suppose that we are to think every man a\nknave till he is proved not to be such. Know! had he no friend to tell\nhim whether I was \"affected\" or \"artificial\" myself? Could he not have\ndone better than impute _equivocations_ to me, at a time when I was in\nno sense answerable for the _amphibologia_ of the Roman casuists? Had he\na single fact which belongs to me personally or by profession to couple\nmy name with equivocation in 1843? \"How should he know\" that I was not\nsly, smooth, artificial, non-natural! he should know by that common\nmanly frankness, by which we put confidence in others, till they are\nproved to have forfeited it; he should know it by my own words in that\nvery Sermon, in which I say it is best to be natural, and that reserve\nis at best but an unpleasant necessity. For I say there expressly:--\n\n    \"I do not deny that there is something very engaging in a frank\n    and unpretending manner; some persons have it more than others;\n    in _some persons it is a great grace_. But it must be\n    recollected that I am speaking of _times of persecution and\n    oppression_ to Christians, such as the text foretells; and then\n    surely frankness will become nothing else than indignation at\n    the oppressor, and vehement speech, if it is permitted.\n    Accordingly, as persons have deep feelings, so they will find\n    the necessity of self-control, lest they should say what they\n    ought not.\"\n\nHe sums up thus:\n\n    \"If [Dr. Newman] would ... persist (as in this Sermon) in\n    dealing with matters dark, offensive, doubtful, sometimes\n    actually forbidden, at least according to the notions of the\n    great majority of English Churchmen; if he would always do so in\n    a tentative, paltering way, seldom or never letting the world\n    know how much he believed, how far he intended to go; if, in a\n    word, his method of teaching was a suspicious one, what wonder\n    if the minds of men were filled with suspicions of him?\"--p. 17.\n\nNow, in the course of my Narrative, I have frankly admitted that I was\ntentative in such of my works as fairly allowed of the introduction into\nthem of religious inquiry; but he is speaking of my Sermons; where,\nthen, is his proof that in my Sermons I dealt in matters dark,\noffensive, doubtful, actually forbidden? He must show that I was\ntentative in my Sermons; and he has the range of eight volumes to gather\nevidence in. As to the ninth, my University Sermons, of course I was\ntentative in them; but not because \"I would seldom or never let the\nworld know how much I believed, or how far I intended to go;\" but\nbecause University Sermons are commonly, and allowably, of the nature of\ndisquisitions, as preached before a learned body; and because in deep\nsubjects, which had not been fully investigated, I said as much as I\nbelieved, and about as far as I saw I could go; and a man cannot do\nmore; and I account no man to be a philosopher who attempts to do more.\n\n\n\n\nNOTE D. ON PAGE 213.\n\nSERIES OF SAINTS' LIVES OF 1843-4.\n\n\nI have here an opportunity of preserving, what otherwise would be lost,\nthe Catalogue of English Saints which I formed, as preparatory to the\nSeries of their Lives which was begun in the above years. It is but a\nfirst Essay, and has many obvious imperfections; but it may be useful to\nothers as a step towards a complete hagiography for England. For\ninstance St. Osberga is omitted; I suppose because it was not easy to\nlearn any thing about her. Boniface of Canterbury is inserted, though\npassed over by the Bollandists on the ground of the absence of proof of\na _cultus_ having been paid to him. The Saints of Cornwall were too\nnumerous to be attempted. Among the men of note, not Saints, King Edward\nII. is included from piety towards the founder of Oriel College. With\nthese admissions I present my Paper to the reader.\n\n    _Preparing for Publication, in Periodical Numbers, in small 8vo,\n    The Lives of the English Saints, Edited by the Rev. John Henry\n    Newman, B.D., Fellow of Oriel College._\n\n    It is the compensation of the disorders and perplexities of\n    these latter times of the Church that we have the history of the\n    foregoing. We indeed of this day have been reserved to witness a\n    disorganization of the City of God, which it never entered into\n    the minds of the early believers to imagine: but we are\n    witnesses also of its triumphs and of its luminaries through\n    those many ages which have brought about the misfortunes which\n    at present overshadow it. If they were blessed who lived in\n    primitive times, and saw the fresh traces of their Lord, and\n    heard the echoes of Apostolic voices, blessed too are we whose\n    special portion it is to see that same Lord revealed in His\n    Saints. The wonders of His grace in the soul of man, its\n    creative power, its inexhaustible resources, its manifold\n    operation, all this we know, as they knew it not. They never\n    heard the names of St. Gregory, St. Bernard, St. Francis, and\n    St. Louis. In fixing our thoughts then, as in an undertaking\n    like the present, on the History of the Saints, we are but\n    availing ourselves of that solace and recompense of our peculiar\n    trials which has been provided for our need by our Gracious\n    Master.\n\n    And there are special reasons at this time for recurring to the\n    Saints of our own dear and glorious, most favoured, yet most\n    erring and most unfortunate England. Such a recurrence may serve\n    to make us love our country better, and on truer grounds, than\n    heretofore; to teach us to invest her territory, her cities and\n    villages, her hills and springs, with sacred associations; to\n    give us an insight into her present historical position in the\n    course of the Divine Dispensation; to instruct us in the\n    capabilities of the English character; and to open upon us the\n    duties and the hopes to which that Church is heir, which was in\n    former times the Mother of St. Boniface and St. Ethelreda.\n\n    Even a selection or specimens of the Hagiology of our country\n    may suffice for some of these high purposes; and in so wide and\n    rich a field of research it is almost presumptuous in one\n    undertaking to aim at more than such a partial exhibition. The\n    list that follows, though by no means so large as might have\n    been drawn up, exceeds the limits which the Editor proposes to\n    his hopes, if not to his wishes; but, whether it is allowed him\n    to accomplish a larger or smaller portion of it, it will be his\n    aim to complete such subjects or periods as he begins before\n    bringing it to a close. It is hardly necessary to observe that\n    any list that is producible in this stage of the undertaking can\n    but approximate to correctness and completeness in matters of\n    detail, and even in the names which are selected to compose it.\n\n    He has considered himself at liberty to include in the Series\n    such saints as have been born in England, though they have lived\n    and laboured out of it; and such, again, as have been in any\n    sufficient way connected with our country, though born out of\n    it; for instance, Missionaries or Preachers in it, or spiritual\n    or temporal rulers, or founders of religious institutions or\n    houses.\n\n    He has also included in the Series a few eminent or holy\n    persons, who, though not in the Sacred Catalogue, are\n    recommended to our religious memory by their fame, learning, or\n    the benefits they have conferred on posterity. These have been\n    distinguished from the Saints by printing their names in\n    italics.\n\n    It is proposed to page all the longer Lives separately; the\n    shorter will be thrown together in one. They will be published\n    in monthly issues of not more than 128 pages each; and no\n    regularity, whether of date or of subject, will be observed in\n    the order of publication. But they will be so numbered as to\n    admit ultimately of a general chronological arrangement.\n\n    The separate writers are distinguished by letters subjoined to\n    each Life: and it should be added, to prevent misapprehension,\n    that, since under the present circumstances of our Church, they\n    are necessarily of various, though not divergent, doctrinal\n    opinions, no one is answerable for any composition but his own.\n    At the same time, the work professing an historical and ethical\n    character, questions of theology will be, as far as possible,\n    thrown into the back ground.\n\nJ. H. N.\n_Littlemore, Sept. 9, 1843._\n\n\nCALENDAR OF ENGLISH SAINTS.\n\n\nJANUARY.\n 1 Elvan, B. and Medwyne, C.\n 2 Martyrs of Lichfield.\n 3 Melorus, M.\n 4\n 5 Edward, K.C.\n 6 Peter, A.\n 7 Cedd, B.\n 8 Pega, V. Wulsin, B.\n 9 Adrian, A. Bertwald, Archb.\n10 Sethrida, V.\n11 Egwin, B.\n12 Benedict Biscop, A. Aelred, A.\n13 Kentigern, B.\n14 Beuno, A.\n15 Ceolulph, K. Mo.\n16 Henry, Hermit. Fursey, A.\n17 Mildwida, V.\n18 Ulfrid or Wolfrid, M.\n19 Wulstan, B. Henry, B.\n20\n21\n22 Brithwold, B.\n23 Boisil, A.\n24 Cadoc, A.\n25\n26 Theoritgida, V.\n27 Bathildis, Queen.\n28\n29 Gildas, A.\n30\n31 Adamnan, Mo. Serapion, M.\n\nFEBRUARY.\n\n 1\n 2 Laurence, Archb.\n 3 Wereburga, V.\n 4 Gilbert, A. Liephard, B.M.\n 5\n 6 Ina, K. Mo.\n 7 Augulus, B.M. Richard, K.\n 8 Elfleda, A. Cuthman, C.\n 9 Theliau, B.\n10 Trumwin, B.\n11\n12 Ethelwold, B. of Lindisfarne.\n13 Cedmon, Mo., Ermenilda, Q.A.\n14\n15 Sigefride, B.\n16 Finan, B.\n17\n18\n19\n20 Ulric, H.\n21\n22\n23 Milburga, V.\n24 Luidhard, B. Ethelbert of Kent,\n25 Walburga, V.A.\n26\n27 Alnoth, H.M.\n28 Oswald, B.\n29\n\nMARCH.\n\n 1 David, Archb. Swibert, B.\n 2 Chad, B. Willeik, C. Joavan, B.\n 3 Winwaloe, A.\n 4 Owin, Mo.\n 5\n 6 Kineburga, &c., and Tibba, VV.\n 7 Easterwin, A. William, Friar.\n 8 Felix, B.\n 9 Bosa, B.\n10\n11\n12 Elphege, B. Paul de Leon, B.C.\n13\n14 Robert, H.\n15 Eadgith, A.\n16\n17 Withburga, V.\n18 Edward, K.M.\n19 Alcmund, M.\n20 Cuthbert, B. Herbert, B.\n21\n22\n23 \u00c6delwald, H.\n24 Hildelitha, A.\n25 Alfwold of Sherborne, B. and William, M.\n26\n27\n28\n29 Gundleus, H.\n30 Merwenna, A.\n31\n\nAPRIL.\n\n 1\n 2\n 3 Richard, B.\n 4\n 5\n 6\n 7\n 8\n 9 Frithstan, B.\n10\n11 Guthlake, H.\n12\n13 Caradoc, H.\n14 _Richard of Bury, B._\n15 Paternus, B.\n16\n17 Stephen. A.\n18\n19 Elphege, Archb.\n20 Adelbare, M. Cedwalla, K.\n21 Anselm, Archb. Doctor.\n22\n23 George M.\n24\n25\n26\n27\n28\n29 Wilfrid II. Archb.\n30 Erconwald, B. Suibert, B. _Maud, Q._\n\nMAY.\n\n 1 Asaph, B. Ultan, A. Brioe, B.C.\n 2 Germanus, M.\n 3\n 4\n 5 Ethelred, K. Mo.\n 6 Eadbert, A.\n 7 John, Archb. of Beverley.\n 8\n 9\n10\n11 Fremund, M.\n12\n13\n14\n15\n16 Simon Stock, H.\n17\n18 Elgiva, Q.\n19 Dunstan, Archb.  _B. Alcuin, A._\n20 Ethelbert, K.M.\n21 Godric, H.\n22 Winewald, A.  Berethun, A. _Henry, K._\n23\n24 Ethelburga, Q.\n25 Aldhelm, B.\n26 Augustine, Archb.\n27 Bede, D. Mo.\n28 _Lanfranc, Archb._\n29\n30 Walston, C.\n31 Jurmin, C.\n\nJUNE.\n\n 1 Wistan, K.M.\n 2\n 3\n 4 Petroc, A.\n 5 Boniface, Archb. M.\n 6 Gudwall, B.\n 7 Robert, A.\n 8 William, Archb.\n 9\n10 Ivo, B. and Ithamar, B.\n11\n12 Eskill, B.M.\n13\n14 Elerius, A.\n15 Edburga, V.\n16\n17 Botulph, A. John, Fr.\n18\n19\n20 Idaberga, V.\n21 Egelmund, A.\n22 Alban, and Amphibolus, MM.\n23 Ethelreda, V.A.\n24 Bartholomew, H.\n25 Adelbert, C.\n26\n27 John, C. of Moutier.\n28\n29 _Margaret, Countess of Richmond._\n30\n\nJULY.\n\n 1 Julius, Aaron, MM. Rumold, B. Leonorus, B.\n 2 Oudoceus, B. Swithun, B.\n 3 Gunthiern, A.\n 4 Odo, Archb.\n 5 Modwenna, V.A.\n 6 Sexburga, A.\n 7 Edelburga, V.A. Hedda, B. Willibald, B. Ercongota, V.\n 8 Grimbald, and Edgar, K.\n 9 _Stephen Langton, Archb._\n10\n11\n12\n13 Mildreda, V.A.\n14 Marchelm, C. Boniface, Archb.\n15 Deus-dedit, Archb. Plechelm, B. David, A. and Editha of Tamworth,\nQ.V.\n16 Helier, H.M.\n17 Kenelm, K.M.\n18 Edburga and Edgitha of Aylesbury, VV. Frederic, B.M.\n19\n20\n21\n22\n23\n24 Wulfud and Ruffin, MM. Lewinna, V.M.\n25\n26\n27 Hugh, M.\n28 Sampson, B.\n29 Lupus, B.\n30 Tatwin, Archb. and Ermenigitha, V.\n31 Germanus, B. and Neot, H.\n\nAUGUST.\n\n 1 Ethelwold, B. of Winton.\n 2 Etheldritha, V.\n 3 Walthen, A.\n 4\n 5 Oswald, K.M. Thomas, Mo. M. of Dover.\n 6\n 7\n 8 Colman, B.\n 9\n10\n11 _William of Waynfleet, B._\n12\n13 Wigbert, A. Walter, A.\n14 Werenfrid, C.\n15\n16\n17\n18 Helen, Empress.\n19\n20 Oswin, K.M.\n21 Richard, B. of Andria.\n22 Sigfrid, A.\n23 Ebba, V.A.\n24\n25 Ebba, V.A.M.\n26 Bregwin, Archb. _Bradwardine, Archb._\n27 Sturmius, A.\n28\n29 Sebbus, K.\n30\n31 Eanswida, V.A. Aidan, A.B. Cuthburga, Q.V.\n\nSEPTEMBER.\n\n 1\n 2 William, B. of Roschid. William, Fr.\n 3\n 4\n 5\n 6 Bega, A.\n 7 Alcmund, A. Tilhbert, A.\n 8\n 9 Bertelin, H. Wulfhilda or Vulfridis, A.\n10 Otger, C.\n11 _Robert Kilwardby, Archb._\n12\n13\n14 _Richard Fox, B._\n15\n16 Ninian, B. Edith, daughter of Edgar, V.\n17 Socrates and Stephen, MM.\n18\n19 Theodore, Archb.\n20\n21 Hereswide, Q. _Edward II. K._\n22\n23\n24\n25 Ceolfrid, A.\n26\n27 _William of Wykeham, B._\n28 Lioba, V.A.\n29 _B. Richard of Hampole, H._\n30 Honorius, Archb.\n\nOCTOBER.\n\n 1 Roger, B.\n 2 Thomas of Hereford, B.\n 3 Ewalds (two) MM.\n 4\n 5 Walter Stapleton, B. Acca, B.\n 6 Ywy, C.\n 7 Ositha, Q.V.M.\n 8 Ceneu, V.\n 9 Lina, V. and _Robert Grostete, B._\n10 Paulinus, Archb. John, C. of Bridlington.\n11 Edilburga, V.A.\n12 Edwin, K.\n13\n14 Burchard, B.\n15 Tecla, V.A.\n16 Lullus, Archb.\n17 Ethelred, Ethelbright, MM.\n18 _Walter de Merton, B._\n19 Frideswide, V. and Ethbin, A.\n20\n21 Ursula, V.M.\n22 Mello, B.C.\n23\n24 Magloire, B.\n25 _John of Salisbury, B._\n26 Eata, B.\n27 Witta, B.\n28 _B. Alfred._\n29 Sigebert, K. Elfreda, A.\n30\n31 Foillan, B.M.\n\n\nNOVEMBER.\n\n 1\n 2\n 3 Wenefred, V.M. Rumwald, C.\n 4 Brinstan, B. Clarus, M.\n 5 Cungar, H.\n 6 Iltut, A. and Winoc, A.\n 7 Willebrord, B.\n 8 Willehad, B. Tyssilio, B.\n 9\n10 Justus, Archb.\n11\n12 Lebwin, C.\n13 Eadburga of Menstrey, A.\n14 Dubricius, B.C.\n15 Malo, B.\n16 Edmund, B.\n17 Hilda, A. Hugh, B.\n18\n19 Ermenburga, Q.\n20 Edmund, K.M. Humbert, B.M.\n21\n22 Paulinus, A.\n23 Daniel, B.C.\n24\n25\n26\n27\n28 Edwold, M.\n29\n30\n\nDECEMBER.\n\n 1\n 2 Weede, V.\n 3 Birinus, B. Lucius, K. and Sola, H.\n 4 Osmund, B.\n 5 Christina, V.\n 6\n 7\n 8 _John Peckham, Archb._\n 9\n10\n11 Elfleda, A.\n12 Corentin, B.C.\n13 Ethelburga, Q. wife of Edwin.\n14\n15\n16\n17\n18 Winebald, A.\n19\n20\n21 Eadburga, V.A.\n22\n23\n24\n25\n26 Tathai, C.\n27 Gerald, A.B.\n28\n29 Thomas, Archb. M.\n30\n31\n\nN.B. _St. William_, _Austin-Friar_, _Ingulphus_, and _Peter of Blois_\nhave not been introduced into the above Calendar, their days of death or\nfestival not being as yet ascertained.\n\n\n\n\nCHRONOLOGICAL ARRANGEMENT.\n\nSECOND CENTURY.\n\n182 Dec. 3. Lucius, K. of the British.\n     Jan. 1. Elvan, B. and Medwyne, C. envoys from St. Lucius to Rome.\n\nFOURTH CENTURY.\n\n300 Oct. 22. Mello, B. C. of Rouen.\n303 Ap. 23. George, M. under Dioclesian. Patron of England.\n    June 22. Alban and Amphibalus, MM.\n    July 1. Julius and Aaron, MM. of Caerleon.\n304 Jan. 2. Martyrs of Lichfield.\n    Feb. 7. Augulus, B.M. of London.\n328 Aug. 18. Helen, Empress, mother of Constantine.\n388 Sept. 17. Socrates and Stephen, M.M. perhaps in Wales.\n411 Jan. 3. Melorus, M. in Cornwall.\n\nFIFTH CENTURY.\n\n432 Sept. 16. Ninian, B. Apostle of the Southern Picts.\n429 July 31. Germanus, B. C. of Auxerre.\n     July 29. Lupus, B. C. of Troyes.\n502 May 1. Brioc, B. C., disciple of St. Germanus.\n490 Oct. 8. Ceneu, or Keyna, V., sister-in-law of Gundleus.\n492 Mar. 29. Gundleus, Hermit, in Wales.\n    July 3. Gunthiern, A., in Brittany.\n453 Oct. 21. Ursula, V.M. near Cologne.\nbef. 500 Dec. 12. Corentin, B.C. of Quimper.\n\nFIFTH AND SIXTH CENTURIES.\n\nWelsh Schools.\n\n444-522 Nov. 14. Dubricius, B.C., first Bishop of Llandaff.\n520 Nov. 22. Paulinus, A. of Whitland, tutor of St. David and St.\nTheliau.\n445-544 Mar. 1. David, Archb. of Menevia, afterwards called from him.\nabt. 500 Dec. 26. Tathai, C., master of St. Cadoc.\n480 Jan. 24. Cadoc, A., son of St. Gundleus, and nephew of St. Keyna.\nabt. 513 Nov. 6. Iltut, A., converted by St. Cadoc.\n545 Nov. 23. Daniel, B.C., first Bishop of Bangor.\naft. 559 Apr. 18. Paternus, B.A., pupil of St. Iltut.\n573 Mar. 12. Paul, B.C. of Leon, pupil of St. Iltut.\n    Mar. 2. Ioavan, B., pupil of St. Paul.\n599 July 28. Sampson, B., pupil of St. Iltut, cousin of St. Paul de\nLeon.\n565 Nov. 15. Malo, B., cousin of St. Sampson.\n575 Oct. 24. Magloire, B., cousin of St. Malo.\n583 Jan. 29. Gildas, A., pupil of St. Iltut.\n    July 1. Leonorus, B., pupil of St. Iltut.\n604 Feb. 9. Theliau, B. of Llandaff, pupil of St. Dubricius.\n560 July 2. Oudoceus, B., nephew to St. Theliau.\n500-580 Oct. 19. Ethbin, A., pupil of St. Sampson.\n516-601 Jan. 13. Kentigern, B. of Glasgow, founder of Monastery of\nElwy.\n\nSIXTH CENTURY.\n\n529 Mar. 3. Winwaloe, A., in Brittany.\n564 June 4. Petroc., A., in Cornwall.\n    July 16. Helier, Hermit, M., in Jersey.\n    June 27. John, C. of Moutier, in Tours.\n590 May 1. Asaph, B. of Elwy, afterwards called after him.\nabt. 600 June 6. Gudwall, B. of Aleth in Brittany.\n    Nov. 8. Tyssilio, B. of St. Asaph.\n\nSEVENTH CENTURY.\n\nPart I.\n\n600 June 10. Ivo, or Ivia, B. from Persia.\n596 Feb. 24. Luidhard, B. of Senlis, in France.\n616 Feb. 24. Ethelbert, K. of Kent.\n608 May 26. Augustine, Archb. of Canterbury, Apostle of England.\n624 Apr. 24. Mellitus, Archb. of Canterbury,  }\n619 Feb. 2. Laurence, Archb. of Canterbury,   } Companions of St.\n608 Jan. 6. Peter, A. at Canterbury,          } Augustine.\n627 Nov. 10. Justus, Archb. of Canterbury,    }\n653 Sept. 30. Honorius, Archb. of Canterbury, }\n662 July 15. Deus-dedit, Archb. of Canterbury.\n\nSEVENTH CENTURY.\n\nPart II.\n\n642 Oct. 29. Sigebert, K. of the East Angles.\n646 Mar. 8. Felix, B. of Dunwich, Apostle of the East Angles.\n650 Jan. 16. Fursey, A., preacher among the East Angles.\n680 May 1. Ultan, A., brother of St. Fursey.\n655 Oct. 31. Foillan, B.M., brother of St. Fursey, preacher in the\n                    Netherlands.\n680 June 17. Botulph, A., in Lincolnshire or Sussex.\n671 June 10. Ithamar, B. of Rochester.\n650 Dec. 3. Birinus, B. of Dorchester.\n705 July 7. Hedda, B. of Dorchester.\n717 Jan. 11. Egwin, B. of Worcester.\n\nSEVENTH CENTURY.\n\nPart III.\n\n690 Sept. 19. Theodore, Archb. of Canterbury.\n709 Jan. 9. Adrian, A. in Canterbury.\n709 May 25. Aldhelm, B. of Sherborne, pupil of St. Adrian.\n\nSEVENTH CENTURY.\n\nPart IV.\n\n630 Nov. 3. Winefred, V.M. in Wales.\n642 Feb. 4. Liephard, M.B., slain near Cambray.\n660 Jan. 14. Beuno, A., kinsman of St. Cadocus and St. Kentigern.\n673 Oct. 7. Osgitha, Q.V.M., in East Anglia during a Danish inroad.\n630 June 14. Elerius, A. in Wales.\n680 Jan. 27. Bathildis, Q., wife of Clovis II., king of France.\n687 July 24. Lewinna, V.M., put to death by the Saxons.\n700 July 18. Edberga and Edgitha, VV. of Aylesbury.\n\nSEVENTH CENTURY.\n\nPart V.\n\n644 Oct. 10. Paulinus, Archb. of York, companion of St. Augustine.\n633 Oct. 12. Edwin, K. of Northumberland.\n    Dec. 13. Ethelburga, Q., wife to St. Edwin.\n642 Aug. 5. Oswald, K.M., St. Edwin's nephew.\n651 Aug. 20. Oswin, K.M., cousin to St. Oswald.\n683 Aug. 23. Ebba, V.A. of Coldingham, half-sister to St. Oswin.\n689 Jan. 31. Adamnan, Mo. of Coldingham.\n\nSEVENTH CENTURY.\n\nPart VI.--Whitby.\n\n650 Sept. 6. Bega, V.A., foundress of St. Bee's, called after her.\n681 Nov. 17. Hilda, A. of Whitby, daughter of St. Edwin's nephew.\n716 Dec. 11. Elfleda, A. of Whitby, daughter of St. Oswin.\n680 Feb. 12. Cedmon, Mo. of Whitby.\n\nSEVENTH AND EIGHTH CENTURIES.\n\nPart I.\n\n    Sept. 21. Hereswida, Q., sister of Hilda, wife of Annas,\n                     who succeeded Egric, Sigebert's cousin.\n654 Jan. 10. Sethrida, V.A. of Faremoutier, St. Hereswida's\n                     daughter by a former marriage.\n693 Apr. 30. Erconwald, A.B., son of Annas and St. Hereswida, Bishop\n                     of London, Abbot of Chertsey, founder of Barking.\n677 Aug. 29. Sebbus, K., converted by St. Erconwald.\n    May 31. Jurmin, C., son of Annas and St. Hereswida.\n650 July 7. Edelburga, V.A. of Faremoutier, natural daughter\n                     of Annas.\n679 June 23. Ethelreda, Etheldreda, Etheltrudis, or Awdry, V.A.,\n                     daughter of Annas and St. Hereswida.\n    Mar. 17. Withburga, V., daughter of Annas and St. Hereswida.\n699 July 6. Sexburga, A., daughter of Annas and St. Hereswida.\n660 July 7. Ercongota, or Ertongata, V.A. of Faremoutier,\n                    daughter of St. Sexburga.\n699 Feb. 13. Ermenilda, Q.A., daughter of St. Sexburga,\n                    wife of Wulfere.\naft. 675 Feb. 3. Wereburga, V., daughter of St. Ermenilda and Wulfere,\n                    patron of Chester.\nabt. 680 Feb. 27. Alnoth, H.M., bailiff to St. Wereburga.\n640 Aug. 31. Eanswida, V.A., sister-in-law of St. Sexburga,\n                     granddaughter to St. Ethelbert.\n668 Oct. 17. Ethelred and Ethelbright, MM., nephews of St. Eanswida.\n    July 30. Ermenigitha, V., niece of St. Eanswida.\n676 Oct. 11. Edilberga, V.A. of Barking, daughter of Annas and St.\n             Hereswida.\n678 Jan. 26. Theoritgida, V., nun of Barking.\naft. 713 Aug. 31. Cuthberga, Q.V., of Barking, sister of St. Ina.\n700 Mar. 24. Hildelitha, A. of Barking.\n728 Feb. 6. Ina, K. Mo. of the West Saxons.\n740 May 24. Ethelburga, Q., wife of St. Ina, nun at Barking.\n\nSEVENTH AND EIGHTH CENTURIES.\n\nPart II.\n\n652 June 20. Idaburga, V.   }\n696 Mar. 6. Kineburga, Q.A. }\n701---- Kinneswitha, V.     } Daughters of King Penda.\n    ---- Chidestre, V.      }\n692 Dec. 2. Weeda, V.A.     }\n696 Mar. 6. Tibba, V., their kinswoman.\n    Nov. 3. Rumwald, C., grandson of Penda.\n680 Nov. 19. Ermenburga, Q., mother to the three following.\n    Feb. 23. Milburga, V.A. of Wenlock,  } Grand-daughters of\n    July 13. Mildreda, V.A. of Menstrey, } Penda.\n676 Jan. 17. Milwida, or Milgitha, V.    }\n750 Nov. 13. Eadburga, A. of Menstrey.\n\nSEVENTH AND EIGHTH CENTURIES.\n\nPart III.\n\n670 July 24. Wulfad and Ruffin, MM., sons of Wulfere,\n                     Penda's son, and of St. Erminilda.\n672 Mar. 2. Chad, B. of Lichfield.\n664 Jan. 7. Cedd, B. of London.\n688 Mar. 4. Owin, Mo. of Lichfield.\n689 Apr. 20. Cedwalla, K. of West Saxons.\n690-725 Nov. 5. Cungar, H. in Somersetshire.\n700 Feb. 10. Trumwin, B. of the Picts.\n705 Mar. 9. Bosa, Archb. of York.\n709 Apr. 24. Wilfrid, Archb. of York.\n721 May 7. John of Beverley, Archb. of York.\n743 Apr. 29. Wilfrid II., Archb. of York.\n733 May 22. Berethun, A. of Deirwood, disciple of St. John\n                     of Beverley.\n751 May 22. Winewald, A. of Deirwood.\n\nSEVENTH AND EIGHTH CENTURIES.\n\nPart IV.--Missions.\n\n729 Apr. 24. Egbert, C., master to Willebrord.\n693 Oct. 3. Ewalds (two), MM. in Westphalia.\n690-736 Nov. 7. Willebrord, B. of Utrecht, Apostle of Friesland.\n717 Mar. 1. Swibert, B., Apostle of Westphalia.\n727 Mar. 2. Willeik, C., successor to St. Swibert.\n705 June 25. Adelbert, C., grandson of St. Oswald, preacher\n                     in Holland.\n705 Aug. 14. Werenfrid, C., preacher in Friesland.\n720 June 21. Engelmund, A., preacher in Holland.\n730 Sept. 10. Otger, C. in Low Countries.\n732 July 15. Plechelm, B., preacher in Guelderland.\n750 May 2. Germanus, B.M. in the Netherlands.\n760 Nov. 12, Lebwin, C. in Overyssel, in Holland.\n760 July 14. Marchelm, C., companion of St. Lebwin, in Holland.\n697-755 June 5. Boniface, Archb., M. of Mentz, Apostle of Germany.\n712 Feb. 7. Richard, K. of the West Saxons.\n704-790 July 7. Willibald, B. of Aichstadt,  }}\n                     in Franconia,           }}\n730-760 Dec. 18. Winebald, A. of Heidenheim, } Children of}\n                     in Suabia,              } St. Richard.}\n779 Feb. 25. Walburga, V.A. of Heidenheim,   }}\naft. 755 Sept. 28. Lioba, V.A. of Bischorsheim, }\n750 Oct. 15. Tecla, V.A. of Kitzingen, in Franconia, } Companions\n                                                     } of St.\n788 Oct. 16. Lullus, Archb. of Mentz,                } Boniface.\nabt. 747 Aug. 13. Wigbert, A. of Fritzlar and Ortdorf, in }\n                     Germany,                             }\n755 Apr. 20. Adelhare, B.M. of Erford, in Franconia,      }\n780 Aug. 27. Sturmius, A. of Fulda,                       }\n786 Oct. 27. Witta, or Albuinus, B. of Buraberg, in       }\n                     Germany,                             }\n791 Nov. 8. Willehad, B. of Bremen, and Apostle of        }\n                  Saxony,                                 } Companions\n791 Oct. 14. Burchard, B. of Wurtzburg, in Franconia,     } of St.\n790 Dec 3. Sola, H., near Aichstadt, in Franconia,        } Boniface.\n775 July 1. Rumold, B., Patron of Mechlin.\n807 Apr. 30. Suibert, B. of Verden in Westphalia.\n\nSEVENTH AND EIGHTH CENTURIES.\n\nPart V.--Lindisfarne and Hexham.\n\n670 Jan. 23. Boisil, A. of Melros, in Scotland.\n651 Aug. 31. Aidan, A.B. of Lindisfarne.\n664 Feb. 16. Finan, B. of Lindisfarne.\n676 Aug. 8. Colman, B. of Lindisfarne.\n685 Oct. 26. Eata, B. of Hexham.\n687 Mar. 20. Cuthbert, B. of Lindisfarne.\n    Oct. 6. Ywy, C. disciple of St. Cuthbert.\n690 Mar. 20. Herbert, H. disciple of St. Cuthbert.\n698 May 6. Eadbert, B. of Lindisfarne.\n700 Mar. 23. \u00c6delwald, H. successor of St. Cuthbert, in his hermitage.\n740 Feb. 12. Ethelwold, B. of Lindisfarne.\n740 Nov. 20. Acca, B. of Hexham.\n764 Jan. 15. Ceolulph, K. Mo. of Lindisfarne.\n756 Mar. 6. Balther, H at Lindisfarne.\n     \" Bilfrid, H. Goldsmith at Lindisfarne.\n781 Sept. 7. Alchmund, B. of Hexham.\n789 Sept. 7. Tilhbert, B. of Hexham.\n\nSEVENTH AND EIGHTH CENTURIES.\n\nPart VI.--Wearmouth and Yarrow.\n\n703 Jan. 12. Benedict Biscop, A. of Wearmouth.\n685 Mar. 7. Easterwin, A. of Wearmouth.\n689 Aug. 22. Sigfrid, A. of Wearmouth.\n716 Sept. 25. Ceofrid, A. of Yarrow.\n734 May 27. Bede, Doctor, Mo. of Yarrow.\n804 May 19. _B. Alcuin, A. in France_.\n\nEIGHTH CENTURY.\n\n710 May 5. Ethelred, K. Mo. King of Mercia, Monk of Bardney.\n719 Jan. 8. Pega, V., sister of St. Guthlake.\n714 April 11. Guthlake, H. of Croyland.\n717 Nov. 6. Winoc, A. in Brittany.\n730 Jan. 9. Bertwald, Archb. of Canterbury.\n732 Dec. 27. Gerald, A.B. in Mayo.\n734 July 30. Tatwin, Archb. of Canterbury.\n750 Oct. 19. Frideswide, V. patron of Oxford.\n762 Aug. 26. Bregwin, Archb. of Canterbury.\n700-800 Feb. 8. Cuthman, C. of Stening in Sussex.\nbef. 800 Sept. 9. Bertelin, H. patron of Stafford.\n\nEIGHTH AND NINTH CENTURIES.\n\n793 May 20. Ethelbert, K.M. of the East Angles.\n834 Aug. 2. Etheldritha, or Alfreda, V., daughter of Offa, king of\n                Mercia, nun at Croyland.\n819 July 17. Kenelm, K.M. of Mercia.\n849 June 1. Wistan, K.M. of Mercia.\n838 July 18. Frederic, Archb. M. of Utrecht.\n894 Nov. 4. Clarus, M. in Normandy.\n\nNINTH CENTURY.\n\nPart I.--Danish Slaughters, &c.\n\n819 Mar. 19. Alcmund, M., son of Eldred, king of Northumbria, Patron\n                of Derby.\n870 Nov. 20. Edmund, K.M. of the East Angles.\n862 May 11. Fremund, H. M. nobleman of East Anglia.\n870 Nov. 20. Humbert, B.M. of Elmon in East Anglia.\n867 Aug. 25. Ebba, V.A.M. of Coldingham.\n\nNINTH CENTURY.\n\nPart II.\n\n862 July 2. Swithun, B. of Winton.\n870 July 5. Modwenna, V.A. of Pollesworth in Warwickshire.\n     Oct. 9. Lina, V. nun at Pollesworth.\n871 Mar. 15. Eadgith, V.A. of Pollesworth, sister of King Ethelwolf.\n900 Dec. 21. Eadburga, V.A. of Winton, daughter of King Ethelwolf.\n880 Nov. 28. Edwold, H., brother of St. Edmund.\n\nNINTH AND TENTH CENTURIES.\n\n883 July 31. Neot, H. in Cornwall.\n903 July 8. Grimbald, A. at Winton.\n900 Oct. 28. _B. Alfred, K._\n929 April 9. Frithstan, B. of Winton.\n934 Nov. 4. Brinstan, B. of Winton.\n\nTENTH CENTURY.\n\nPart I.\n\n960 June 15. Edburga, V., nun at Winton, granddaughter of Alfred.\n926 July 15. Editha, Q.V., nun of Tamworth, sister to Edburga.\n921 May 18. Algyfa, or Elgiva, Q., mother of Edgar.\n975 July 8. Edgar, K.\n978 Mar. 18. Edward, K.M. at Corfe Castle.\n984 Sept. 16. Edith, V., daughter of St. Edgar and St. Wulfhilda.\n990 Sept. 9. Wulfhilda, or Vulfrida, A. of Wilton.\n980 Mar. 30. Merwenna, V.A. of Romsey.\n990 Oct. 29. Elfreda, A. of Romsey.\n1016 Dec. 5. Christina of Romsey, V., sister of St. Margaret of\n                Scotland.\n\nTENTH CENTURY.\n\nPart II.\n\n961 July 4. Odo, Archb. of Canterbury, Benedictine Monk.\n960-992 Feb. 28. Oswald, Archb. of York, B. of Worcester, nephew to\n                    St. Odo.\n951-1012 Mar. 12. Elphege the Bald, B. of Winton.\n988 May 19. Dunstan, Archb. of Canterbury.\n973 Jan. 8. Wulsin, B. of Sherbourne.\n984 Aug. 1. Ethelwold, B. of Winton.\n1015 Jan. 22. Brithwold, B. of Winton.\n\nTENTH AND ELEVENTH CENTURIES.\n\nMissions.\n\n 950 Feb. 15. Sigfride, B., apostle of Sweden.\n1016 June 12. Eskill, B.M. in Sweden, kinsman of St. Sigfride.\n1028 Jan. 18. Wolfred, M. in Sweden.\n1050 July 15. David, A., Cluniac in Sweden.\n\nELEVENTH CENTURY.\n\n1012 April 19. Elphege, M. Archb. of Canterbury.\n1016 May 30. Walston, C. near Norwich.\n1053 Mar. 31. Alfwold, B. of Sherborne.\n1067 Sept. 2. William, B. of Roschid in Denmark.\n1066 Jan. 5. Edward, K.C.\n1099 Dec. 4. Osmund, B. of Salisbury.\n\nELEVENTH AND TWELFTH CENTURIES.\n\n1095 Jan. 19. Wulstan, B. of Worcester.\n1089 May 28. _Lanfranc, Archb. of Canterbury._\n1109 Apr. 21. Anselm, Doctor, Archb. of Canterbury.\n1170 Dec. 29. Thomas, Archb. M. of Canterbury.\n1200 Nov. 17. Hugh, B. of Lincoln, Carthusian Monk.\n\nTWELFTH CENTURY.\n\nPart I.\n\n1109 _Ingulphus, A. of Croyland._\n1117 Apr. 30. _B. Maud, Q._ Wife of Henry I.\n1124 Apr. 13. Caradoc, H. in South Wales.\n1127 Jan. 16. Henry, H. in Northumberland.\n1144 Mar. 25. William, M. of Norwich.\n1151 Jan. 19. Henry, M.B. of Upsal.\n1150 Aug. 13. Walter, A. of Fontenelle, in France.\n1154 June 8. William, Archb. of York.\n1170 May 21. Godric, H. in Durham.\n1180 Oct. 25. _John of Salisbury, B. of Chartres._\n1182 June 24. Bartholomew, C., monk at Durham.\n1189 Feb. 4. Gilbert, A. of Sempringham.\n1190 Aug. 21. Richard, B. of Andria.\n1200 _Peter de Blois, Archd. of Bath._\n\nTWELFTH CENTURY.\n\nPart II.--Cistertian Order.\n\n1134 Apr. 17. Stephen, A. of Citeaux.\n1139 June 7. Robert, A. of Newminster in Northumberland.\n1154 Feb. 20. Ulric, H. in Dorsetshire.\n1160 Aug. 3. Walthen, A. of Melrose.\n1166 Jan. 12. Aelred, A. of Rieval.\n\nTHIRTEENTH CENTURY.\n\nPart I.\n\n1228 July 9. _Stephen Langton, Archb. of Canterbury._\n1242 Nov. 16. Edmund, Archb. of Canterbury.\n1253 Apr. 3. Richard, B. of Chichester.\n1282 Oct. 2. Thomas, B. of Hereford.\n1294 Dec. 3. _John Peckham, Archb. of Canterbury._\n\nTHIRTEENTH CENTURY.\n\nPart II.--Orders of Friars.\n\n1217 June 17. John, Fr., Trinitarian.\n1232 Mar. 7. William, Fr., Franciscan.\n1240 Jan. 31. Serapion, Fr., M., Redemptionist.\n1265 May 16. Simon Stock, H., General of the Carmelites.\n1279 Sept. 11. _Robert Kilwardby, Archb. of Canterbury,\n                    Fr. Dominican._\n\nTHIRTEENTH CENTURY.\n\nPart III.\n\n1239 Mar. 14. Robert H. at Knaresboro.\n1241 Oct. 1. Roger, B. of London.\n1255 July 27. Hugh, M. of Lincoln.\n1295 Aug. 5. Thomas, Mo., M. of Dover.\n1254 Oct. 9. _Robert Grossteste, B. of Lincoln._\n1270 July 14. Boniface, Archb. of Canterbury.\n1278 Oct. 18. _Walter de Merton, B. of Rochester._\n\nFOURTEENTH CENTURY.\n\n1326 Oct. 5. _Stapleton, B. of Exeter._\n1327 Sept. 21. Edward K.\n1349 Sept. 29. _B. Richard, H. of Hampole._\n1345 Apr. 14. _Richard of Bury, B. of Lincoln._\n1349 Aug. 26. _Bradwardine, Archb. of Canterbury,\n                    the Doctor Profundus._\n1358 Sept. 2. Willam, Fr., Servite.\n1379 Oct. 10. John, C. of Bridlington.\n1324-1404 Sept. 27. _William of Wykeham, B. of Winton._\n1400 William, Fr. Austin.\n\n\nFIFTEENTH CENTURY.\n\n1471 May 22. _Henry, K. of England._\n1486 Aug. 11. _William of Wanefleet, B. of Winton._\n1509 June 29. _Margaret, Countess of Richmond._\n1528 Sept. 14. _Richard Fox, B. of Winton._\n\n\n\n\nNOTE E. ON PAGE 227.\n\nTHE ANGLICAN CHURCH.\n\n\nI have been bringing out my mind in this Volume on every subject which\nhas come before me; and therefore I am bound to state plainly what I\nfeel and have felt, since I was a Catholic, about the Anglican Church. I\nsaid, in a former page, that, on my conversion, I was not conscious of\nany change in me of thought or feeling, as regards matters of doctrine;\nthis, however, was not the case as regards some matters of fact, and,\nunwilling as I am to give offence to religious Anglicans, I am bound to\nconfess that I felt a great change in my view of the Church of England.\nI cannot tell how soon there came on me,--but very soon,--an extreme\nastonishment that I had ever imagined it to be a portion of the Catholic\nChurch. For the first time, I looked at it from without, and (as I\nshould myself say) saw it as it was. Forthwith I could not get myself to\nsee in it any thing else, than what I had so long fearfully suspected,\nfrom as far back as 1836,--a mere national institution. As if my eyes\nwere suddenly opened, so I saw it--spontaneously, apart from any\ndefinite act of reason or any argument; and so I have seen it ever\nsince. I suppose, the main cause of this lay in the contrast which was\npresented to me by the Catholic Church. Then I recognized at once a\nreality which was quite a new thing with me. Then I was sensible that I\nwas not making for myself a Church by an effort of thought; I needed not\nto make an act of faith in her; I had not painfully to force myself into\na position, but my mind fell back upon itself in relaxation and in\npeace, and I gazed at her almost passively as a great objective fact. I\nlooked at her;--at her rites, her ceremonial, and her precepts; and I\nsaid, \"This _is_ a religion;\" and then, when I looked back upon the poor\nAnglican Church, for which I had laboured so hard, and upon all that\nappertained to it, and thought of our various attempts to dress it up\ndoctrinally and esthetically, it seemed to me to be the veriest of\nnonentities.\n\nVanity of vanities, all is vanity! How can I make a record of what\npassed within me, without seeming to be satirical? But I speak plain,\nserious words. As people call me credulous for acknowledging Catholic\nclaims, so they call me satirical for disowning Anglican pretensions; to\nthem it _is_ credulity, to them it _is_ satire; but it is not so in me.\nWhat they think exaggeration, I think truth. I am not speaking of the\nAnglican Church with any disdain, though to them I seem contemptuous. To\nthem of course it is \"Aut C\u00e6sar aut nullus,\" but not to me. It may be a\ngreat creation, though it be not divine, and this is how I judge of it.\nMen, who abjure the divine right of kings, would be very indignant, if\non that account they were considered disloyal. And so I recognize in the\nAnglican Church a time-honoured institution, of noble historical\nmemories, a monument of ancient wisdom, a momentous arm of political\nstrength, a great national organ, a source of vast popular advantage,\nand, to a certain point, a witness and teacher of religious truth. I do\nnot think 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 have\ntaken any other view than this; but that it is something sacred, that it\nis an oracle of revealed doctrine, that it can claim a share in St.\nIgnatius or St. Cyprian, that it can take the rank, contest the\nteaching, and stop the path of the Church of St. Peter, that it can call\nitself \"the Bride of the Lamb,\" this is the view of it which simply\ndisappeared from my mind on my conversion, and which it would be almost\na miracle to reproduce. \"I went by, and lo! it was gone; I sought it,\nbut its place could no where be found,\" and nothing can bring it back to\nme. And, as to its possession of an episcopal succession from the time\nof the Apostles, well, it may have it, and, if the Holy See ever so\ndecide, I will believe it, as being the decision of a higher judgment\nthan my own; but, for myself, I must have St. Philip's gift, who saw the\nsacerdotal character on the forehead of a gaily-attired youngster,\nbefore I can by my own wit acquiesce in it, for antiquarian arguments\nare altogether unequal to the urgency of visible facts. Why is it that I\nmust pain dear friends by saying so, and kindle a sort of resentment\nagainst me in the kindest of hearts? but I must, though to do it be not\nonly a grief to me, but most impolitic at the moment. Any how, this is\nmy mind; and, if to have it, if to have betrayed it, before now,\ninvoluntarily by my words or my deeds, if on a fitting occasion, as now,\nto have avowed it, if all this be a proof of the justice of the charge\nbrought against me by my accuser of having \"turned round upon my\nMother-Church with contumely and slander,\" in this sense, but in no\nother sense, do I plead guilty to it without a word in extenuation.\n\nIn no other sense surely; the Church of England has been the instrument\nof Providence in conferring great benefits on me;--had I been born in\nDissent, perhaps I should never have been baptized; had I been born an\nEnglish Presbyterian, perhaps I should never have known our Lord's\ndivinity; had I not come to Oxford, perhaps I never should have heard of\nthe visible Church, or of Tradition, or other Catholic doctrines. And as\nI have received so much good from the Anglican Establishment itself, can\nI have the heart or rather the want of charity, considering that it does\nfor so many others, what it has done for me, to wish to see it\noverthrown? I have no such wish while it is what it is, and while we are\nso small a body. Not for its own sake, but for the sake of the many\ncongregations to which it ministers, I will do nothing against it. While\nCatholics are so weak in England, it is doing our work; and, though it\ndoes us harm in a measure, at present the balance is in our favour. What\nour duty would be at another time and in other circumstances, supposing,\nfor instance, the Establishment lost its dogmatic faith, or at least did\nnot preach it, is another matter altogether. In secular history we read\nof hostile nations having long truces, and renewing them from time to\ntime, and that seems to be the position which the Catholic Church may\nfairly take up at present in relation to the Anglican Establishment.\n\nDoubtless the National Church has hitherto been a serviceable breakwater\nagainst doctrinal errors, more fundamental than its own. How long this\nwill last in the years now before us, it is impossible to say, for the\nNation drags down its Church to its own level; but still the National\nChurch has the same sort of influence over the Nation that a periodical\nhas upon the party which it represents, and my own idea of a Catholic's\nfitting attitude towards the National Church in this its supreme hour,\nis that of assisting and sustaining it, if it be in our power, in the\ninterest of dogmatic truth. I should wish to avoid every thing (except\nindeed under the direct call of duty, and this is a material exception,)\nwhich went to weaken its hold upon the public mind, or to unsettle its\nestablishment, or to embarrass and lessen its maintenance of those great\nChristian and Catholic principles and doctrines which it has up to this\ntime successfully preached.\n\n\n\n\nNOTE F. ON PAGE 269.\n\nTHE ECONOMY.\n\n\nFor the Economy, considered as a rule of practice, I shall refer to what\nI wrote upon it in 1830-32, in my History of the Arians. I have shown\nabove, pp. 26, 27, that the doctrine in question had in the early Church\na large signification, when applied to the divine ordinances: it also\nhad a definite application to the duties of Christians, whether clergy\nor laity, in preaching, in instructing or catechizing, or in ordinary\nintercourse with the world around them; and in this aspect I have here\nto consider it.\n\nAs Almighty God did not all at once introduce the Gospel to the world,\nand thereby gradually prepared men for its profitable reception, so,\naccording to the doctrine of the early Church, it was a duty, for the\nsake of the heathen among whom they lived, to observe a great reserve\nand caution in communicating to them the knowledge of \"the whole counsel\nof God.\" This cautious dispensation of the truth, after the manner of a\ndiscreet and vigilant steward, is denoted by the word \"economy.\" It is a\nmode of acting which comes under the head of Prudence, one of the four\nCardinal Virtues.\n\nThe principle of the Economy is this; that out of various courses, in\nreligious conduct or statement, all and each _allowable antecedently and\nin themselves_, that ought to be taken which is most expedient and most\nsuitable at the time for the object in hand.\n\nInstances of its application and exercise in Scripture are such as the\nfollowing:--1. Divine Providence did but gradually impart to the world\nin 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 hardness\nof their hearts.\" 2. He has allowed Himself to be represented as having\neyes, ears, and hands, as having wrath, jealousy, grief, and repentance.\n3. In like manner, our Lord spoke harshly to the Syro-Ph[oe]nician\nwoman, whose daughter He was about to heal, and made as if He would go\nfurther, when the two disciples had come to their journey's end. 4. Thus\ntoo Joseph \"made himself strange to his brethren,\" and Elisha kept\nsilence on request of Naaman to bow in the house of Rimmon. 5. Thus St.\nPaul circumcised Timothy, while he cried out \"Circumcision availeth\nnot.\"\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. But\nto call them _economical_ is to give a fine name to what occurs every\nday, independent of any knowledge of the _doctrine_ of the Economy. It\nis the abuse of a rule which nature suggests to every one. Every one\nlooks out for the \"mollia tempora fandi,\" and for \"mollia verba\" too.\n\nHaving thus explained what is meant by the Economy as a rule of social\nintercourse between men of different religious, or, again, political, or\nsocial views, next I will go on to state what I said in the Arians.\n\nI say in that Volume first, that our Lord has given us the _principle_\nin His own words,--\"Cast not your pearls before swine;\" and that He\nexemplified it in His teaching by parables; that St. Paul expressly\ndistinguishes between the milk which is necessary to one set of men, and\nthe strong meat which is allowed to others, and that, in two Epistles. I\nsay, that the Apostles in the Acts observe the same rule in their\nspeeches, for it is a fact, that they do not preach the high doctrines\nof Christianity, but only \"Jesus and the Resurrection\" or \"repentance\nand faith.\" I also say, that this is the very reason that the Fathers\nassign for the silence of various writers in the first centuries on the\nsubject of our Lord's divinity. I also speak of the catechetical system\npractised in the early Church, and the _disciplina arcani_ as regards\nthe doctrine of the Holy Trinity, to which Bingham bears witness; also\nof the defence of this rule by Basil, Cyril of Jerusalem, Chrysostom,\nand Theodoret.\n\nBut next the question may be asked, whether I have said any thing in my\nVolume _to guard_ the doctrine, thus laid down, from the abuse to which\nit is obviously exposed: and my answer is easy. Of course, had I had any\nidea that I should have been exposed to such hostile misrepresentations,\nas it has been my lot to undergo on the subject, I should have made more\ndirect avowals than I have done of my sense of the gravity and the\ndanger of that abuse. Since I could not foresee when I wrote, that I\nshould have been wantonly slandered, I only wonder that I have\nanticipated the charge as fully as will be seen in the following\nextracts.\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 but\nthe _filling up of a bare but correct outline_,\" p. 58, and I contrast\nthis with the conduct of the Manich\u00e6ans \"who represented the initiatory\ndiscipline as founded on a _fiction_ or hypothesis, which was to be\nforgotten by the learner as he made progress in the _real_ doctrine of\nthe Gospel.\" (2) As to allegorizing, I say that the Alexandrians erred,\nwhenever and as far as they proceeded \"to _obscure_ the primary meaning\nof Scripture, and to _weaken the force of historical facts_ and express\ndeclarations,\" p. 69. (3) And that they were \"more open to _censure_,\"\nwhen, on being \"_urged by objections_ to various passages in the history\nof the Old Testament, as derogatory to the divine perfections or to the\nJewish Saints, they had _recourse to an allegorical explanation by way\nof answer_,\" p. 71. (4) I add, \"_It is impossible to defend such a\nprocedure_, which seems to imply a _want of faith_ in those who had\nrecourse to it;\" for \"God has given us _rules of right and wrong_\",\n_ibid._ (5) Again, I say,--\"The _abuse of the Economy_ in _the hands of\nunscrupulous reasoners_, is obvious. _Even the honest_ controversialist\nor teacher will find it very difficult to represent, _without\nmisrepresenting_, what it is yet his duty to present to his hearers with\ncaution or reserve. Here the obvious rule to guide our practice is, to\nbe careful 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 did\nor did not _practically mislead their opponents_,\" p. 80. (7) I proceed,\n\"It is so difficult to hit the mark in these perplexing cases, that it\nis not wonderful, should these or other Fathers have failed at times,\nand said more or less than was proper,\" _ibid._\n\nThe Principle of the Economy is familiarly acted on among us every day.\nWhen we would persuade others, we do not begin by treading on their\ntoes. Men would be thought rude who introduced their own religious\nnotions into mixed society, and were devotional in a drawing-room. Have\nwe never thought lawyers tiresome who did _not_ observe this polite\nrule, who came down for the assizes and talked law all through dinner?\nDoes the same argument tell in the House of Commons, on the hustings,\nand at Exeter Hall? Is an educated gentleman never worsted at an\nelection by the tone and arguments of some clever fellow, who, whatever\nhis shortcomings in other respects, understands the common people?\n\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, when\nyou are asked; that the wisest economy is to have no management; that\nthe best prudence is not to be a coward; that the most damaging folly is\nto be found out shuffling; and that the first of virtues is to \"tell\ntruth, and shame the devil.\"\n\n\n\n\nNOTE G. ON PAGE 279.\n\nLYING AND EQUIVOCATION.\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, when it is a duty to make 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 that\nsuch words are not a lie, when there is a \"justa causa,\" as killing is\nnot 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 justice,\nand therefore, when we have no duty of justice to tell truth to another,\nit is no sin not to do so. Hence we may say the thing that is not, to\nchildren, to madmen, to men who ask impertinent questions, to those whom\nwe hope to benefit by misleading.\n\nAnother ground, taken in defending certain untruths, _ex just\u00e2 caus\u00e2_,\nas if not lies, is, that veracity is for the sake of society, and that,\nif in no case whatever 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 words;\nand it is defended on the theory that to lie is to use words in a sense\nwhich they will not bear. But an equivocator uses them in a received\nsense, though there is another received sense, and therefore, according\nto this definition, he does not lie.\n\nOthers say that all equivocations are, after all, a kind of\nlying,--faint lies or awkward lies, but still lies; and some of these\ndisputants infer, that therefore we must not equivocate, and others that\nequivocation is but a half-measure, and that it is better to say at once\nthat in certain cases untruths are not lies.\n\nOthers will try to distinguish between evasions and equivocations; but\nthough there are evasions which are clearly not equivocations, yet it is\nvery difficult scientifically to draw the line between the one and the\nother.\n\nTo these must be added the unscientific way of dealing with lies:--viz.\nthat on a great or cruel occasion a man cannot help telling a lie, and\nhe would not be a man, did he not tell it, but still it is very wrong,\nand he ought not to do it, and he must trust that the sin will be\nforgiven him, though he goes about to commit it ever so deliberately,\nand is sure to commit it again under similar circumstances. It is a\nnecessary frailty, and had better not be thought about before it is\nincurred, and not thought of again, after it is well over. This view\ncannot for a moment be defended, but, I suppose, it is very common.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nI think the historical course of thought upon the matter has been this:\nthe Greek Fathers thought that, when there was a _justa causa_, an\nuntruth need not be a lie. St. Augustine took another view, though with\ngreat misgiving; and, whether he is rightly interpreted or not, is the\ndoctor of the great and common view that all untruths are lies, and that\nthere can be _no_ just cause of untruth. In these later times, this\ndoctrine has been found difficult to work, and it has been largely\ntaught that, though all untruths are lies, yet that certain\nequivocations, when there is a just cause, are not untruths.\n\nFurther, there have been and all along through these later ages, other\nschools, running parallel with the above mentioned, one of which says\nthat equivocations, &c. after all _are_ lies, and another which says\nthat there are untruths which are not lies.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnd now as to the \"just cause,\" which is the condition, _sine qu\u00e2 non_.\nThe Greek Fathers make it such as these, self-defence, charity, zeal for\nGod'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 on such occasions, of their sinfulness. He\nmentions defence of life and of honour, and the safe custody of a\nsecret. Also the great Anglican writers, who have followed the Greek\nFathers, in defending untruths when there is the \"just cause,\" consider\nthat \"just cause\" to be such as the preservation of life and property,\ndefence of law, the good of others. Moreover, their moral rights, e.g.\ndefence against the inquisitive, &c.\n\nSt. Alfonso, I consider, would take the same view of the \"justa causa\"\nas the Anglican divines; he speaks of it as \"quicunque finis _honestus_,\nad servanda bona spiritui vel corpori utilia;\" which is very much the\nview which they take of it, judging by the instances which 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\nM\u00e9langes Th\u00e9ologiques (Li\u00e8ge, 1852-3, p. 453) quotes Lessius: \"Si absque\njusta causa fiat, est abusio orationis contra virtutem veritatis, et\ncivilem consuetudinem, etsi proprie non sit mendacium.\" That is, the\nvirtue of truth, and the civil custom, are the _measure_ of the just\ncause. And so Voit, \"If a man has used a reservation (restrictione non\npur\u00e8 mentali) without a _grave_ cause, he has sinned gravely.\" And so\nthe author himself, from whom I quote, and who defends the Patristic and\nAnglican doctrine that there _are_ untruths which are not lies, says,\n\"Under the name of mental reservation theologians authorize many lies,\n_when there is for them a grave reason_ and proportionate,\" i.e. to\ntheir character.--p. 459. And so St. Alfonso, in another Treatise,\nquotes St. Thomas to the effect, that if from one cause two immediate\neffects follow, and, if the good effect of that cause is _equal in\nvalue_ to the bad effect (bonus _\u00e6quivalet_ malo), then nothing hinders\nthe speaker's intending the good and only permitting the evil. From\nwhich it will follow that, since the evil to society from lying is very\ngreat, the just cause which is to make it allowable, must be very great\nalso. And so Kenrick: \"It is confessed by all Catholics that, in the\ncommon intercourse of life, all ambiguity of language is to be avoided;\nbut it is debated whether such ambiguity is _ever_ lawful. Most\ntheologians answer in the affirmative, supposing a _grave cause_ urges,\nand the [true] mind of the speaker can be collected from the adjuncts,\nthough in fact it be not collected.\"\n\nHowever, there are cases, I have already said, of another kind, in which\nAnglican authors would think a lie allowable; such as when a question is\n_impertinent_. Of such a case Walter Scott, if I mistake not, supplied a\nvery distinct example, in his denying so long the authorship of his\nnovels.\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, by\nconsequence, that a given individual, such as I am, _cannot_ agree with\nall of them, and has a full right to follow which of them he will. The\nfreedom of the Schools, indeed, is one of those rights of reason, which\nthe Church is too wise really to interfere with. And this applies not to\nmoral questions only, but to dogmatic also.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt is supposed by Protestants that, because St. Alfonso's writings have\nhad such high commendation bestowed upon them by authority, therefore\nthey have been invested with a quasi-infallibility. This has arisen in\ngood measure from Protestants not knowing the force of theological\nterms. The words to which they refer are the authoritative decision that\n\"nothing in his works has been found _worthy of censure_,\" \"censur\u00e2\ndignum;\" but this does not lead to the conclusions which have been drawn\nfrom it. Those words occur in a legal document, and cannot be\ninterpreted except in a legal sense. In the first place, the sentence is\nnegative; nothing in St. Alfonso's writings is positively approved; and,\nsecondly, it is not said that there are no faults in what he has\nwritten, but nothing which comes under the ecclesiastical _censura_,\nwhich is something very definite. To take and interpret them, in the way\ncommonly adopted in England, is the same mistake, as if one were to take\nthe word \"Apologia\" in the English sense of apology, or \"Infant\" in law\nto mean a little child.\n\n1. Now first as to the meaning of the above form of words viewed as a\nproposition. When a question on the subject was asked of the fitting\nauthorities at Rome by the Archbishop of Besan\u00e7on, the answer returned\nto him contained this condition, viz. that those words were to be\ninterpreted, \"with due regard to the mind of the Holy See concerning the\napprobation of writings of the servants of God, ad effectum\nCanonizationis.\" This is intended to prevent any Catholic taking the\nwords about St. Alfonso's works in too large a sense. Before a Saint is\ncanonized, his works are examined, and a judgment pronounced upon them.\nPope Benedict XIV. says, \"The _end_ or _scope_ of this judgment is, that\nit may appear, whether the doctrine of the servant of God, which he has\nbrought out in his writings, is free from any soever _theological\ncensure_.\" And he remarks in addition, \"It never can be said that the\ndoctrine of a servant of God is _approved_ by the Holy See, but at most\nit can [only] be said that it is not disapproved (non reprobatam) in\ncase that the Revisers had reported that there is nothing found by them\nin his works, which is adverse to the decrees of Urban VIII., and that\nthe judgment of the Revisers has been approved by the sacred\nCongregation, and confirmed by the Supreme Pontiff.\" The Decree of Urban\nVIII. here referred to is, \"Let works be examined, whether they contain\nerrors against faith or good morals (bonos mores), or any new doctrine,\nor a doctrine foreign and alien to the common sense and custom of the\nChurch.\" The author from whom I quote this (M. Vandenbroeck, of the\ndiocese of Malines) observes, \"It is therefore clear, that the\napprobation of the works of the Holy Bishop touches not the truth of\nevery proposition, adds nothing to them, nor even gives them by\nconsequence a degree of intrinsic probability.\" He adds that it gives\nSt. Alfonso's theology an extrinsic probability, from the fact that, in\nthe judgment of the Holy See, no proposition deserves to receive a\ncensure; but that \"that probability will cease nevertheless in a\nparticular case, for any one who should be convinced, whether by evident\narguments, or by a decree of the Holy See, or otherwise, that the\ndoctrine of the Saint deviates from the truth.\" He adds, \"From the fact\nthat the approbation of the works of St. Alfonso does not decide the\ntruth of each proposition, it follows, as Benedict XIV. has remarked,\nthat we may combat the doctrine which they contain; only, since a\ncanonized saint is in question, who is honoured by a solemn _culte_ in\nthe Church, 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, \"Out\nof propositions which are to be noted with theological censure, some are\nheretical, some erroneous, some close upon error, some savouring of\nheresy,\" and so on; and each of these terms has its own definite\nmeaning. Thus by \"erroneous\" is meant, according to Viva, a proposition\nwhich is not _immediately_ opposed to a revealed proposition, but only\nto a theological _conclusion_ drawn from premisses which are _de fide_;\n\"savouring of heresy is\" a proposition, which is opposed to a\ntheological conclusion not evidently drawn from premisses which are _de\nfide_, but most probably and according to the common mode of\ntheologizing;--and so with the rest. Therefore when it was said by the\nRevisers of St. Alfonso's works that they were not \"worthy of\n_censure_,\" it was only meant that they did not fall under these\nparticular Notes.\n\nBut the answer from Rome to the Archbishop of Besan\u00e7on went further than\nthis; it actually took pains to declare that any one who pleased might\nfollow other theologians instead of St. Alfonso. After saying that no\nPriest was to be interfered with who followed St. Alfonso in the\nConfessional, it added, \"This is said, however, without on that account\njudging that they are reprehended who follow opinions handed down by\nother 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 for an\ninstant be supposed that we were bound to every one of his opinions,\nwhen he did not feel himself bound to them in his own person. And, what\nis more to the purpose still, there are opinions, or some opinion, of\nhis which actually have been proscribed by the Church since, and cannot\nnow be put forward or used. I do not pretend to be a well-read\ntheologian myself, but I say this on the authority of a theological\nprofessor of Breda, quoted in the M\u00e9langes Th\u00e9ol. for 1850-1. He says:\n\"It may happen, that, in the course of time, errors may be found in the\nworks of St. Alfonso and be proscribed by the Church, _a thing which in\nfact has already occurred_.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\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 under the protection of such authors as Cardinal Gerdil,\nNatalis Alexander, Contenson, Concina, and others. Under the protection\nof these authorities, I say as follows:--\n\nCasuistry is a noble science, but it is one to which I am led, neither\nby my abilities nor my turn of mind. Independently, then, of the\ndifficulties of the subject, and the necessity, before forming an\nopinion, of knowing more of the arguments of theologians upon it than I\ndo, I am very unwilling to say a word here on the subject of Lying and\nEquivocation. But I consider myself bound to speak; and therefore, in\nthis strait, I can do nothing better, even for my own relief, than\nsubmit myself, and what I shall say, to the judgment of the Church, and\nto the consent, so far as in this matter there be a consent, of the\nSchola 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 as\nthe custody of a secret, or of a personal nature as to repel an\nimpertinent inquirer, or a matter too trivial to provoke question, as in\ndealing 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 to\nthe words _material_ and _formal_. \"Thou shalt not kill;\" _murder_ is\nthe _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, &c.,\nwhich constitutes the formal sin. So, again, an executioner commits the\nmaterial act, but not that formal killing which is a breach of the\ncommandment. So a man, who, simply to save himself from starving, takes\na loaf which is not his own, commits only the material, not the formal\nact of stealing, that is, he does not commit a sin. And so a baptized\nChristian, external to the Church, who is in invincible ignorance, is a\nmaterial heretic, and not a formal. And in like manner, if to say the\nthing which is not be in special cases lawful, it may be called a\n_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 occasion, or has a\n_just cause_, is by a material lie.\n\nThe second mode is by an _\u00e6quivocatio_, which is not equivalent to the\nEnglish word \"equivocation,\" but means sometimes a _play on words_,\nsometimes an _evasion_: we must take these two modes of misleading\nseparately.\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 he\ndoes so on the ground that lying is _not_ a sin against justice, that\nis, against our neighbour, but a sin against God. God has made words the\nsigns of ideas, and therefore if a word denotes two ideas, we are at\nliberty to use it in either of its senses: but I think I must be\nincorrect in some respect in supposing that the Saint does not recognize\na lie as an injustice, because the Catechism of the Council, as I have\nquoted it at p. 281, says, \"Vanitate et mendacio fides ac veritas\ntolluntur, arctissima vincula _societatis human\u00e6_; quibus sublatis,\nsequitur summa vit\u00e6 _confusio_, ut _homines nihil a d\u00e6monibus differre\nvideantur_.\"\n\n3. _Evasion_;--when, for instance, the speaker diverts the attention of\nthe hearer to another subject; suggests an irrelevant fact or makes a\nremark, which confuses him and gives him something to think about;\nthrows dust into his eyes; states some truth, from which he is quite\nsure his hearer will draw an illogical and untrue conclusion, and the\nlike.\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. On\nthis he ordered his men to turn his boat round, and ran right to meet\nthe satellites of Julian. They asked him, \"Have you seen Athanasius?\"\nand he told his followers to answer, \"Yes, he is close to you.\" _They_\nwent on their course as if they were sure to come up to him, while _he_\nran back into Alexandria, and there lay hid till the end of the\npersecution.\n\nI gave another instance above, in reference to a doctrine of religion.\nThe early Christians did their best to conceal their Creed on account of\nthe misconceptions of the heathen about it. Were the question asked of\nthem, \"Do you worship a Trinity?\" and did they answer, \"We worship one\nGod, and none else;\" the inquirer might, or would, infer that they did\nnot acknowledge the Trinity of Divine Persons.\n\nIt is very difficult to draw the line between these evasions and what\nare commonly called in English _equivocations_; and of this difficulty,\nagain, I think, the scenes in the House of Commons supply us with\nillustrations.\n\n4. The fourth method is _silence_. For instance, not giving the _whole_\ntruth in a court of law. If St. Alban, after dressing himself in the\nPriest's clothes, and being taken before the persecutor, had been able\nto pass off for his friend, and so gone to martyrdom without being\ndiscovered; and had he in the course of examination answered all\nquestions truly, but not given the whole truth, the most important\ntruth, that he was the wrong person, he would have come very near to\ntelling a lie, for a half-truth is often a falsehood. And his defence\nmust have been the _justa causa_, viz. either that he might in charity\nor for religion's sake save a priest, or again that the judge had no\nright to interrogate him on the subject.\n\nNow, of these four modes of misleading others by the tongue, when there\nis a _justa causa_ (supposing there can be such),--(1) a material lie,\nthat is, an untruth which is not a lie, (2) an equivocation, (3) an\nevasion, and (4) 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, if\nall killing be not murder, nor all taking from another stealing, why\nmust 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 or\nby Milton; at the same time, I never have acted, and I think, when it\ncame to the point, I never should act upon such a theory myself, except\nin one case, stated below. This I say for the benefit of those who speak\nhardly of Catholic theologians, on the ground that they admit text-books\nwhich allow of equivocation. They are asked, how can we trust you, when\nsuch are your views? but such views, as I already have said, need not\nhave any thing to do with their own practice, merely from the\ncircumstance that they are contained in their text-books. A theologian\ndraws out a system; he does it partly as a scientific speculation: but\nmuch more for the sake of others. He is lax for the sake of others, not\nof himself. His own standard of action is much higher than that which he\nimposes upon men in general. One special reason why religious men, after\ndrawing out a theory, are unwilling to act upon it themselves, is this:\nthat they practically acknowledge a broad distinction between their\nreason and their conscience; and that they feel the latter to be the\nsafer guide, though the former may be the clearer, nay even though it be\nthe truer. They would rather be in error with the sanction of their\nconscience, than be right with the mere judgment of their reason. And\nagain here is this more tangible difficulty in the case of exceptions to\nthe rule of Veracity, that so very little external help is given us in\ndrawing the line, as to when untruths are allowable and when not;\nwhereas that sort of killing which is not murder, is most definitely\nmarked off by legal enactments, so that it cannot possibly be mistaken\nfor such killing as _is_ murder. On the other hand the cases of\nexemption from the rule of Veracity are left to the private judgment of\nthe individual, and he may easily be led on from acts which are\nallowable to acts which are not. Now this remark does _not_ apply to\nsuch acts as are related in Scripture, as being done by a particular\ninspiration, for in such cases there _is_ a command. If I had my own\nway, I would oblige society, that is, its great men, its lawyers, its\ndivines, its literature, publicly to acknowledge as such, those\ninstances of untruth which are not lies, as for instance untruths in\nwar; and then there could be no perplexity to the individual Catholic,\nfor he would not be taking the law into his own hands.\n\nThirdly, as to playing upon words, or equivocation, I suppose it is from\nthe English habit, but, without meaning any disrespect to a great Saint,\nor wishing to set myself up, or taking my conscience for more than it is\nworth, I can only say as a fact, that I admit it as little as the rest\nof my countrymen: and, without any reference to the right and the wrong\nof the matter, of this I am sure, that, if there is one thing more than\nanother which prejudices Englishmen against the Catholic Church, it is\nthe doctrine of great authorities on the subject of equivocation. For\nmyself, I can fancy myself thinking it was allowable in extreme cases\nfor me to lie, but never to equivocate. Luther said, \"Pecca fortiter.\" I\nanathematize his formal sentiment, but there is a truth in it, when\nspoken of material acts.\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 its\nuse; and that, the cleverer a man is, the more likely he is to pass the\nline of Christian duty.\n\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 for\nthem. And so of equivocation: it is easy of imitation, and we ourselves\nshall 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 gaining\nhis father's blessing, on the ground that the blessing was divinely\npledged to him already, that it was his, and that his father and brother\nwere acting at once against his own rights and the divine will, it does\nnot follow from this that such conduct is a pattern to us, who have no\nsupernatural means of determining _when_ an untruth becomes a\n_material_, and not a _formal_ lie. It seems to me very dangerous, be it\never allowable or not, to lie or equivocate in order to preserve some\ngreat temporal or spiritual benefit; nor does St. Alfonso here say any\nthing to the contrary, for he is not discussing the question of danger\nor 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 to\nhim, his first act would have been to knock the man down, and to call\nout for the police; and next, if he was worsted in the conflict, he\nwould not have given the ruffian the information he asked, at whatever\nrisk to himself. I think he would have let himself be killed first. I do\nnot 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 of\nmy position; but, supposing I was driven up into a corner, I think I\nshould have a right to say an untruth, or that, under such\ncircumstances, a lie would be _material_, but it is almost an impossible\ncase, for the law would defend me. In like manner, as a priest, I should\nthink it lawful to speak as if I knew nothing of what passed in\nconfession. And I think in these cases, I do in fact possess that\nguarantee, that I am not going by private judgment, which just now I\ndemanded; for society would bear me out, whether as a lawyer or as a\npriest, in holding that I had a duty to my client or penitent, such,\nthat an untruth in the matter was not a lie. A common type of this\npermissible denial, be it _material lie_ or _evasion_, is at the moment\nsupplied to me:--an artist asked a Prime Minister, who was sitting to\nhim, \"What news, my Lord, from France?\" He answered, \"_I do not know_; I\nhave not read the Papers.\"\n\n5. A more difficult question is, when to accept confidence has not been\na duty. Supposing a man wishes to keep the secret that he is the author\nof a book, and he is plainly asked on the subject. Here I should ask the\nprevious question, whether any one has a right to publish what he dare\nnot avow. It requires to have traced the bearings and results of such a\nprinciple, before being sure of it; but certainly, for myself, I am no\nfriend of strictly anonymous writing. Next, supposing another has\nconfided to you the secret of his authorship:--there are persons who\nwould have no scruple at all in giving a denial to impertinent questions\nasked them on the subject. I have heard a great man in his day at\nOxford, warmly contend, as if he could not enter into any other view of\nthe matter, that, if he had been trusted by a friend with the secret of\nhis being author of a certain book, and he were asked by a third person,\nif his friend was not (as he really was) the author of it, he ought,\nwithout any scruple and distinctly, to answer that he did not know. He\nhad an existing duty towards the author; he had none towards his\ninquirer. The author had a claim on him; an impertinent questioner had\nnone at all. But here again I desiderate some leave, recognized by\nsociety, as in the case of the formulas \"Not at home,\" and \"Not guilty,\"\nin order to give me the right of saying what is a _material_ untruth.\nAnd moreover, 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 when it cannot\nbe kept without a lie? I am not attempting to solve these difficult\nquestions, but they have to be carefully examined. And now I have said\nmore than I had intended on a question of casuistry.\n\n\n\n\nSUPPLEMENTAL MATTER.\n\nI.\n\nLETTERS AND PAPERS OF THE AUTHOR USED IN THE COURSE OF THIS WORK.\n\n                           PAGE\nFebruary    11, 1811          3\nOctober     26, 1823          2\nSeptember    7, 1829        119\nJuly        20, 1834         41\nNovember    28,  \"           57\nAugust      18, 1837         29\nFebruary    11, 1840        124\n    \"       21,  \"          129\nOctober     29(?)\"          132\nNovember         \"          135\nMarch       15, 1841        137\n  \"         20,  \"          170\n  \"         24,  \"          208\n  \"         25,  \"          137\nApril        1,  \"          137\n  \"          4,  \"          138\n  \"          8,  \"          138\n  \"          8,  \"          187\n  \"         26,  \"          188\nMay          5,  \"          188\n \"           9,  \"          138\nJune        18,  \"          189\nSeptember   12, 1841        190\nOctober     12,  \"          143\n   \"        17,  \"          140\n   \"        22,  \"          140\nNovember    11,  \"          145\n   \"        14,  \"          144\nDecember    13,  \"          156\n   \"        24,  \"          157\n   \"        25,  \"          159\n   \"        26,  \"          162\nMarch        6, 1842        177\nApril       14,  \"          173\nOctober     16,  \"          171\nNovember    22,  \"          193\nFeb. 25, &  28, 1843        181\nMarch        3,  \"          182\n  \"          8,  \"          184\nMay          4,  \"          208\n  \"         18,  \"          209\nJune        20,  \"          178\nJuly        16,  \"          179\nAugust      29,  \"          213\nAugust      30, 1843        179\nSeptember    7,  \"          213\n    \"       29,  \"          225\nOctober     14,  \"          219\n    \"       25,  \"          221\n    \"       31,  \"          223\nNovember    13,  \"          140\n1843 or 1844                178\nJanuary     22, 1844        226\nFebruary    21,  \"          226\nApril        3,  \"          205\n  \"          8,  \"          226\nJuly        14,  \"          197\nSeptember   16,  \"          227\nNovember     7,  \"          230\n   \"             \"          211\nNovember    16, 1844        228\n     \"      24,  \"          229\n1844 (?)                    225\n1844 or 1845                167\nJanuary      8, 1845        230\nMarch       30,  \"          231\nApril        3,  \"          232\n   \"        16,  \"          180\nJune         1,  \"          232\n   \"        17,  \"          180\nOctober      8,  \"          234\nNovember     8,  \"          155\n   \"        25,  \"          235\nJanuary     20, 1846        236\nDecember    6,  1849        185\n\n\n\n\nII.\n\nCARDINAL NEWMAN'S WORKS.\n\nN.B.--This List, originally made in 1865, is now corrected up to 1890.\n\n\n1. SERMONS.\n\nVOLS. 1-8. Parochial and Plain Sermons. (_Longmans._)\n\n9. Sermons on Subjects of the Day. (_Longmans._)\n\n10. University Sermons. (_Longmans._)\n\n11. Sermons to Mixed Congregations. (_Burns and Oates._)\n\n12. Occasional Sermons. (_Burns and Oates._)\n\n\n2. TREATISES.\n\n13. On the Doctrine of Justification. (_Longmans._)\n\n14. On the Development of Christian Doctrine. (_Longmans._)\n\n15. On the Idea of a University. (_Longmans._)\n\n16. An Essay in Aid of a Grammar of Assent. (_Longmans._)\n\n\n3. ESSAYS.\n\n17. Two Essays on Miracles. 1. Of Scripture. 2. Of Ecclesiastical\nHistory. (_Longmans._)\n\n18. Discussions and Arguments. 1. How to accomplish it. 2. The\nAntichrist of the Fathers. 3. Scripture and the Creed. 4. Tamworth\nReading-Room. 5. Who's to blame? 6. An Argument for Christianity.\n(_Longmans._)\n\n19, 20. Essays Critical and Historical. 2 vols. 1. Poetry. 2.\nRationalism. 3. Apostolical Tradition. 4. De la Mennais. 5. Palmer on\nFaith and Unity. 6. St. Ignatius. 7. Prospects of the Anglican Church.\n8. The Anglo-American Church. 9. Countess of Huntingdon. 10. Catholicity\nof the Anglican Church. 11. The Antichrist of Protestants. 12. Milman's\nChristianity. 13. Reformation of the Eleventh Century. 14. Private\nJudgment. 15. Davison. 16. Keble. (_Longmans._)\n\n\n4. HISTORICAL.\n\n21-23. Historical Sketches. 3 vols. 1. The Turks. 2. Cicero. 3.\nApollonius. 4. Primitive Christianity. 5. Church of the Fathers. 6. St.\nChrysostom. 7. Theodoret. 8. St. Benedict. 9. Benedictine Schools. 10.\nUniversities. 11. Northmen and Normans. 12. Medieval Oxford. 13.\nConvocation of Canterbury. (_Longmans._)\n\n\n5. THEOLOGICAL.\n\n24. The Arians of the Fourth Century. (_Longmans._)\n\n25, 26. Annotated Translation of Athanasius. 2 vols. (_Longmans._)\n\n27. Tracts. 1. Dissertatiuncul\u00e6. 2. On the Text of the Seven Epistles of\nSt. Ignatius. 3. Doctrinal Causes of Arianism. 4. Apollinarianism. 5.\nSt. Cyril's Formula. 6. Ordo de Tempore. 7. Douay Version of Scripture.\n(_Burns and Oates._)\n\n\n6. POLEMICAL.\n\n28, 29. The Via Media of the Anglican Church. 2 vols. with Notes. Vol.\nI. Prophetical Office of the Church. Vol. II. Occasional Letters and\nTracts. (_Longmans._)\n\n30, 31. Certain Difficulties felt by Anglicans in Catholic Teaching\nConsidered. 2 vols. Vol. I. Twelve Lectures. Vol. II. Letters to Dr.\nPusey concerning the Bl. Virgin, and to the Duke of Norfolk in Defence\nof the Pope and Council. (_Longmans._)\n\n32. Present Position of Catholics in England. (_Longmans._)\n\n33. Apologia pro Vita Sua. (_Longmans._)\n\n\n7. LITERARY.\n\n34. Verses on Various Occasions. (_Longmans._)\n\n35. Loss and Gain. (_Burns and Oates._)\n\n36. Callista. (_Longmans._)\n\n37. The Dream of Gerontius. (_Longmans._)\n\n\u00b6 It is scarcely necessary to say that the Author submits all that he\nhas written to the judgment of the Church, whose gift and prerogative it\nis to determine what is true and what is false in religious teaching.\n\n\n\n\nIII.\n\nLETTER OF APPROBATION AND ENCOURAGEMENT FROM THE BISHOP OF THE DIOCESE\nOF BIRMINGHAM, DR. ULLATHORNE.\n\n\n\"Bishop's House, June 2, 1864.\n\n\"My dear Dr. Newman,--\n\n\"It was with warm gratification that, after the close of the Synod\nyesterday, I listened to the Address presented to you by the clergy of\nthe diocese, and to your impressive reply. But I should have been little\nsatisfied with the part of the silent listener, except on the\nunderstanding with myself that I also might afterwards express to you my\nown sentiments in my own way.\n\n\"We have now been personally acquainted, and much more than acquainted,\nfor nineteen years, during more than sixteen of which we have stood in\nspecial relation of duty towards each other. This has been one of the\nsingular blessings which God has given me amongst the cares of the\nEpiscopal office. What my feelings of respect, of confidence, and of\naffection have been towards you, you know well, nor should I think of\nexpressing them in words. But there is one thing that has struck me in\nthis day of explanations, which you could not, and would not, be\ndisposed to do, and which no one could do so properly or so\nauthentically as I could, and which it seems to me is not altogether\nuncalled for, if every kind of erroneous impression that some persons\nhave entertained with no better evidence than conjecture is to be\nremoved.\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 been\nmore occupied with your own thoughts than with the service of religion\nand the work of the Church. If we take no other work into consideration\nbeyond the written productions which your Catholic pen has given to the\nworld, they are enough for the life's labour of another. There are the\nLectures on Anglican Difficulties, the Lectures on Catholicism in\nEngland, the great work on the Scope and End of University Education,\nthat on the Office and Work of Universities, the Lectures and Essays on\nUniversity Subjects, and the two Volumes of Sermons; not to speak of\nyour contributions to the Atlantis, which you founded, and to other\nperiodicals; then there are those beautiful offerings to Catholic\nliterature, the Lectures on the Turks, Loss and Gain, and Callista, and\nthough last, not least, the Apologia, which is destined to put many idle\nrumours to rest, and many unprofitable surmises; and yet all these\nproductions represent but a portion of your labour, and that in the\nsecond half of your period 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 specify\nfour of these undertakings, each of a distinct character, and any one of\nwhich would have made a reputation for untiring energy in the practical\norder.\n\n\"The first of these undertakings was the establishment of the\ncongregation of the Oratory of St. Philip Neri--that great ornament and\naccession to the force of English Catholicity. Both the London and the\nBirmingham Oratory must look to you as their founder and as the\noriginator 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 magnitude\nand difficulty, the founding of a University in Ireland. After the\nUniversities had been lost to the Catholics of these kingdoms for three\ncenturies, every thing had to be begun from the beginning: the idea of\nsuch an institution to be inculcated, the plan to be formed that would\nwork, the resources to be gathered, and the staff of superiors and\nprofessors to be brought together. Your name was then the chief point of\nattraction which brought these elements together. You alone know what\ndifficulties you had to conciliate and what to surmount, before the work\nreached that state of consistency and promise, which enabled you to\nreturn to those responsibilities in England which you had never laid\naside or suspended. And here, excuse me if I give expression to a fancy\nwhich passed through my mind.\n\n\"I was lately reading a poem, not long published, from the MSS. De Rerum\nNatura, by Neckham, the foster-brother of Richard the Lion-hearted. He\nquotes an old prophecy, attributed to Merlin, and with a sort of wonder,\nas if recollecting that England owed so much of its literary learning to\nthat country; and the prophecy says that after long years Oxford will\npass into Ireland--'Vada boum suo tempore transibunt in Hiberniam.' When\nI read this, I could not but indulge the pleasant fancy that in the days\nwhen the Dublin University shall arise in material splendour, an\nallusion to this prophecy might form a poetic element in the inscription\non the pedestal of the statue which commemorates its first Rector.\n\n\"The original plan of an Oratory did not contemplate any parochial work,\nbut you could not contemplate so many souls in want of pastors without\nbeing prompt and ready at the beck of authority to strain all your\nefforts in coming to their help. And this brings me to the third and the\nmost continuous of those labours to which I have alluded. The mission in\nAlcester Street, its church and schools, were the first work of the\nBirmingham Oratory. After several years of close and hard work, and a\nconsiderable call upon the private resources of the Fathers who had\nestablished this congregation, it was delivered over to other hands, and\nthe Fathers removed to the district of Edgbaston, where up to that time\nnothing Catholic had appeared. Then arose under your direction the large\nconvent of the Oratory, the church expanded by degrees into its present\ncapaciousness, a numerous congregation has gathered and grown in it;\npoor schools and other pious institutions have grown up in connexion\nwith it, and, moreover, equally at your expense and that of your\nbrethren, and, as I have reason to know, at much inconvenience, the\nOratory has relieved the other clergy of Birmingham all this while by\nconstantly doing the duty in the poor-house and gaol of Birmingham.\n\n\"More recently still, the mission and the poor school at Smethwick owe\ntheir existence to the Oratory. And all this while the founder and\nfather of these religious works has added to his other solicitudes the\ntoil of frequent preaching, of attendance in the confessional, and other\nparochial 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 of\nthe town were no longer equal to the number of cases to which they were\nhurried day and night, I asked you to lend me two fathers to supply the\nplace of other priests whom I wished to send as a further aid. But you\nand Father St. John preferred to take the place of danger which I had\ndestined for others, and remained at Bilston till the worst was over.\n\n\"The fourth work which I would notice is one more widely known. I refer\nto the school for the education of the higher classes, which at the\nsolicitation of many friends you have founded and attached to the\nOratory. Surely after reading this bare enumeration of work done, no man\nwill venture to say that Dr. Newman is leading a comparatively inactive\nlife 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 one\nword more for my own satisfaction. During our long intercourse there is\nonly one subject on which, after the first experience, I have measured\nmy words with some caution, and that has been where questions bearing on\necclesiastical duty have arisen. I found some little caution necessary,\nbecause you were always so prompt and ready to go even beyond the\nslightest intimation of my wish or desires.\n\n\"That God may bless you with health, life, and all the spiritual good\nwhich you desire, you and your brethren of the Oratory, is the earnest\nprayer now and often of,\n\n\"My dear Dr. Newman,\n\n\"Your affectionate friend and faithful servant in Christ,\n\n\"+ W. B. ULLATHORNE.\"\n\n\n\n\nIV.\n\nLETTERS OF APPROBATION AND ENCOURAGEMENT FROM CLERGY AND LAITY.\n\n\nIt requires some words of explanation why I allow myself to sound my own\npraises so loudly, as I am doing by adding to my Volume the following\nLetters, written to me last year by large bodies of my Catholic\nbrethren, Priests, and Laymen, in the course or on the conclusion of the\npublication of my Apologia. I have two reasons for doing so.\n\n1. It seems hardly respectful to them, and hardly fair to myself, to\npractise self-denial in a matter, which after all belongs to others as\nwell as to me. Bodies of men become authorities by the fact of being\nbodies, over and above the personal claims of the individuals who\nconstitute them. To have received such unusual Testimonials in my\nfavour, as I have to produce, and then to have let both those\nTestimonials and the generous feelings which dictated them be wasted,\nand come to nought, would have been a rudeness of which I could not bear\nto be guilty. Far be it from me to show such ingratitude to those who\nwere especially \"friends in need.\" I am too proud of their approbation\nnot to publish it to the world.\n\n2. But I have a further reason. The belief obtains extensively in the\ncountry at large, that Catholics, and especially the Priesthood, disavow\nthe mode and form, in which I am accustomed to teach the Catholic faith,\nas if they were not generally recognized, but something special and\npeculiar to myself; as if, whether for the purposes of controversy, or\nfrom the traditions of an earlier period of my life, I did not exhibit\nCatholicism pure and simple, as the bulk of its professors manifest it.\nSuch testimonials, then, as now follow, from as many as 558 priests,\nthat is, not far from half of the clergy of England, secular and\nreligious, from the Bishop and clergy of a diocese at the Antipodes, and\nfrom so great and authoritative a body as the German Congress assembled\nlast year at Wurzburg, scatter to the winds a suspicion, which it is not\nless painful, I am persuaded, to numbers of those Protestants who\nentertain it, than it is injurious to me who have to bear it.\n\n\nI. THE DIOCESE OF WESTMINSTER.\n\nThe following Address was signed by 110 of the Westminster clergy,\nincluding all the Canons, the Vicars General, a great number of secular\npriests, and five Doctors in theology; Fathers of the Society of Jesus,\nFathers of the Order of St. Dominic, of St. Francis, of the Oratory, of\nthe Passion, of Charity, Oblates of St. Charles, and Marists.\n\n\"London, March 15, 1864.\n\n\"Very Reverend and Dear Sir,\n\n\"We, the undersigned Priests of the Diocese of Westminster, tender to\nyou our respectful thanks for the service you have done to religion, as\nwell as to the interests of literary morality, by your Reply to the\ncalumnies of [a popular writer of the day.]\n\n\"We cannot but regard it as a matter of congratulation that your\nassailant should have associated the cause of the Catholic Priesthood\nwith the name of one so well fitted to represent its dignity, and to\ndefend its honour, as yourself.\n\n\"We recognize in this latest effort of your literary power one further\nclaim, besides the many you have already established, to the gratitude\nand veneration of Catholics, and trust that the reception which it has\nmet with on all sides may be the omen of new successes which you are\ndestined to achieve in the vindication of the teaching and principles of\nthe Church.\n\n\"We are,\n\n\"Very Reverend and Dear Sir,\n\n\"Your faithful and affectionate Servants in Christ.\"\n\n(_The Subscriptions follow._)\n\n\"To the Very Rev.\n\n\"John Henry Newman, D.D.\"\n\n\nII.--THE ACADEMIA OF CATHOLIC RELIGION.\n\n\"London, April 19, 1864.\n\n\"Very Rev. and Dear Sir,\n\n\"The Academia of Catholic Religion, at their meeting held to-day, under\nthe Presidency of the Cardinal Archbishop, have instructed us to write\nto you in their behalf.\n\n\"As they have learned, with great satisfaction, that it is your\nintention to publish a defence of Catholic Veracity, which has been\nassailed in your person, they are precluded from asking you that that\ndefence might be made by word of mouth, and in London, as they would\notherwise have done.\n\n\"Composed, as the Academia is, mainly of Laymen, they feel that it is\nnot out of their province to express their indignation that your\nopponent should have chosen, while praising the Catholic Laity, to do so\nat the expense of the Clergy, between whom and themselves, in this as in\nall other matters, there exists a perfect identity of principle and\npractice.\n\n\"It is because, in such a matter, your cause is the cause of all\nCatholics, that we congratulate ourselves on the rashness of the\nopponent that has thrown the defence of that cause into your hands.\n\n\"We remain,\n\n\"Very Reverend and Dear Sir,\n\n\"Your very faithful Servants,\n\n\"JAMES LAIRD PATTERSON,\n\n\"EDW. LUCAS, _Secretaries._\n\n\"To the Very Rev. John Henry Newman, D.D.,\n\n\"Provost of the Birmingham Oratory.\"\n\nThe above was moved at the meeting by Lord Petre, and seconded by the\nHon. Charles Langdale.\n\n\nIII.--THE DIOCESE OF BIRMINGHAM.\n\nIn this Diocese there were in 1864, according to the Directory of the\nyear, 136 Priests.\n\n\"June 1, 1864.\n\n\"Very Reverend and Dear Sir,\n\n\"In availing ourselves of your presence at the Diocesan Synod to offer\nyou our hearty thanks for your recent vindication of the honour of the\nCatholic Priesthood, We, the Provost and Chapter of the Cathedral, and\nthe Clergy, Secular and Regular, of the Diocese of Birmingham, cannot\nforego the assertion of a special right, as your neighbours and\ncolleagues, to express our veneration and affection for one whose\nfidelity to the dictates of conscience, in the use of the highest\nintellectual gifts, has won even from opponents unbounded admiration and\nrespect.\n\n\"To most of us you are personally known. Of some, indeed, you were, in\nyears long past, the trusted guide, to whom they owe more than can be\nexpressed in words; and all are conscious that the ingenuous fulness of\nyour answer to a false and unprovoked accusation, has intensified their\ninterest in the labours and trials of your life. While, then, we resent\nthe indignity to which you have been exposed, and lament the pain and\nannoyance which the manifestation of yourself must have cost you, we\ncannot but rejoice that, in the fulfilment of a duty, you have allowed\nneither the unworthiness of your assailant to shield him from rebuke,\nnor the sacredness of your inmost motives to deprive that rebuke of the\nonly form which could at once complete his discomfiture, free your own\nname from the obloquy which prejudice had cast upon it, and afford\ninvaluable aid to honest seekers after Truth.\n\n\"Great as is the work which you have already done, Very Reverend Sir,\npermit us to express a hope that a greater yet remains for you to\naccomplish. In an age and in a country in which the very foundations of\nreligious faith are exposed to assault, we rejoice in numbering among\nour brethren one so well qualified by learning and experience to defend\nthat priceless deposit of Truth, in obtaining which you have counted as\ngain the loss of all things most dear and precious. And we esteem\nourselves happy in being able to offer you that support and\nencouragement which the assurance of our unfeigned admiration and regard\nmay be able to give you under your present trials and future labours.\n\n\"That you may long have strength to labour for the Church of God and the\nglory of His Holy Name is, Very Reverend and Dear Sir, our heartfelt and\nunited prayer.\"\n\n(_The Subscriptions follow._)\n\n\"To the Very Rev. John Henry Newman, D.D.\"\n\n\nIV.--THE DIOCESE OF BEVERLEY.\n\nThe following Address, as is stated in the first paragraph, comes from\nmore than 70 Priests:--\n\n\"Hull, May 9, 1864.\n\n\"Very Rev. and Dear Dr. Newman,\n\n\"At a recent meeting of the clergy of the Diocese of Beverley, held in\nYork, at which upwards of seventy priests were present, special\nattention was called to your correspondence with [a popular writer]; and\nsuch was the enthusiasm with which your name was received--such was the\nadmiration expressed of the dignity with which you had asserted the\nclaims of the Catholic Priesthood in England to be treated with becoming\ncourtesy and respect--and such was the strong and all-pervading sense of\nthe invaluable service which you had thus rendered, not only to faith\nand morals, but to good manners so far as regarded religious controversy\nin this country, that I was requested, as Chairman, to become the voice\nof the meeting, and to express to you as strongly and as earnestly as I\ncould, how heartily the whole of the clergy of this diocese desire to\nthank you for services to religion as well-timed as they are in\nthemselves above and beyond all commendation, services which the\nCatholics of England will never cease to hold in most grateful\nremembrance. God, in His infinite wisdom and great mercy, has raised you\nup to stand prominently forth in the glorious work of re-establishing in\nthis country the holy faith which in good old times shed such lustre\nupon it. We all lament that, in the order of nature, you have so few\nyears before you in which to fight against false teaching that good\nfight in which you have been so victoriously engaged of late. But our\nprayers are that you may long be spared, and may possess to the last all\nyour vigour, and all that zeal for the advancement of our holy faith,\nwhich imparts such a charm to the productions of your pen.\n\n\"I esteem it a great honour and a great privilege to have been deputed,\nas the representative of the clergy of the Diocese of Beverley, to\ntender you the fullest expression of our most grateful thanks, and the\nassurance of our prayers for your health and eternal happiness.\n\n\"I am,\n\n\"Very Rev. and Dear Sir,\n\n\"With sentiments of profound respect,\n\n\"Yours most faithfully in Christ,\n\n\"M. TRAPPES.\n\n\"The Very Rev. Dr. Newman.\"\n\n\nV. AND VI.--THE DIOCESES OF LIVERPOOL AND SALFORD.\n\nThe Secular Clergy of Liverpool amounted in 1864 to 103, and of Salford\nto 76.\n\n\"Preston, July 27, 1864.\n\n\"Very Rev. and Dear Sir,\n\n\"It may seem, perhaps, that the Clergy of Lancashire have been slow to\naddress you; but it would be incorrect to suppose that they have been\nindifferent spectators of the conflict in which you have been recently\nengaged. This is the first opportunity that has presented itself, and\nthey gladly avail themselves of their annual meeting in Preston to\ntender to you the united expression of their heartfelt sympathy and\ngratitude.\n\n\"The atrocious imputation, out of which the late controversy arose, was\nfelt as a personal affront by them, one and all, conscious as they were,\nthat it was mainly owing to your position as a distinguished Catholic\necclesiastic, that the charge was connected with your name.\n\n\"While they regret the pain you must needs have suffered, they cannot\nhelp rejoicing that it has afforded you an opportunity of rendering a\nnew and most important service to their holy religion. Writers, who are\nnot overscrupulous about the truth themselves, have long used the charge\nof untruthfulness as an ever ready weapon against the Catholic Clergy.\nPartly from the frequent repetition of this charge, partly from a\nconsciousness that, instead of undervaluing the truth, they have ever\nprized it above every earthly treasure, partly, too, from the difficulty\nof obtaining a hearing in their own defence, they have generally passed\nit by in silence. They thank you for coming forward as their champion:\nyour own character required no vindication. It was their battle more\nthan your own that you fought. They know and feel how much pain it has\ncaused you to bring so prominently forward your own life and motives,\nbut they now congratulate you on the completeness of your triumph, as\nadmitted alike by friend and enemy.\n\n\"In addition to answering the original accusation, you have placed them\nunder a new obligation, by giving to all, who read the English language,\na work which, for literary ability and the lucid exposition of many\ndifficult and abstruse points, forms an invaluable contribution to our\nliterature.\n\n\"They fervently pray that God may give you health and length of days,\nand, if it please Him, some other cause in which to use for His glory\nthe great powers bestowed upon you.\n\n\"Signed on behalf of the Meeting,\n\n\"THOS. PROVOST COOKSON.\n\n\"The Very Rev. J. H. Newman.\"\n\n\nVII.--THE DIOCESE OF HEXHAM.\n\nThe Secular Priests on Mission in 1864 in this Diocese were 64.\n\n\"Durham, Sept. 22, 1864.\n\n\"My Dear Dr. Newman,\n\n\"At the annual meeting of the Clergy of the Diocese of Hexham and\nNewcastle, held a few days ago at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, I was\ncommissioned by them to express to you their sincere sympathy, on\naccount of the slanderous accusations, to which you have been so\nunjustly exposed. We are fully aware that these foul calumnies were\nintended to injure the character of the whole body of the Catholic\nClergy, and that your distinguished name was singled out, in order that\nthey might be more effectually propagated. It is well that these\npoisonous shafts were thus aimed, as no one could more triumphantly\nrepel them. The 'Apologia pro Vit\u00e2 su\u00e2' will, if possible, render still\nmore illustrious the name of its gifted author, and be a lasting\nmonument of the victory of truth, and the signal overthrow of an\narrogant and reckless assailant.\n\n\"It may appear late for us now to ask to join in your triumph, but as\nthe Annual Meeting of the Northern Clergy does not take place till this\ntime, it is the first occasion offered us to present our united\ncongratulations, and to declare to you, that by none of your brethren\nare you more esteemed and venerated, than by the Clergy of the Diocese\nof Hexham and Newcastle.\n\n\"Wishing that Almighty God may prolong your life many more years for the\ndefence of our holy religion and the honour of your brethren,\n\n\"I am, dear Dr. Newman,\n\n\"Yours sincerely in Jesus Christ,\n\n\"RALPH PROVOST PLATT, V. G.\n\n\"The Very Rev. J. H. Newman.\"\n\n\nVIII.--THE CONGRESS OF W\u00dcRZBURG.\n\n\"September 15, 1864.\n\n\"Sir,\n\n\"The undersigned, President of the Catholic Congress of Germany\nassembled in W\u00fcrzburg, has been commissioned to express to you, Very\nRev. and Dear Sir, its deep-felt gratitude for your late able defence of\nthe Catholic Clergy, not only of England, but of the whole world,\nagainst the attacks of its enemies.\n\n\"The Catholics of Germany unite with the Catholics of England in\ntestifying to you their profound admiration and sympathy, and pray that\nthe Almighty may long preserve your valuable life.\n\n\"The above Resolution was voted by the Congress with acclamation.\n\n\"Accept, very Rev. and Dear Sir, the expression of the high\nconsideration with which I am\n\n\"Your most obedient servant,\n\n\"(Signed) ERNEST BARON MOIJ DE SONS.\n\n\"The Very Rev. J. H. Newman.\"\n\n\nIX.--THE DIOCESE OF HOBART TOWN.\n\n\n\"Hobart Town, Tasmania, November 22, 1864.\n\n\"Very Rev. and Dear Sir,\n\n\"By the last month's post we at length received your admirable book,\nentitled, 'Apologia pro Vit\u00e2 su\u00e2,' and the pamphlet, 'What then does Dr.\nNewman mean?'\n\n\"By this month's mail, we wish to express our heartfelt gratification\nand delight for being possessed of a work so triumphant in maintaining\ntruth, and so overwhelming in confounding arrogance and error, as the\n'Apologia.'\n\n\"No doubt, your adversary, resting on the deep-seated prejudice of our\nfellow-countrymen in the United Kingdom, calculated upon establishing\nhis own fame as a keen-sighted polemic, as a shrewd and truth-loving\nman, upon the fallen reputation of one, who, as he would\ndemonstrate,--yes, that he would,--set little or no value on truth, and\nwho, therefore, would deservedly sink into obscurity, henceforward\nrejected and despised!\n\n\"Aman of old erected a gibbet at the gate of the city, on which an\nunsuspecting and an unoffending man, one marked as a victim, was to be\nexposed to the gaze and derision of the people, in order that his own\ndignity and fame might be exalted; but a divine Providence ordained\notherwise. The history of the judgment that fell upon Aman, has been\nrecorded in Holy Writ, it is to be presumed, as a warning to vain and\nunscrupulous men, even in our days. There can be no doubt, a moral\ngibbet, full 'fifty cubits high,' had been prepared some time, on which\nyou were to be exposed, for the pity at least, if not for the scorn and\nderision of so many, who had loved and venerated you through life!\n\n\"But the effort made in the forty-eight pages of the redoubtable\npamphlet, 'What then does Dr. Newman Mean?'--the production of a bold,\nunscrupulous man, with a coarse mind, and regardless of inflicting pain\non the feelings of another, has failed,--marvellously failed,--and he\nhimself is now exhibited not only in our fatherland, but even at the\nAntipodes, in fact wherever the English language is spoken or read, as a\nshallow pretender, one quite incompetent to treat of matters of such\nundying interest as those he presumed to interfere with.\n\n\"We fervently pray the Almighty, that you may be spared to His Church\nfor many years to come,--that to Him alone the glory of this noble work\nmay be given,--and to you the reward in eternal bliss!\n\n\"And from this distant land we beg to convey to you, Very Rev. and Dear\nSir, the sentiments of our affectionate respect, and deep veneration.\"\n\n(_The Subscriptions follow, of the Bishop Vicar-General and eighteen\nClergy._)\n\n\"The Very Rev. Dr. Newman,\n&c. &c. &c.\"\n\n\n\n\nADDITIONAL NOTES.\n\n\nNOTE ON PAGE 12.\n\nCORRESPONDENCE WITH ARCHBISHOP WHATELY IN 1834.\n\nOn application of the Editor of Dr. Whately's Correspondence, the\nfollowing four letters were sent to her for publication: they are here\ngiven entire. It will be observed that they are of the same date as my\nletter to Dr. Hampden at p. 57.\n\n\n1.\n\n\"Dublin, October 25, 1834.\n\n\"My dear Newman,\n\n\"A most shocking report concerning you has reached me, which indeed\ncarries such an improbability on the face of it that you may perhaps\nwonder at my giving it a thought; and at first I did not, but finding it\nrepeated from different quarters, it seems to me worth contradicting for\nthe sake of your character. Some Oxford undergraduates, I find, openly\nreport that when I was at Oriel last spring you absented yourself from\nchapel on purpose to avoid receiving the Communion along with me; and\nthat you yourself declared this to be the case.\n\n\"I would not notice every idle rumour; but this has been so confidently\nand so long asserted that it would be a satisfaction to me to be able to\ndeclare its falsity as a fact, from your authority. I did indeed at once\ndeclare my utter unbelief; but then this has only the weight of my\nopinion; though an opinion resting I think on no insufficient grounds. I\ndid not profess to rest my disbelief on our long, intimate, and\nconfidential friendship, which would make it your right and your\nduty--if I did any thing to offend you or any thing you might think\nmaterially wrong--to remonstrate with me;--but on your general\ncharacter; which I was persuaded would have made you incapable, even had\nno such close connexion existed between us, of conduct so unchristian\nand inhuman. But, as I said, I should like for your sake to be able to\ncontradict the report from your own authority.\n\n\"Ever yours very truly,\n\n\"R. WHATELY.\"\n\n\n2.\n\n\"Oriel College, October 28, 1834.\n\n\"My dear Lord,\n\n\"My absence from the Sacrament in the College Chapel on the Sunday you\nwere in Oxford, was occasioned solely and altogether by my having it on\nthat day in St. Mary's; and I am pretty sure, if I may trust my memory,\nthat I did not even know of your Grace's presence there, till after the\nService. Most certainly such knowledge would not have affected my\nattendance. I need not say, this being the case, that the report of my\nhaving made any statement on the subject is quite unfounded; indeed,\nyour letter of this morning is the first information I have had in any\nshape of the existence of the report.\n\n\"I am happy in being thus able to afford an explanation as satisfactory\nto you, as the kind feelings which you have ever entertained towards me\ncould desire;--yet, on honest reflection, I cannot conceal from myself,\nthat it was generally a relief to me, to see so little of your Grace,\nwhen you were at Oxford: and it is a greater relief now to have an\nopportunity of saying so to yourself. I have ever wished to observe the\nrule, never to make a public charge against another behind his back,\nand, though in the course of conversation and the urgency of accidental\noccurrences it is sometimes difficult to keep to it, yet I trust I have\nnot broken it, especially in your own case: i.e. though my most intimate\nfriends know how deeply I deplore the line of ecclesiastical policy\nadopted under your archiepiscopal sanction, and though in society I may\nhave clearly shown that I have an opinion one way rather than the other,\nyet I have never in my intention, never (as I believe) at all, spoken of\nyour Grace in a serious way before strangers;--indeed mixing very little\nin general society, and not overapt to open myself in it, I have had\nlittle temptation to do so. Least of all should I so forget myself as to\ntake undergraduates into my confidence in such a matter.\n\n\"I wish I could convey to your Grace the mixed and very painful\nfeelings, which the late history of the Irish Church has raised in\nme:--the union of her members with men of heterodox views, and the\nextinction (without ecclesiastical sanction) of half her Candlesticks,\nthe witnesses and guarantees of the Truth and trustees of the Covenant.\nI willingly own that both in my secret judgment and my mode of speaking\nconcerning you to my friends, I have had great alternations and changes\nof feeling,--defending, then blaming your policy, next praising your own\nself and protesting against your measures, according as the affectionate\nremembrances which I had of you rose against my utter aversion of the\nsecular and unbelieving policy in which I considered the Irish Church to\nbe implicated. I trust I shall never be forgetful of the kindness you\nuniformly showed me during your residence in Oxford: and anxiously hope\nthat no duty to Christ and His Church may ever interfere with the\nexpression of my sense of it. However, on the present opportunity, I am\nconscious to myself, that I am acting according to the dictates both of\nduty and gratitude, if I beg your leave to state my persuasion, that the\nperilous measures in which your Grace has acquiesced are but the\nlegitimate offspring of those principles, difficult to describe in few\nwords, with which your reputation is especially associated; principles\nwhich bear upon the very fundamentals of all argument and investigation,\nand affect almost every doctrine and every maxim by which our faith or\nour conduct is to be guided. I can feel no reluctance to confess, that,\nwhen I first was noticed by your Grace, gratitude to you and admiration\nof your powers wrought upon me; and, had not something from within\nresisted, I should certainly have adopted views on religious and social\nduty, which seem to my present judgment to be based in the pride of\nreason and to tend towards infidelity, and which in your own case\nnothing but your Grace's high religious temper and the unclouded faith\nof early piety has been able to withstand.\n\n\"I am quite confident, that, however you may regard this judgment, you\nwill give me credit, not only for honesty, but for a deeper feeling in\nthus laying it before you.\n\n\"May I be suffered to add, that your name is ever mentioned in my\nprayers, and to subscribe myself\n\n\"Your Grace's very sincere friend and servant,\n\n\"J. H. NEWMAN.\"\n\n\n3.\n\n\"Dublin, November 3, 1834.\n\n\"My dear Newman,\n\n\"I cannot forbear writing again to express the great satisfaction I feel\nin the course I adopted; which has, eventually, enabled me to contradict\na report which was more prevalent and more confidently upheld than I\ncould have thought possible: and which, while it was perhaps likely to\nhurt my character with some persons, was injurious to yours in the eyes\nof the best men. For what idea must any one have had of religion--or at\nleast of your religion--who was led to think there was any truth in the\nimputation to you of such uncharitable arrogance!\n\n\"But it is a rule with me, not to cherish, even on the strongest\nassertions, any belief or even suspicion, to the prejudice of any one\nwhom I have any reason to think well of, till I have carefully inquired,\nand dispassionately heard both sides. And I think if others were to\nadopt the same rule, I should not myself be quite so much abused as I\nhave been.\n\n\"I am well aware indeed that one cannot expect all, even good men, to\nthink alike on every point, even after they shall have heard both sides;\nand that we may expect many to judge, after all, very harshly of those\nwho do differ from them: for, God help us! what will become of men if\nthey receive no more mercy than they show to each other! But at least,\nif the rule were observed, men would not condemn a brother on mere vague\npopular rumour, about principles (as in my case) 'difficult to describe\nin few words,' and with which his 'reputation is associated.' My own\nreputation I know is associated, to a very great degree, with what are\nin fact calumnious imputations, originated in exaggerated, distorted, or\nabsolutely false statements, for which even those who circulate them, do\nnot, for the most part, pretend to have any ground except popular\nrumour: like the Jews at Rome; 'as for this way, we know that it is\nevery where spoken against.'\n\n\"For I have ascertained that a very large proportion of those who join\nin the outcry against my works, confess, or even boast, that they have\nnever read them. And in respect of the measure you advert to--the Church\nTemporalities Act--(which of course I shall not now discuss), it is\ncurious to see how many of those who load me with censure for\nacquiescing in it, receive with open arms, and laud to the skies, the\nPrimate; who was consulted on the measure--as was natural, considering\nhis knowledge of Irish affairs, and his influence--long before me; and\ngave his consent to it; differing from Ministers only on a point of\ndetail, whether the revenues of six Sees, or of ten, should be\nalienated.\n\n\"Of course, every one is bound ultimately to decide according to his own\njudgment; nor do I mean to shelter myself under his example: but only to\npoint out what strange notions of justice those have, who acquit with\napplause the leader, and condemn the follower in the same individual\ntransaction.\n\n\"Far be it from any servant of our Master, to feel surprise or anger at\nbeing thus treated; it is only an admonition to me to avoid treating\nothers in a similar manner; and not to 'judge another's servant,' at\nleast without a fair hearing.\n\n\"You do me no more than justice, in feeling confident that I shall give\nyou credit both for 'honesty and for a deeper feeling' in freely laying\nyour opinions before me: and besides this, you might have been no less\nconfident, from your own experience, that, long since--whenever it was\nthat you changed your judgment respecting me--if you had freely and\ncalmly remonstrated with me on any point where you thought me going\nwrong, I should have listened to you with that readiness and candour and\ndeference, which as you well know, I always showed, in the times when\n'we took sweet counsel together, and walked in the house of God as\nfriends;'--when we consulted together about so many practical measures,\nand about almost all the principal points in my publications.\n\n\"I happen to have before me a letter from you just eight years ago, in\nwhich, after saying that 'there are few things you wish more sincerely\nthan to be known as a friend of mine,' and attributing to me, in the\nwarmest and most flattering terms, a much greater share in the forming\nof your mind than I could presume to claim, you bear a testimony, in\nwhich I do most heartily concur, to the _freedom_ at least of our\n_intercourse_, and the readiness and respect with which you were\nlistened to. Your words are: 'Much as I owe to Oriel in the way of\nmental improvement, to none, as I think, do I owe so much as to\nyourself. I know who it was first gave me heart to look about me after\nmy election, and taught me to think correctly, and--strange office for\nan instructor--to rely upon myself. Nor can I forget that it has been at\nyour kind suggestion, that I have since been led to employ myself in the\nconsideration of several subjects, which I cannot doubt have been very\nbeneficial to my mind.'\n\n\"If in all this I was erroneous,--if I have misled you, or any one else,\ninto 'the pride of reason,' or any other kind of pride,--or if I have\nentertained, or led others into, any wrong opinions, I can only say I\nsincerely regret it. And again I rejoice if I have been the means of\ncontributing to form in any one that 'high religious temper and\nunclouded faith' of which I not only believe, with you, that they are\nable to withstand tendencies towards infidelity, but also, that\n_without_ them, no correctness of abstract opinions is worth much. But\nwhat I meant to point out, is, that there was plainly nothing to\npreclude you from offering friendly admonition (when your view of my\nprinciples changed), with a full confidence of being at least patiently\nand kindly listened to.\n\n\"I for my part could not bring myself to find relief in escaping the\nsociety of an old friend,--with whom I had been accustomed to frank\ndiscussion,--on account of my differing from him as to certain\nprinciples, whether through a change of _his_ views, or (much more) of\n_my own_,--till at least I had made full trial of private and\naffectionate remonstrance and free discussion. Even a 'man that is a\nheretic,' we are told, even a ruler of a Church is not to reject, till\nafter repeated admonitions.\n\n\"But though your regard for me does not show itself such as I think mine\nwould have been under similar circumstances, I will not therefore reject\nwhat remains of it. Let us pray for each other that it may please God to\nenlighten whichever of us is, on any point, in error, and recall him to\nthe truth; and that at any rate we may hold fast that charity, without\nwhich all knowledge, and all faith, that could remove mountains, will\nprofit us nothing.\n\n\"I fear you will read with a jaundiced eye,--if you venture to read it\nat all--any publication of mine; but 'for auld lang syne' I take\nadvantage of a frank to enclose you my last two addresses to my clergy.\n\n\"Very sincerely yours,\n\n\"RD. WHATELY.\"\n\n\n4.\n\n\"Oriel, November 11, 1834.\n\n\"My dear Lord,\n\n\"The remarks contained in your last letter do not come upon me by\nsurprise, and I can only wish that I may be as able to explain myself to\nyou, as I do with a clear and honest conscience to myself. Your Grace\nwill observe that the letter of mine from which you make an extract, was\nwritten when I _was_ in habits of intimacy with you, in which I have not\nbeen of late years. It does not at all follow, because I could then\nspeak freely to you, that I might at another time. Opportunity is the\nchief thing in such an office as delivering to a superior an opinion\nabout himself. Though I never concealed my opinion from you, I have\nnever been forward. I have spoken when place and time admitted, when my\nopinion was asked, when I was called to your side and was made your\ncounsellor. No such favourable circumstances have befallen me of late\nyears,--if I must now state in explanation what in truth has never\noccurred to me in _this fulness_, till now I am called to reflect upon\nmy own conduct and to account for an apparent omission. I have spoken\nthe first opportunity you have given me; and I am persuaded good very\nseldom comes of _volunteering_ a remonstrance.\n\n\"Again, I cannot doubt for an instant that you have long been aware in a\nmeasure that my opinions differed from your Grace's. You knew it when at\nOxford, for you often found me differing from you. You must have felt\nit, at the time you left Oxford for Dublin. You must have known it from\nhearsay in consequence of the book I have published. What indeed can\naccount for my want of opportunities to speak to you freely my mind, but\nthe feeling on your part, (which, if existing, is nothing but a fair\nreason,) that my views are different from yours?\n\n\"And that difference is certainly of no recent date. I tacitly allude to\nit in the very letter you quote--in which, I recollect well that the\nwords 'strange office for an instructor,--_to rely upon myself_,' were\nintended to convey to you that, much as I valued (and still value) your\ngreat kindness and the advantage of your countenance to me at that time,\nyet even then I did not fall in with the line of opinions which you had\nadopted. In them I never acquiesced. Doubtless I may have used at times\nsentiments and expressions, which I should not now use; but I believe\nthese had no root in my mind, and as such they were mere idle words\nwhich I ought ever to be ashamed of, because they _were_ idle. But the\nopinions to which I especially alluded in my former letter as associated\nby the world with your Grace's name under the title of 'Liberal,' (but\nnot, as you suppose, received by me on the world's authority,) are those\nwhich may be briefly described as the Anti-superstition notions; and to\nthese I do not recollect ever assenting. Connected with these I would\ninstance the undervaluing of Antiquity, and resting on one's own\nreasonings, judgments, definitions, &c., rather than authority and\nprecedent; and I think I gave very little in to this;--for a very short\ntime too (if at all), in to the notion that the State, as such, had\nnothing to do with religion. On the other hand, whatever I held then\ndeliberately, I believe I hold now; though perhaps I may not consider\nthem as points of such prominent importance, or with precisely the same\nbearing as I did then:--as the abolition of the Jewish Sabbath, the\nunscripturalness of the doctrine of imputed righteousness (i.e. our\nLord's active obedience)--the mistakes of the so-called Evangelical\nsystem, the independence of the Church; the genius of the Gospel as a\nLaw of Liberty, and the impropriety of forming geological theories from\nScripture. Of course every one changes in opinion between twenty and\nthirty; doubtless, I have changed; yet I am not conscious that I have so\nmuch _changed_, as made up my mind on points on which I had no opinion.\nE.g. I had no opinion about the Catholic Question till 1829. No one can\ntruly say I was ever _for_ the Catholics; but I was not against them. In\nfact I did not enter into the state of the question at all.\n\n\"Then as to my change of judgment as to the character of your Grace's\nopinions, it is natural that, when two persons pursue different lines\nfrom the same point, they should not discover their divergence for a\nlong while; especially if there be any kind feeling in the one towards\nthe other. It was not for a very long time that I discovered that your\nopinions were (as I now think them) but part of intellectual views, so\ndifferent from your own inward mind and character, so peculiar in\nthemselves, and (if you will let me add) so dangerous. For a long time I\nthought them to be but different; for a longer, to be but in parts\ndangerous; but their full character in this respect came on me almost on\na sudden. I heard at Naples the project of destroying the Irish Sees,\nand at first indignantly rejected the notion, which some one suggested,\nthat your Grace had acquiesced in it. I thought I recollected correctly\nyour Grace's opinion of the inherent rights of the Christian Church, and\nI thought you never would allow men of this world so to insult it. When\nI returned to England, all was over. I was silent on the same principle\nthat you are silent about it in your letter; that it was not the time\nfor speaking; and I only felt, what I hinted at when I wrote last, a\nbitter grief, which prompted me, when the act was irretrievable, to hide\nmyself from you. However, I have spoken, with whatever pain to myself,\nthe first opportunity you have given me.\n\n\"I might appeal to my conscience without fear in proof of the delight it\nwould give me at this time to associate my name with yours, and to stand\nforward as your friend and defender, however humble. I should hope you\nknow me enough to be sure, that, however great my faults are, I have no\nfear of man such as to restrain me, if I could feel I had a call that\nway. But may God help me, as I will ever strive to fulfil my first duty,\nthe defence of His Church, and of the doctrine of the old Fathers, in\nopposition to all the innovations and profanities which are rising round\nus.\n\n\"My dear Lord,\n\n\"Ever yours most sincerely and gratefully,\n\n\"J. H. NEWMAN.\n\n\"P.S. I feel much obliged by your kindness in sending me your Addresses\nto your clergy, which I value highly for your Grace's sake.\"\n\n\n\n\nNOTE ON PAGE 90.\n\nEXTRACT OF A LETTER PROM THE REV. E. SMEDLEY, EDITOR OF THE\n\"ENCYCLOP\u00c6DIA METROPOLITANA.\"\n\nWhen I urged on one occasion an \"understanding\" I had had with the\npublishers of the \"Encyclop\u00e6dia,\" he answered, June 5, 1828, \"I greatly\ndislike the word 'understanding,' which is always _misunderstood_, and\nwhich occasions more mischief than any other in our language, unless it\nbe its cousin-german 'delicacy.'\"\n\n\nNOTE ON PAGE 185.\n\nEXTRACT OF A LETTER OF THE LATE REV. FRANCIS A. FABER, OF SAUNDERTON.\n\nA letter of Mr. F. Faber's to a friend has just now (March, 1878) come\ninto my hands, in which he says, \"I have had a long correspondence with\nNewman on the subject of my uncle's saying he was 'a concealed Roman\nCatholic' long before he left us. It ends in my uncle making an\n_amende_.\"\n\n\nNOTE ON PAGES 194-196.\n\nI have said above, \"Dr. Russell had, perhaps, more to do with my\nconversion than any one else. He called on me in passing through Oxford\nin the summer of 1843; and I think I took him over some of the buildings\nof the University. He called again another summer, on his way from\nDublin to London. I do not recollect that he said a word on the subject\nof religion on either occasion. He sent me at different times several\nletters.... He also gave me one or two books; Veron's Rule of Faith and\nsome Treatises of the Wallenburghs was one; a volume of St. Alfonso\nLiguori's sermons was another.... At a later date Dr. Russell sent me a\nlarge bundle of penny or halfpenny books of devotion,\" &c.\n\nOn this passage I observe first that he told me, on one occasion of my\nseeing him since the publication of the \"Apologia,\" that I was so far in\nerror, that he had called on me at Oxford once only, not twice. He was\nquite positive on the point; it was when he was, I believe, on his way\nto Rome to escape a bishopric.\n\nSecondly, my own mistake has led to some vagueness or inaccuracy in the\nstatements made by others. In a friendly notice of Dr. Russell upon his\ndeath, it is said, in the \"Times\":--\n\n\"Personally he was unknown to the leaders of the movement, but his\nreputation stood high in Oxford. He was often applied to for information\nand suggestion on the points arising in the Tractarian controversy.\nThrough a formal call made by him on Dr. Newman a correspondence arose,\nwhich resulted in the final determination of the latter to join the\nRoman Catholic Church.\"\n\nOn this I remark--(1) that in 1841-5, Dr. Russell was not well known in\nOxford, and it cannot be said that then \"his reputation stood high\"\nthere; (2) that he never was \"applied to for information\" by any one of\nus, as far as my knowledge goes; and (3) that his call on me in 1841(3?)\nwas in no sense \"formal;\" I had not expected it; I think he introduced\nhimself, though he may have had a letter from Dr. Wiseman; and no\n\"correspondence\" arose in consequence. He may perhaps have sent me three\nletters, independent of each other, in five years; and, as far as I\nknow, he was unaware of his part in my conversion, till he saw my notice\nof it in the \"Apologia.\"\n\n\nNOTE ON PAGE 232.\n\nEXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM THE REV. JOHN KEBLE TO THE AUTHOR.\n\n\"Nov. 18, 1844.--I hope I shall not annoy you if I copy out for you part\nof a letter which I had the other day from Judge Coleridge:--\n\n\"'I was struck with part of a letter from A. B., expressing a wish that\nNewman should know how warmly he was loved, honoured, and sympathized\nwith by large numbers of Churchmen, so that he might not feel solitary,\nor, as it were, cast out. What think you of a private address, carefully\nguarded against the appearance of making him the head of a party, but\nonly assuring him of gratitude, veneration, and love?' &c., &c.\n\n\"I thought I would just let you understand how such a person as\nColeridge feels.\"\n\n\nNOTE ON PAGE 237.\n\nEXTRACT FROM THE \"TIMES\" NEWSPAPER ON THE AUTHOR'S VISIT TO OXFORD IN\nFEBRUARY, 1878.\n\n\"The Very Rev. Dr. Newman has this week revisited Oxford for the first\ntime since 1845. He has been staying with the Rev. S. Wayte, President\nof Trinity College, of which society Dr. Newman was formerly a scholar,\nand has recently been elected an Honorary Fellow. On Tuesday evening Dr.\nNewman met a number of old friends at dinner at the President's\nlodgings, and on the following day he paid a long visit to Dr. Pusey at\nChrist Church. He also spent a considerable time at Keble College, in\nwhich he was greatly interested. In the evening Dr. Newman dined in\nTrinity College Hall at the high table, attired in his academical dress,\nand the scholars were invited to meet him afterwards. He returned to\nBirmingham on Thursday morning.\"\n\n\nNOTE ON PAGE 302.\n\nTHE MEDICINAL OIL OF ST. WALBURGA.\n\nI have received the following on the subject of the oil of St. Walburga\nfrom a German friend, the Rev. Corbinian Wandinger, which is a\nserviceable addition to what is said upon it in Note B. He says:--\n\n\"In your 'Apologia,' 2nd Edition, p. 302, you say you neither have, nor\never have had, the means of going into the question of the\nmiraculousness of the oil of St. Walburga. By good chance, there has\narisen a contest not long ago between two papers, a catholic and a\nfree-thinking one, about this very question, from which I collected\nmaterials. Afterwards I asked Professor Suttner, of Eichst\u00e4dt, if the\ndefender of the miraculousness might be fully and in every point\ntrusted, and I was answered he might, since he was nobody else but the\nparson of St. Walburga, Rev. Mr. Brudlacher.\n\n\"You know all the older literature of the oil of St. Walburga, therefore\nI restrict myself to statements of a later date than 1625.\n\n\"First of the attempts to explain the oil as a natural produce of the\nrock.\n\n\"Some thought of ordinary rock-oil. But the slightest experiment proves\nthat origin, properties, and effect of the oil of St. Walburga and\npetroleum have nothing common with each other.\n\n\"Others thought of a salt-rock, and of solution of the salt particles.\nBut the marble slab from which the oil drops is of Jura-chalk, and in\nthe whole Jura is not a single particle of salt to be found, and the\nliquor itself does not in the least savour of salt; besides that, if\nthis were the case, the stone must have crumbled into pieces long since,\nwhilst it is quite massive still.\n\n\"Others thought of humour in the air, or the so-called sweating of the\nstones. But why does the slab which bears the holy relics alone sweat?\nand, why do all others beside, above, beneath it, in and out of the\naltar-cave, though being of the same nature, remain perfectly dry? Why\nshould it sweat, the whole church being so dry that not a single humid\nspot of a hand's breadth is visible? Why does this slab not sweat except\nwithin a certain period, that is from October 12, the anniversary of\ndepositing, to February 25, the day of the death of St. Walburga? And\nwhy does it remain dry at every other time, even at the most humid\ntemperature of the air possible, and in the wettest years, for instance,\n1866? Besides, what other stone, and be it in the deepest cave, will\nsweat during four or five months a quantity of liquor from six to ten\nMass (a Mass = 1\u00b707 French Litres)? If these naturalists are asked all\nthis, then they, too, are at the end of their wits.\n\n\"To this point I add two facts which may be proved beyond any doubt; the\none by unquestionable historical records, the other by still living\neye-witnesses. When under Bishop Friedrich von Parsberg the interdict\nwas inflicted on the city of Eichst\u00e4dt, during all the year 1239 not a\nsingle drop of liquor became visible on the coffin-plate of St.\nWalburga. The contrary fact was stated on June 7, 1835. The cave was\nopened on this day by chance, passengers longing to see it. To their\nastonishment they found the stone so profusely dropping with oil, that\nthe golden vase fixed underneath was full to the brim, whereas at this\nseason never had been observed there any fluid. Some weeks later arrived\nthe long-wished-for royal decree which sanctioned the reopening of the\nconvent of St. Walburga; it was signed on that very 7th of June, 1835,\nby his Majesty King Louis I.\n\n\"Moreover, let one try to gather water which is dropping from sweating\nstone, or glass, or metal, and let him see if it will be pure and\nlimpid, or rather muddy, filthy, and cloudy. The oil of St. Walburga on\nthe contrary, is and remains so limpid and crystal, that a bottle, which\nhad been filled and officially sealed at the reopening of the cave after\nthe Swedish invasion, 1645, preserves to this day the oil so very clear\nand clean as if it had been filled yesterday; an occurrence never to be\nobserved even on the purest spring-water, according to the testimony of\nthe royal circuit-physician (K. Bezirksarzt).\n\n\"To this testimony of a naturalist may be added that of a much higher\nauthority. The renowned naturalist, Von Oken, surely an unquestionable\nexpert, came one day, while he was Professor in the University of\nMunich, to Eichst\u00e4dt on the special purpose to investigate this\nextraordinary phenomenon. The cave was opened to him, he received every\ninformation he wished for, and having seen and examined everything, he\npronounced publicly without any reluctance that he could not explain the\nmatter in a natural way. He took of the liquor to Munich in order to\nsubject it to a chemical analysis, and declared then by writing the\nresult of his researches to be that he could take it neither for natural\nwater, nor oil, and that, in general, he was not able to explain the\nphenomenon as being in accordance with the laws of nature.\n\n\"Let me add the testimony of a historical authority. Mr. Sax, counsellor\nof the government (K. Regierungsrath), in his history of the diocese and\ncity of Eichst\u00e4dt, after he has spoken of the origin, the properties,\nand the effect of the oil of St. Walburga, concludes that 'they are of\nsuch a singular kind, that they not only exceed far the province of\nextraordinary nature-phenomena, but that they, in spite of the constant\ndiscrediting and slandering by bullying free-thinkers, preserved the\ngreat confidence of the catholic people even in far distant countries.'\n\n\"Now of the miracles. There are related by the people many thousands,\nbut, of course, few of them are attested. In the Pastoral paper of\nEichst\u00e4dt, 1857, page 207, I read that Anton Ernest, Bishop of Br\u00fcnn, in\nMoravia, announces, under Nov. 1, 1857, to the Bishop of Eichst\u00e4dt, the\nrecovery of a girl in the establishment of the sisters of charity from\nblindness, and sends, in order to attest the fact, the following\ndocument, which I am to translate literally:--\n\n\"'In the name of the indivisible Trinity. We, Anton Ernest, by God's and\nthe Holy See's grace, Bishop of Br\u00fcnn. After we had received, first by\nthe curate of the establishment of the Daughters of Christian Charity in\nthis place, and then also from other quarters, the notice that a girl in\nthe aforesaid establishment had regained the use of her eyes\nmiraculously in the very moment when she had a vial, containing oil of\nSt. Walburga, offered to her, brought to her mouth and kissed, we\nthought it to be our duty to research scrupulously into the fact, and to\nput it beyond all doubt in the way of a special commission, by hearing\nof witnesses and a trial at the place of the fact, if there be truth,\nand how much of it, in the supposed miraculous healing.\n\n\"'About the report of this commission and the adjoined testimony of the\nphysician, we have then, as prescribes the Holy Council of Trent (Sess.\n25), collected the judgments of our theologians and other pious men; and\nas these all were quite in accordance, and the fact itself with all its\ncircumstances lay before us quite clear and open, we have, after\ninvocation of assistance of the Holy Ghost, pronounced, judged, and\ndecided as follows:--\n\n\"'The instantaneous removal of the most pertinacious eyelid-cramp\n(Augenlied krampf), which Matilda Makara during many months had hindered\nin the use of her eyes and kept in blindness, and the simultaneous\nrecurrence of the full eye-sight, phlogistic appearances still remaining\nin the eyes, which occurred when Matilda Makara on Nov. 7, 1856, had a\nvial with the oil of St. Walburga brought, full of confidence, to her\nmouth and kissed, must be acknowledged to be a fact which, besides the\norder of nature, has been effected by God's grace, and is therefore a\nmiracle.\n\n\"'And that the memory of this Divine favour may be preserved, that to\nGod eternal thanks may be given, the confidence of the faithful may be\nincited and nourished, this devotion to the great wonder-worker St.\nWalburga may be promoted, we order that this aforegoing decision shall\nbe affixed in the chapel of the Daughters of Christian Charity in this\nplace, that it shall be preserved for all times to come, and that the\n7th Nov. shall be celebrated as a holiday every year in this aforesaid\nestablishment.\n\n\"'Given in our Episcopal Residence at Br\u00fcnn,\n\n\"'Nov. 1, 1857,\n\n\"'(L. S.) Anton Ernest, Bishop.'\n\n\"A second record about St. Walburga I find in the Eichst\u00e4dt Pastoral\npaper, 1858, page 192, from which I take the following: 'The Superioress\nof the Convent of St. Walburga had received in summer 1858 the notice of\na miraculous cure written by the Superioress of the Convent of St.\nLeonard-sur-Mer, Sussex. At request for an authenticated report, John\nBamber, chaplain of the Convent of the Holy Infant at St.\nLeonard-sur-Mer, wrote about the following: \"Sister Walburga had been\nill fifteen months, of which five bedridden. The physician pronounced\nthe malady to be incurable. Large exterior tumour, frequent (thrice or\nfour times a day) vomitings were caused by the diseased pylorus. The\nmatter was hopeless, when the Superioress on April 27 thought of using\nthe oil of St. Walburga. The chaplain brought it on the tongue of the\nsick sister, and in the same moment she had a burning feeling which\nseemed to her to descend, and to affect especially the sick part. In a\nfew minutes the inner smart ceased, the tumour fell off, she felt\nrecovered. Next morning she rose, assisted at the holy mass,\ncommunicated, ate with good appetite. She was quite recovered, but\nsomewhat feeble, as people always are after a great disease. The\nphysician, a Protestant, abode by his opinion the malady to be\nincurable, acknowledged, however, the healing. His words were: 'I\nbelieve the healing to be effected by the oil of St. Walburga, but how,\nI don't know.' As a Protestant he refused to give testimony that the\noperation of the oil had been miraculous.'\n\n\"The report is authenticated by Thomas, Bishop of Southwark.\n\n\"Freising, Bayern,\n\n\"September 13, 1873.\"\n\n\n\n\nNOTE ON PAGE 323.\n\nBONIFACE OF CANTERBURY.\n\nWhen I made the above reference in 1865 to Boniface of Canterbury, I was\nsure I had seen among my books some recent authoritative declaration on\nthe subject of his _cultus_ in opposition to the Bollandists; but I did\nnot know where to look for it. I have now found in our Library (Concess.\nOffic. t. 2) what was in my mind. It consists of five documents\nproceeding from the Sacred Congregation of Rites, with the following\ntitle:--\n\n    \"Emo ac Revmo Domino Card. Lambruschini Relatore, Taurinen.\n    Approbationis cult\u00fbs ab immemorabili tempore pr\u00e6stiti B.\n    Bonifacio \u00e0 Subaudi\u00e2 Archiepiscopi Cantuarien. Instante\n    serenissimo Rege Sardini\u00e6 Carolo Alberto. Rom\u00e6, 1838.\"\n\nAlso Dr. Grant, Bishop of Southwark, has kindly supplied me with the\nfollowing extract from the Correspondance de Rome, 24 November, 1851,\nadding \"St. Boniface of Canterbury or of Savoy was beatified\n_\u00e6quipollenter_ by Gregory XVI.:\"--\n\n    \"Le B. Boniface de Savoie, xi de ce nome, petit-fils d'Humbert\n    iii, Archev\u00eaque de Cantorb\u00e9ry. Confirmation de son culte,\n    \u00e9galement \u00e0 la demande du Roi Charles Albert, 7 Sept. 1838.\n    D'abord moine parmi les Chartreux, puis Archev\u00eaque de\n    Cantorb\u00e9ry, consacr\u00e9 par Innocent IV. au Concile G\u00e9n\u00e9ral de\n    Lyons; il occupa le si\u00e9ge 25 ans. Mort en 1270 pendant un voyage\n    en Savoie. Son corps port\u00e9 \u00e0 Haucatacombe; concours des\n    populations; miracles; son corps retrouv\u00e9 intact trois si\u00e8cles\n    apr\u00e8s sa mort. Son nom dans les livres liturgiques. Sa f\u00eate\n    c\u00e9l\u00e9br\u00e9e sans aucune interruption. Sur la relation de Card.\n    Lambruschini, la S. C. des Rites le 1 Sept. 1838, d\u00e9cida qu'il\n    constait de cas exceptionnel aux d\u00e9crets d'Urbain VIII. p. 410.\"","title":"Apologia pro vita sua : $b being a history of his religious opinions","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":140368}